In the summer of 1960, my mom turned six years old. In the summer of 1960, John Fitzgerald Kennedy was running for the presidency of the United States. And as luck would have it, the two of them crossed paths on the election road.
My grandfather worked for forty years as a union plummer, so it's not hard to believe that he voted for every democrat who held office. When he heard that Senator Kennedy would be speaking in Minnesota he made sure to attend the rally. My mother was too young to know the historical significance of shaking the would-be president's hand but my grandfather would never forget it.
Later that week, my mom was to present something to her class for show and tell and my grandpa could not wait for her to boast about meeting Mr. Kennedy. He helped her choose a fancy dress, he combed her hair neatly and then prepped her for the upcoming presentation.
As my nervous little mom approached the chalkboard for her show and tell debut, stage fright set in. She twirled her hair, looked at her class then looked at her feet. Everything my grandpa practiced with her was lost, so she said the only thing that came to mind, "this week...I got new shoes."
No comments:
Post a Comment