Fifty Years Later

 

Everyone remembers where they were on the afternoon of November 22, 1963. But I remember where I was on another date also etched deeply in my memory: January 20, 1961.

The night before and early morning hours of that Friday brought down upon the Mid-Atlantic states  a significant snow storm. The morning radio had already proclaimed the glad tidings of a snow day off from school. But the severe cold weather and snow precluded outdoor activities. We were stuck inside. A captive audience for one of the most brilliantly delivered presidential inaugural addresses of all time. I had never heard such eloquence, such patriotism, such hope; and indeed a stroke of belligerence, warning friend and foe alike “that  the torch had been passed to a new generation of Americans.” And that we would remain a beacon for freedom throughout the world whatever its cost.

I can still see the steaming  clouds of breath emanating from our young president’s mouth, a testament to the bitter weariness of January, as he braved the harsh elements coatless upon the steps of the capitol. He showed a strength and resilience which made me proud to be an American. More importantly his address made me aware what the concomitant responsibilities of an American were: honor and service to country.

To many people today those words sound trite even foolish. But they still resonate with me. People will say it was a different time; a different era.  And it was to be sure. Until our collective naiveté was shattered  in Dallas.

Another president assumed the Oval office with almost the same amount o f promise. He, too, was educated at Harvard and was brilliant. He, too, was going to be transformational. He too was a visionary who would bring us all together. The American family united once again. As I watched this president be sworn in, I had an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was angry at myself for not having voted for  him. I would be reduced somehow, I thought, in the years to come  having to admit the omission. Because on that day he reminded me of John Kennedy.

It soon became apparent, Barak Obama, like Dan Quayle, was no John Kennedy. The wit was wasn’t there. The anecdotes and ad libs were missing as well. His banter with the Washington press corps. seemed stilted and staged. He stumbled badly when his teleprompter mal-functioned. He was thin skinned; not erudite. He was unwilling to work with the opposition or admit mistakes. He assembled an incompetent cabinet, some with tax evasion problems – hardly the best and the brightest. Instead of encouraging self reliance he worships at the altar of big government. The inverse of that wonderful phrase from 50 odd years ago: “Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.”

JFK has evolved from a man to an ideal in the years since his death. But like any man he was subject to the pratfalls of humanity and they have been amply delineated. Yet  they haven’t lessened his enduring message of hope and freedom. Rest in peace, Mr. President.