For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday...
Where were you when on that terrible day? Until ten years ago, during my lifetime at least, that question almost always pertained to the day the shots rang out and killed Kennedy; his presidency the seeming symbol of refreshed and restored hope to a nation that had been bruised, bloodied and battered by two successive World Wars. All those lives lost. All those sons and daughters, fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters. Perished. Some burned alive even. And, then, a chance at rebirth. Until shots rang out from a grassy knoll and killed it.