Waltham – Fifty years ago today the world stopped turning. What happened in our tiny hamlet of Waltham, Massachusetts was repeated in millions of places around the world. Traffic became non-existent. Stores emptied.
For me, in kindergarten at Rosary Academy in Watertown, the mystery revolved around why our teacher, Mrs. O'Neill, started crying and why we had to put down our crayons and say a prayer for President Kennedy. After a lot of praying and Mrs. O'Neill telling us to get our coats on because our mother or father would be coming soon to get us from school, we all knew at the tender age of five that the world around us had suddenly changed. It just felt different.
At home on that Friday afternoon, November 22, 1963 our parents and siblings all gathered around the black and white t.v. we all had in those days and our eyes became glued to it. God help anyone who made a noise too; there was no such thing as rewind or clickers to turn the volume up.
The next day, Saturday, and the day after that, Sunday, and the day after that, Monday, were the same. Everybody it seemed had to be in front of a television or listening to a radio to feel a part of the national mourning that was unfolding before us.
Later on I remember my parents saying that that shared experience reminded them of what happened at around the same time of day on Sunday, December 7, 1941 when they were young teenagers.
And the next time that I felt it was on Tuesday morning, September 11, 2001 as I watched the second plane hit the South Tower live on a tiny little five inch television in the office.
Sometimes the world does change like it did on those days. We're never prepared for it; and that's probably a good thing; otherwise our hearts would be made of stone. It's shocking and it's hard and it's unfair. But what doesn't change is the fact that the fabric of our community can be stretched and torn and scorched . . . but it can never be destroyed.
In the good times and in the not so good times we are lucky to call Waltham home. The people and the place are as good as it gets . . .
Where were you that day?