being born a kennedy, and for as long as i can remember, i always assumed that the other kennedys were just cousins who lived out east. when the killing of jfk happened, 50 years ago, i had just turned 6, only 4 days before. i was in first grade and i remember being called in from recess and all of the adults were crying. that was the day i found out that i was not actually a cousin, and that people could die from things other than being very, very old.  it was one of those days when my world changed forever.

jfk and family – the ones who i thought to be my cousins

my kennedy family

The essential self is innocent, and when it tastes its own innocence knows that it lives forever.  – John Updike