A Friday Spoiled

It was in November and not cold, I was outside playing in the driveway.  I had on my twin pearl handled toy six shooters, and a red cowboy hat with white lacing.  I was clearing out all the Apaches that had attacked the homestead, and the cavalry would be there soon.  Then my mom called me inside to watch the president's visit to our town.  At that time we had a smallish black and white television, I didn't want to go but this was an argument I knew I couldn't win.  I broke out my toy soldiers as mom ironed and watched TV.  It was past lunchtime, but I would eat once mom got enough of the excited talk about whatever was going on, I had no interest in the program and was about to hang one of my soldiers for desertion when mom started crying.  I went over to her and tugged on her skirt asking what was wrong but she paid me no attention and just kept watching the TV.  Someone had shot the visiting president but that meant nothing to to a five year old, seeing as how she had forgotten about me I went back outside and dealt with the remaining redskins and then hooked up with David down the street, we played some more and got into an argument about who was going to be the Yankee in our game.  Dad came home as dusk was settling in and I had to go back into the house, he was on the phone a lot and mom sat next to him and wiped her eyes with a dishtowel.  My whole day was gone and supper that night was peanut butter sandwiches.   Grown ups ruin everything.

Header art National Cowboy And Western Heritage Museum.

Ted Cassidy was one of the reporters on the scene in Dallas, he covered the crime that day for WFAA, one of the first to conduct live interviews. Seems apropos to mention this.

Oh, yeah. The name of the street I lived on was Warfield Way.