November 22, 1963
I was 4 and asleep in my cradle. It must haven been between 22:00 and midnight, I cannot be more precise than that.
Suddenly the telephone started ringing. The heavy and black thing made of bakelite produced a harsh sound and it woke me up.
I heard the muffled voices of my parents in the room next to mine, well, my mom mostly, her voice high pitched, with a frightened undertone, on the verge of hysteria. My father trying to calm her down with his stern yet comforting voice.
I remember feeling bad vibes, feeling afraid too. Maybe I started crying and maybe my parents or my mother came to my room to comfort me, which I do not know.
It is mostly the atmosphere of that night that I can still feel, still remember, as if something bad had happened.
My parents did not own a television, my father was against it, saw it as a family breaker but my grandparents had one. It was my grandfather who had heard the news on his black&white tv set and subsequently phoned my parents.
It took me decades before everything fell in its place and I finally figured out what happened that evening.
As far as I know this is my earliest memory.
I am still fascinated by this man, John F. Kennedy and I am convinced he could have made a difference. We will never know.
Kennedy, like most people, fascinates me because of his incredible charisma, the wise things he said and his decisiveness. I liked the way he and his brother Robert worked together.
Yes, I know where I was the day President Kennedy died. I was lying in my cradle, a little and helpless boy. My life was still so very simple and without worries.
Those were the days…