As I glanced at today’s date this morning, it transported me 60 years back to the afternoon of November 22, 1963.

I was in 12th grade, seated about two-thirds of the way back in Miss Allison‘s French class at Central Collegiate in London, Ontario.

Suddenly, the vice principal interrupted the class with an announcement emanating from the big, square, beige intercom on the wall at the front of the room.

“President John F. Kennedy has been shot in Dallas, Texas.”

The class was stunned into silent, wide-eyed shock.

It wasn’t until classes ended an hour later that we learned Kennedy had succumbed to his injuries. I remember walking home up Waterloo Street, kind of dumbfounded.

That dreary November weekend became a vigil, spent watching Walter Cronkite give solemn updates on an old black-and-white console television in my grandparents’ living room.

• Images of L.B. Johnson being sworn in as president in the back of a plane, while Jackie Kennedy, the new widow, wore a pink, blood-spattered suit, looking on.

• The subsequent arrest of Lee Harvey Oswald and watching as he is fatally shot by Jack Ruby on live TV that Sunday morning while he was being transferred from a courthouse to jail.

• The sound of drums throughout the next week in Kennedy’s funeral cortège.
• Little John-John saluting as his father’s coffin passes.

Two things strike me about these flashbacks.

First, it’s amazing how vivid and detailed 60-year-old memories can be, especially as I increasingly find moments when I struggle for a few minutes to remember the name of someone I should know well.

Secondly, it makes me feel old — to have been “present” for a historical event most people now read about in history books. How many of you clearly remember JFK or that fateful November day 60 years ago?

I know I have some high school friends whom I still keep in touch with that will share these memories.

Do you have news events similarly etched indelibly into your long-term memory? What was the first striking news event you recall?

This reminiscence also got me searching for a 1963-64 night school yearbook that I knew I had packed away somewhere.

Here are a couple of photo memories I extracted from the yearbook. The first is a photo of my home room Grade 12-6 class in 1993. Can you find me? Can you find you?

The second is of me rehearsing for the part of Mr Spettigue in the annual school show which was “Girl Crazy” that year. I played the part of a rich old letch … who danced, apparently.

I also found several pages of autographs in the back to the yearbook. Two stood out.

One from a girl i didn’t really know well. It read “Hi John, I hope that you are in my chemistry class again next year so that you can talk all through it.” Some things never change. My chemistry teacher (Art F) also signed the book…on a different page.

Another was from my math teacher who somewhat snarkily wrote ” Hope your mark is where it should be this time.” Always a bit of a curse to be someone with “potential”.