This was posted on Facebook by my boss from my days at DOJ. Thought I'd pass it on:
Fifty years ago the nation was captivated by T.V. coverage of the Kennedy assassination and funeral. I was an impoverished law student living in Arlington, Virginia, across Route 50 from the Arlington cemetery, and without a television set. Since I had missed what most of the country had seen on T.V., I decided to watch the final ceremonies in person. I went to the cemetery on foot and walked through the back gate. There was no one there guarding the gate, as I am sure there would be today. I joined hundreds of on-lookers standing on the graves of deceased soldiers to witness the burial. The overwhelming recollection that I have is of an eerie silence; all those people and no one making a sound, not even a cough. Finally I heard the slamming of car doors as the dignitaries arrived, then the military commands, the creaking of the horse drawn caisson, and the neighing of the rider-less horse, but still none of the on-lookers spoke. All of a sudden planes roared overhead, then soldiers executed the twenty-one gun salute, the bugle played taps, people took out their handkerchiefs, but still none of the on-lookers spoke. Even after the ceremonies were over, although you could hear car doors slamming and the rustle of the on-lookers moving as they navigated their way through the headstones, still no one spoke.
~Patrick Mullarkey |
