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North Carolina

By Rebecca M.
Grade 10, North Carolina

One day my mother told me about the day that President John F. Kennedy was shot. She was standing in the backyard of her house on a friday, breeze flowing through her hair. Her mother was hanging sheets and clothes on the clothesline to dry. She said that a man who lived down the street was running and yelling at the top of his lungs. He was jumping over fences and running through everyone's backyard. He came and spoke to my grandmother. He told her that President Kennedy had been shot.
My mother told me that my grandmother began to get upset. Kennedy had been riding in the Presidential motorcade with his wife when he was assassinated. It was 12:30pm, central time, in Dallas, Texas. Lee Harvey Oswald was the man who shot him, the date was the twenty-second of November in the year 1963. My grandmother began to cry.
It was hard for my mother to comprehend what was going on, due to the fact that she was such a young girl then. However, she understood the grief her mother felt. It was an event that saddened America, pushed the space program forward, and went down in history forever. I remember my mother told me that the last thing Mrs. Kennedy said to her husband and they drove through the streets of Dallas, crowd cheering, was,



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