Death of a President

The tragic death of the Polish President and so many others this week has started me thinking about the past. Today we learn of such events almost as they occur. It was not always so.

When I was a girl, no one I knew had television. Well, yes, there was one girl in my high school class whose family had TV when we were seniors. Once in a great while we would all go over to her house to watch something. But for the most part, it was radio, or movies on the weekend.

I was remembering the day that Franklin Delano Roosevelt died. It must have been a Saturday, or a vacation day. I'm not clear on that. But I know that I was wearing blue jeans and a man's shirt with the sleeves rolled up and tails tied in a knot in front. That could not have been school attire in those days. I had been listening to music on my old 78's all morning. Didn't have the radio on.

Around noon I decided I wanted an Italian hoagie for lunch, and walked down to the hoagie shop. No other customers were there, but the little old Italian lady who owned the shop had a line of sandwiches in front of her on the counter, building them as she stood there, crying - more like wailing. I asked what was wrong of course. Between sobs, she told me, "He's-a gone-a! He's-a gone-a!" I asked who was gone, and she told me, almost screaming it, "F-a - D-a - R-a!"

And that is how I learned of the death of the man who had been President of the United States for my entire life. He was elected the year I was born, and was still President when I turned sixteen.

I remember many other deaths of famous and infamous. We can all tell where we were and what we were doing on such days. But that is the one that will always stand out in my mind.