43 Years Later

I was too young to remember JFK’s death. But my Mom does, she tells it like this:

“I was nine months pregnant in a little village in Chandalapadu that was so poor, even the dogs begged. Daddy was in Bombay on business. Grandma and Grandpa were taking care of the villagers – as doctor, as pastor. Suddenly we heard the news over the radio, John F. Kennedy was shot and killed. This was a terrible thing, Indians loved this man for some reason, even though he was not their own political figure. The entire village was grieving and into this woe you were born two days later.”

JFK might not have affected my life, but he sure as hell affected my birth.