Flashbulb

When I was teaching psychology, I used to talk about the phenomenon known as "flashbulb memory." A flashbulb memory is a very detailed memory, a snapshot if you will, of a specific incident. Flashbulb memories purportedly are frequently formed of what a person is doing when s/he hears the news of some dramatic event, for example, what you were doing when the Challenger blew up, or when the first Gulf War started. or for my generation, what you were doing when you heard that JFK had been assassinated. These memories were supposedly very detailed and very accurate, but last time I looked at the literature, evidence didn't back up these claims--longitudinal studies indicated that they are often quite inaccurate.

Of course, what made me think of this today is my own "flashbulb memory" of what I was doing 43 years ago (omg does that make me feel old; many/most of the bloggers I read weren't even born then!) today when John F. Kennedy was killed. I do have a very vivid memory of that day, even though I realize what I recall may not be what actually happened.

I was in the fifth grade, which in retrospect was one of my favorite years of school. All three of the fifth grade classes were gathered in the auditorium to begin practicing Christmas carols--yes, we sang them in school, and we were practicing to sing at a nursing home, It was a chilly, gray day, much like today is. One of the sixth grade teachers came to the door and called my teacher out. When my teacher came back in the room she had a funny look on her face, and she said that she needed to make an announcement; the president had been shot. We were stunned and returned to our classrooms where my teacher turned on the radio and we listened in silence as the news reports confirmed that yes, JFK had been shot, and then that yes, he had died. Unbelievable.

When I got home my mother was visibly upset. She had heard the news in the grocery store and had hurried home to turn on the TV. It felt like the world was standing still.

But, it was also the day of my best friend's birthday party. And so a gaggle of tween girls trooped off to the movies and then back to her house for pizza--the first pizza I had ever eaten, as unbelievable as that may seem in this day and age. When our parents came to pick us up, the normality of the party shifted; there was distinct pall cast over us as our parents discussed the day's happenings.

JFK's assassination was the first of three that marked my coming of age years. MLK's and RFK's were more traumatic for me, but I will always remember the deep sadness that engulfed all of us that week as we mourned the president's death. As young as I was, I can remember a feeling of optimism about the future that began to evaporate when JFK died, and that continued to seep away over the next years. I know that growing up in those years marked me in some way that I can't completely define.

Didn't you love the things that they stood for?
Didn't they try to find some good for you and me?
And we'll be free
Some day soon, it's gonna be one day