Where were you on these days?

November 22, 1963

Do you remember where you were when Kennedy was assassinated?  At the time, I was a sixth grader at Joaquin Castro Elementary.  Mr. Pablo Perez, who later got his Ph.D. in Education and became Dr. Pablo Perez, superintendent for McAllen Independent School District in the 90s, was my History teacher.

It was a strange day.

In those days, (that sounds so...old) we walked home for lunch and returned within the hour.  On that day, my dad was crying when I arrived at home.  News of Kennedy's assassination had been televised but I wasn't aware of the news.  That was the first time I saw my Dad cry.  I remember feeling very sad...I didn't understand and I hadn't quite placed what was happening.  It seemed surreal.

I walked back to school for my next class.   I noticed Mr. Perez standing next to this big box.  Everyone was ambling in, the noise of shuffling feet, laughter, talking filled the classroom.  But Mr. Perez was saying nothing.  I approached him and asked him what was wrong.  He didn't respond.  I thought he was writing names due to the noise when I noticed the box was a tape recorder...and it was recording us.

"Are you recording us, Mr. Perez?"  I asked.

Still no answer.

"Guys, guys!  Mr. Perez is recording us....Quiet!...Quiet!"

Zero reaction to my pleas but it wasn't long before the bell rang and Mr. Perez closed the door.  He returned back to the tape recorder.

"Do you know what you sound like when you enter this room?"  he asked.

Well, having it brought to my attention by the taper recorder - we were quite noisy.

He played our entrance for us, and yes, we were noisy especially me trying to quiet everyone down..  At the time it didn't make sense why he had done that.

Minutes later he announced to us that President John F. Kennedy had been assassinated and had died at around 1:00 p.m. in Dallas (He was assassinated at 12:30 p.m. but was not pronounced dead until 1:00 p.m. after Catholic rites had been performed).  Now I understood my father's tears as several classmates began to cry.  He asked us to have a moment of silence. 

You could hear a pin drop.  That silence amidst the prior entrance was like night and day.  I understood why Mr. Perez had recorded us...it was to teach us the loss of our president on that day by showing us the freedom of our voices - alive and loud...and how our president was silenced that day.

At the time, I thought we were being recorded to show us that we needed to reign in our enthusiasm as we entered the classroom.  Instead he showed me the silence of respect versus the silence of apathy.  I am always reminded of that time, that silence every  time a crowd is assembled and a moment of silence is requested.  Times...they're changing, but differently.  It seems the silence of apathy is winning.

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The Challenger

Seems strange things always happen.   This day was January 28, 1986.  I was living in Houston.

Days before so many things kept going wrong with the shuttle crew.  Doors wouldn't close on the shuttle, weather wouldn't cooperate...I just knew they were signs not to take off.  More time was needed to check out the shuttle.  Weren't the shuttle people getting it?  

But finally the day came.  The launch was on.  It was early Saturday morning and my close friend, Martha Morales called me on the phone.

"Are you getting ready to watch the Space Shuttle take off?"  she asked.

"Martha, didn't you see it?  It exploded,"  I exclaimed.  (To this day I don't know where that came from but "I knew" it had happened.)

"Are you ok?...they're getting ready to launch."  she retorted.

"Martha, I saw it explode.  It was taking off and then it just exploded."  I insisted.

"Diana, are you in front of the television?"  she asked.

"Well, no, but...I've had it on all this time."  I answered.

I walked to the television, phone in hand.  The countdown was just beginning.

"Martha, I swear."  I insisted.  "I saw it explode.  Everyone was killed!"

"Watch!"  Martha said.  "They're about to launch..."

Martha stood in front of her television and I on mine listening to the countdown...there was lift off...and within seconds...the shuttle exploded.

"Oh my God!  Oh my God!"  Martha cried.

"Oh my God, Martha!  It just happened!"  I screamed.  "Did you see that?"  This just can't be I thought.  I know I'd saw it before.

"This can't be.  I know I saw it."  I insisted.  "Maybe this wasn't live."

There was no mistaking it.  The shuttle had indeed exploded over Cape Canaveral, Floria and chunks of the shuttle could be seen with huge puffs of smoke as pieces broke apart.

It was heart-breaking.  Christa McAuliffe's name echoed especially loud.

In 1992 we moved back to the Valley and settled in McAllen.  Being transfers, my daughters were too late to test for the gifted and talented program in the MISD district so they began their first year in the Valley at Jackson Elementary.  The following year the two oldest tested and made the GT program.  Adri, my middle child, would be attending Christa McAuliffe Elementary on 29th street.

Life always comes full circle...