So many memories are tied into the weekend JFK died and was buried.
Listening to Walter Cronkite almost non-stop.
Watching Lee Harvey Oswald killed almost before your eyes.
Seeing little John-John salute his father.
The urge to write it all down.
Yesterday, after the Turkey Trot, we walked through Dealy Plaza on the opposite side from the Book Repository and then through the Triple underpass. It was such a beautiful plaza, but in the flash of a gunshot became for all time a valley of death.
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