I remember I thought the girls on the playground were joking until they told the strict teacher. I remember we got out early. I remember running home, so scared for my country. I remember it was the day of the funeral of my mother's friend, Estelle Steinberg. I remember my mother almost crashing into another car when she threw up her hands when the news came on the car radio. I remember knowing that the other driver figured out later that day what had happened & how my mother was an anonymous part of her story forever after. I remember my mother gasping when Lee Harvey Oswald got shot on national TV. I remember how everyone in the Midwest imitated & enjoyed Kennedy's way of saying "vigah," which probably isn't the way anyone in Massachusetts really says it. I remember not believing places like New England or D.C. were real but not having doubts about Texas.