Friday, November 22, 1963.

“Amarcord”. Afternoon. An elementary school classroom in Cincinnati, Ohio. Mr. Terwilliger’s class. In the middle a very odd loud speaker announcement from Ms. Patrick, the principal. School over early. A bright girl named Patty–who cried about everything, and with whom I attended college many years later–cried. But nothing else happened. Children seem to know not to make light of sacred or too real things beyond their ken. Up the stairs to get your coat and hat from homeroom. Down the stairs and outside to the buses on an overcast medium cold day. Everything was different for a long, long time.