When I was a young boy I had a small group of very close buddies. We played together. We played sports like baseball and football. We fought now and again. And we play-fought all the time. We played pirates. We played Cowboys and Indians. We played army games. Bang, bang…you’re dead.

One Friday afternoon, when I was in Grade 3, our teacher told us the President of the United States had been shot and killed.

I remember walking home with my buddies. Laughing and playing…bang, bang…you’re dead.

When I got home, I headed for the refrigerator and I found my Mom in the kitchen…crying like I had never seen before. I remember that afternoon like it was yesterday. I remember my Mom sobbing, unable to talk clearly. I panicked, not understanding what was wrong.  When she could talk she explained she was heartbroken over the death of John Fitzgerald Kennedy, the President of the United States.

I remember exactly how I felt that afternoon, including the joy I had playing with my friends, the panic about my Mom, and the guilt over my ignorance.

Later, I understood why my Mom and all my friends’ Moms cried that day.

That was the day the Vision known as ‘Camelot’ died.

The death of that Vision shook my world and took a big piece of my childish innocence.