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            <title>WHERE WERE YOU....PRES. KENNEDY&#039;S ASSASSINATION - PS 164 Alumni</title>
            <link rel="self" href="http://www.ps164alumni.net/forum/topics/1978143:Topic:18626?commentId=1978143%3AComment%3A22394&amp;feed=yes&amp;xn_auth=no"/>
            <updated>2016-12-03T04:40:38Z</updated>
                        <id>http://www.ps164alumni.net/forum/topics/1978143:Topic:18626?commentId=1978143%3AComment%3A22394&amp;feed=yes&amp;xn_auth=no</id>
                            <entry>
                    <title>I was a senior in High School…</title>
                    <link rel="alternate" href="http://www.ps164alumni.net/xn/detail/1978143:Comment:23610"/>
                                        <id>tag:www.ps164alumni.net,2009-02-22:1978143:Comment:23610</id>
                                        <updated>2009-02-22T00:10:05.716Z</updated>
                    
                                            <author>
                            <name>Bonnie Kaufman Rothschild</name>
                            <uri>http://www.ps164alumni.net/profile/BonnieKaufmanRothschild</uri>
                        </author>
                    
                    <summary type="html">
                        I was a senior in High School, Francis Lewis (I moved after public school). It was a Friday . I came home and found my mother weeping in the kitchen. Then Walter Kronkite, in tears, saying he was gone.&lt;br /&gt;
Many years later, 1998, my dad died on November 22. I remember thinking through my own pain, how lucky I was that my father had lived to know my daughter. JFK never even got to see his children grow up.                    </summary>

                                            <content type="html">
                            I was a senior in High School, Francis Lewis (I moved after public school). It was a Friday . I came home and found my mother weeping in the kitchen. Then Walter Kronkite, in tears, saying he was gone.&lt;br /&gt;
Many years later, 1998, my dad died on November 22. I remember thinking through my own pain, how lucky I was that my father had lived to know my daughter. JFK never even got to see his children grow up.                        </content>
                    
                                    </entry>
                            <entry>
                    <title>I was standing at the corner…</title>
                    <link rel="alternate" href="http://www.ps164alumni.net/xn/detail/1978143:Comment:23560"/>
                                        <id>tag:www.ps164alumni.net,2009-02-21:1978143:Comment:23560</id>
                                        <updated>2009-02-21T02:33:39.402Z</updated>
                    
                                            <author>
                            <name>ginger &quot;debra labensky&quot; bonner</name>
                            <uri>http://www.ps164alumni.net/profile/gingerdebralabenskybonner</uri>
                        </author>
                    
                    <summary type="html">
                        I was standing at the corner of vleigh place on my way to or from lunch and a lady came running out of the drug store screaming that the president was shot. I dont think I knew what a president was but I ever forgot how people started running and screaming                    </summary>

                                            <content type="html">
                            I was standing at the corner of vleigh place on my way to or from lunch and a lady came running out of the drug store screaming that the president was shot. I dont think I knew what a president was but I ever forgot how people started running and screaming                        </content>
                    
                                    </entry>
                            <entry>
                    <title>I remember sitting in the aud…</title>
                    <link rel="alternate" href="http://www.ps164alumni.net/xn/detail/1978143:Comment:22483"/>
                                        <id>tag:www.ps164alumni.net,2009-01-16:1978143:Comment:22483</id>
                                        <updated>2009-01-16T18:05:52.214Z</updated>
                    
                                            <author>
                            <name>Jay Singer</name>
                            <uri>http://www.ps164alumni.net/profile/JaySinger</uri>
                        </author>
                    
                    <summary type="html">
                        I remember sitting in the auditorium when my classmate, Beth Weinstein came into the room crying with the news. We sat there silently and I remember my father came to pick me up. We were glued to the tv the next days; I remember the shock of seeing Lee Harvey Oswald shot by Jack Ruby, too...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(How would American history have been different if the Kennedy&#039;s and MLK not been assassinated? What a tragedy we&#039;ve endured.)                    </summary>

                                            <content type="html">
                            I remember sitting in the auditorium when my classmate, Beth Weinstein came into the room crying with the news. We sat there silently and I remember my father came to pick me up. We were glued to the tv the next days; I remember the shock of seeing Lee Harvey Oswald shot by Jack Ruby, too...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(How would American history have been different if the Kennedy&#039;s and MLK not been assassinated? What a tragedy we&#039;ve endured.)                        </content>
                    
                                    </entry>
                            <entry>
                    <title>In Mrs Blume&#039;s)Bloom?) 3rd gr…</title>
                    <link rel="alternate" href="http://www.ps164alumni.net/xn/detail/1978143:Comment:22394"/>
                                        <id>tag:www.ps164alumni.net,2009-01-14:1978143:Comment:22394</id>
                                        <updated>2009-01-14T12:37:43.632Z</updated>
                    
                                            <author>
                            <name>Alan Shapiro</name>
                            <uri>http://www.ps164alumni.net/profile/AlanShapiro</uri>
                        </author>
                    
                    <summary type="html">
                        In Mrs Blume&#039;s)Bloom?) 3rd grade class. I remember the assistant building super, I cant remember her name, came in and whispered something to Mrs Blume. She got quiet, so of course the class started talking among themselves. I remeber her bing very angry as she told us to &quot;Shut up, I&#039;m praying&quot;. Then she told us that President Kennedy has been shot.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I remember having to wait for the school bus in the auditorium, and all the rumors were flying.                    </summary>

                                            <content type="html">
                            In Mrs Blume&#039;s)Bloom?) 3rd grade class. I remember the assistant building super, I cant remember her name, came in and whispered something to Mrs Blume. She got quiet, so of course the class started talking among themselves. I remeber her bing very angry as she told us to &quot;Shut up, I&#039;m praying&quot;. Then she told us that President Kennedy has been shot.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I remember having to wait for the school bus in the auditorium, and all the rumors were flying.                        </content>
                    
                                    </entry>
                            <entry>
                    <title>I was in Mrs. Hoffman&#039;s 5th g…</title>
                    <link rel="alternate" href="http://www.ps164alumni.net/xn/detail/1978143:Comment:19422"/>
                                        <id>tag:www.ps164alumni.net,2008-09-10:1978143:Comment:19422</id>
                                        <updated>2008-09-10T03:12:13.036Z</updated>
                    
                                            <author>
                            <name>Diane Stillman</name>
                            <uri>http://www.ps164alumni.net/profile/DianeStillman</uri>
                        </author>
                    
                    <summary type="html">
                        I was in Mrs. Hoffman&#039;s 5th grade class, but I was at home, sick -- I missed a lot of school that year, susceptible to any upper respiratory bug that went around. So I was upstairs in my bedroom, but I could hear my mother&#039;s step on the linoleum kitchen and hallway floors. Her footsteps sounded abnormal, quicker than usual, agitated. Without really conceptualizing why, I called downstairs, &quot;Ma, what&#039;s the matter?&quot; And she said, &quot;The president&#039;s been shot.&quot; For days afterward I fantasized that…                    </summary>

                                            <content type="html">
                            I was in Mrs. Hoffman&#039;s 5th grade class, but I was at home, sick -- I missed a lot of school that year, susceptible to any upper respiratory bug that went around. So I was upstairs in my bedroom, but I could hear my mother&#039;s step on the linoleum kitchen and hallway floors. Her footsteps sounded abnormal, quicker than usual, agitated. Without really conceptualizing why, I called downstairs, &quot;Ma, what&#039;s the matter?&quot; And she said, &quot;The president&#039;s been shot.&quot; For days afterward I fantasized that President Kennedy was merely wounded, and being secretly nursed back to health. It didn&#039;t seem possible to me at the time that the American people -- and this golden First Family -- could have suffered such a loss. But I first learned what had happened because my mother&#039;s footstep sounded different than usual.                        </content>
                    
                                    </entry>
                            <entry>
                    <title>In Mrs. Hoffman&#039;s 5th grade c…</title>
                    <link rel="alternate" href="http://www.ps164alumni.net/xn/detail/1978143:Comment:18998"/>
                                        <id>tag:www.ps164alumni.net,2008-08-16:1978143:Comment:18998</id>
                                        <updated>2008-08-16T13:34:36.969Z</updated>
                    
                                            <author>
                            <name>Stewart Koenig</name>
                            <uri>http://www.ps164alumni.net/profile/StewartKoenig</uri>
                        </author>
                    
                    <summary type="html">
                        In Mrs. Hoffman&#039;s 5th grade class. She cried and I have a memory of a TV being put on. After school I went to the park and the group of us played RingA Leevio (sp?). My brother yelled at me when I got home. He said, how can you be out playing when the world is crashng down around us. My dad was distraught. He and JFK were the same age and had received a similar medal in the army.                    </summary>

                                            <content type="html">
                            In Mrs. Hoffman&#039;s 5th grade class. She cried and I have a memory of a TV being put on. After school I went to the park and the group of us played RingA Leevio (sp?). My brother yelled at me when I got home. He said, how can you be out playing when the world is crashng down around us. My dad was distraught. He and JFK were the same age and had received a similar medal in the army.                        </content>
                    
                                    </entry>
                            <entry>
                    <title>I was in eighth grade (in Par…</title>
                    <link rel="alternate" href="http://www.ps164alumni.net/xn/detail/1978143:Comment:18969"/>
                                        <id>tag:www.ps164alumni.net,2008-08-14:1978143:Comment:18969</id>
                                        <updated>2008-08-14T02:17:19.964Z</updated>
                    
                                            <author>
                            <name>Arlene Gelman Maimin</name>
                            <uri>http://www.ps164alumni.net/profile/ArleneGelmanMaimin</uri>
                        </author>
                    
                    <summary type="html">
                        I was in eighth grade (in Parsons Junior High) when our Social Studies teacher, Mr. McVey was called to the classroom door by an assistant principal. They spoke in hushed tones for a few minutes and when Mr. McVey turned back to the class, his face looked ashen, as if all the blood had drained out of him. He told us that the president had been shot. Then the class was dismissed. I walked home and burst into tears as soon as I went through the front door. We watched the news reporting on the TV…                    </summary>

                                            <content type="html">
                            I was in eighth grade (in Parsons Junior High) when our Social Studies teacher, Mr. McVey was called to the classroom door by an assistant principal. They spoke in hushed tones for a few minutes and when Mr. McVey turned back to the class, his face looked ashen, as if all the blood had drained out of him. He told us that the president had been shot. Then the class was dismissed. I walked home and burst into tears as soon as I went through the front door. We watched the news reporting on the TV constantly over the next weeks. During the next month whenever my Mom and I took the bus, I remember seeing many American flags displayed, all at half mast. I remember that the skies were drab and gray for much of that month; it was as though the whole world was sad.                        </content>
                    
                                    </entry>
                            <entry>
                    <title>it was afternoon in 5th grade…</title>
                    <link rel="alternate" href="http://www.ps164alumni.net/xn/detail/1978143:Comment:18729"/>
                                        <id>tag:www.ps164alumni.net,2008-08-05:1978143:Comment:18729</id>
                                        <updated>2008-08-05T12:08:34.597Z</updated>
                    
                                            <author>
                            <name>Peter Monroe</name>
                            <uri>http://www.ps164alumni.net/profile/PeterMonroe</uri>
                        </author>
                    
                    <summary type="html">
                        it was afternoon in 5th grade and some activity in the hall. mitchell fielder, who was in another class was running around spreading the news. people didn&#039;t believe him. a television was wheeled into one of the classrooms and the news was confirmed. walking home as usual with my best friend Barry Wertheim i was surprised to see he wasw crying. the next day shopping with my mother in Jamaica, there was a palpable depressed mood on the street.                    </summary>

                                            <content type="html">
                            it was afternoon in 5th grade and some activity in the hall. mitchell fielder, who was in another class was running around spreading the news. people didn&#039;t believe him. a television was wheeled into one of the classrooms and the news was confirmed. walking home as usual with my best friend Barry Wertheim i was surprised to see he wasw crying. the next day shopping with my mother in Jamaica, there was a palpable depressed mood on the street.                        </content>
                    
                                    </entry>
                            <entry>
                    <title>I was back in Japan when Pres…</title>
                    <link rel="alternate" href="http://www.ps164alumni.net/xn/detail/1978143:Comment:18639"/>
                                        <id>tag:www.ps164alumni.net,2008-07-31:1978143:Comment:18639</id>
                                        <updated>2008-07-31T06:31:50.197Z</updated>
                    
                                            <author>
                            <name>Yumiko Hoshi</name>
                            <uri>http://www.ps164alumni.net/profile/YumikoHoshi</uri>
                        </author>
                    
                    <summary type="html">
                        I was back in Japan when Pres. Kennedy was assassinated. Back then, news did not travel that fast...we were a day or two behind. If I remember correctly, my father came home from work on Saturday (yes, in Japan, there was half a day of school and work) and told us the news. He came into the backyard via the side gate and called out to us all. I was upstairs in my room, so I stuck my head out to see what it was about and he told us that the President had been shot and died. We were in NY when he…                    </summary>

                                            <content type="html">
                            I was back in Japan when Pres. Kennedy was assassinated. Back then, news did not travel that fast...we were a day or two behind. If I remember correctly, my father came home from work on Saturday (yes, in Japan, there was half a day of school and work) and told us the news. He came into the backyard via the side gate and called out to us all. I was upstairs in my room, so I stuck my head out to see what it was about and he told us that the President had been shot and died. We were in NY when he was elected President and everything was about the Kennedys then. I even named my doll after Caroline. It was a very sad day.                        </content>
                    
                                    </entry>
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