It was 12:45 on a Friday afternoon as Mary sat in Saint Augistine church surrounded by all her classmates from Minter Elementary School. Her stomach was in a knot and her palms were so sweaty she could hardly hold her prayer beads. Unlike a normal mass or service, not a single child misbehaved. Everyone, including Mary, knelt in front of the pew and prayed. Over the loud sobs of the nuns, the packed Church prayed the rosary aloud as they hoped and prayed for good news. Ten minutes after the prayer session began, faint pitter patter of shoes could be heard coming from the back of the church. A woman was jogging towards the front of the church. She ran down the aisle of the church with handkerchief in her hand, running to Sister Alicia, and leaning in to whisper news into her ear. Sister Alicia, the head nun and principal, looked around the Church at the sea of students.
In a shaky and broken voice she announced “President Kennedy has been pronounced dead. Everybody must take their belonging as return home. The school buses are waiting outside and you will be taken directly home. Quickly! Gather your belongings.”
Mary was overcome by fear. Why would anyone want to kill the president? Why would anyone want to hurt America? Many unanswered question ran through her mind. It had seemed like such a normal Friday morning.
Friday November, 22, 1963 Mary Feldman woke up around 7 a.m. for school. She shuffled to the bathroom with heavy eyes, washed her face and brushed her teeth catching a slight glimpse of the overcast weather the hung in the sky outside. She walked back to her bedroom and picked out a jumper and stockings to wear to school. At Minster Elementary school girls were not allowed to wear pants or shorts regardless to the freezing winter conditions. After she combed her hair she hopped down the stairs to the kitchen and packed breakfast for school. Everyone in Minster Elementary had to attend 8:30 Mass and it was frowned upon by the Church if you ate before communion. So like every morning, Mary packed her favorite breakfast, a bacon sandwich. As she placed the sandwich in her backpack her tummy began to grumble. She ignored it and hustled to the front door to meet her brother and sister before catching the bus.
Growing up in the town of Minster, Ohio, being a Catholic was not just a religion, it was a lifestyle. With a town population under 700, every member of the small town belonged to the same church, St. Augistine. And on January 20, 1961 when President John F. Kennedy was sworn in as the 35th president, the town of Minster, Ohio couldn’t have been happier. Kennedy was the first Catholic president the United States had ever elected. He was young, voted into office at the age of 43, and seemed like your everyday man.
Mary hopped off the school bus and said goodbye to Mr.Wieging, the bus driver who smoked a wooden pipe every morning on the 30 minute bus ride to school. She walked through the front doors of the school and down the tan halls to her classroom. Heat poured out of the classrooms as she walked by. As she entered her room, she greeted her classmates and shoved her brown leather book bag and winter coat in her cubby and took her seat. She had prime real estate in the 3rd grade classroom, second desk from the door in the second row, located just close enough to grab good place in line on the way to the cafeteria and church. She had a great view of the chalk board and the bulletin board above it which usually had an arrangement of seasonal decorations. In the center of the bulletin board were two framed photos, one of Jesus Christ and to his right President Kennedy.
The day proceeded as normal, the class filed out of the room following their teacher, Sister Generosa, down the hallway to morning mass. Sister Generosa was a manly woman. She stood about 6 feet 2 inches with a slight mustache and wire rim classes. Mary guessed she was about 45 years old but it was almost impossible to know for sure. Every day she wore a grey skirt that hit mid shin, a white collared shirt, tucked in with a grey wool cape overtop with her habit covering all of her hair. She had a large silver cross, about four inches long, which hung from her neck and swung like a pendulum. Mary noticed when sister Generosa became nervous or overwhelmed she rubbed the cross like a lucky rabbit’s foot; sometimes even giving it a slight kiss. The class sat through morning Mass and went about the day as if it were no different than the rest.
While Mary finished her peanut butter and jelly sandwich around 12:45, an announcement came over the PA system. The wooden speaker located above the door of the classroom crackled a bit before the voice of the principle Alicia (better known to the students as Big Al) came over the loud speaker.
In a broken and shaken voice, Sister Alicia began to speak, “There has been an announcement th- th- that at 12:30 this afternoon, our President, President Kennedy was shot in Dallas, Texas and is bein-ng rushed to the hospital. Sis-sisters, please escort all students to the Church for an afternoon of prayer.” Mary looked up to see her manly, brawny and normally stern teacher begin to sob. The faint sobs turned louder and soon enough her teacher was inconsolable. Sister Generosa turned to the cork board and, gazing at the photograph of the president, she grabbed the cross around her neck and began to rub it. She pray the “Our Father” out loud.
She pulled a large dinner napkin size handkerchief from her cape and began to sob into it, blowing her nose and honking. She quickly turned around and ordered the class to gather their things and line up in front of the door.
At this point Mary was numb. She got up from her desk and walked into the coat room. From inside she could still hear Sister Generosa sobs and honks. She looked around the classroom to see how others were reacting. Confusion and panic began to build in and the children. They hustled to the door of the classroom. Buttoned up in coats and hats, the 3rd grade class walked down the hall towards the front entrance of the school, passing classrooms where other students were also rushing to gather their belongings.
Sister Generosa, still sobbing, held open the door for her class. They brusquely walked across the playground and into the back entrance of the church. The smell of old incense filled the air. The church was about half full; more classes still hadn’t arrived. Sister Generosa’s class filtered into two pews as they had done hours earlier she told them to kneel and pray.
Mary’s was filled with questions. Why anyone would want to shoot the president?
He was Catholic, handsome, young, and had a family. It was absurd for anyone to harm him. In fact, the only person Mary had ever known to be intentionally shot was Abraham Lincoln and that was in 1865. The faint sound of puttering feet filled the echoing heights of the church. Mary prayed on her homemade rosary beads, her mind wondered. Would there be a war? Would her parents cry? Would others die just like President Kennedy? The puttering feet grew closer and closer.
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