I often window gaze—look into store front windows, stare into the window of a brightly lit house, or sometimes chance a look into a deserted building. It must be the suspense writer in me seeking fodder for my next plot—not certain.
Each day, on my way home from work, I past this particular place where people are always milling about, pointing and gazing up at a window. Like the postman, come rain, shine, sleet, snow, or blistering heat, they’re there looking, pointing, with their own assumptions.
There’s nothing to look at except mortar and reddish-brown brick, and windows that are all alike. But still, people come from all over the world to look. They point. They speculate. They take pictures of the window. I’ve even looked a few times myself, and yes, as you can see by the picture in this post, I’ve taken a picture of the ordinary window.
Maybe the people who look at the window are looking for a ghost of the man who made the sixth floor window of interest. Or perhaps they think they have the answer to what reallyhappened to make that particular window famous. Old and young alike walk about on the Grassy Knoll or Dealey Plaza, mesmerized as they gesture, take picture, and speculate, yet the mystery of what really took place will never be truly satisfied.
Though commonplace in looks, I would venture to say this one particular window has been photograph more than any other window in the world. The window I write about is the sixth floor Dallas Book Depository Window where it is believed Lee Harvey Oswald stood, took rifle aim, then killed President John F. Kennedy as the motorcade made its way down Elm Street and out of downtown Dallas, November 22, 1963.
People will always stare, point, talk, discuss, rehashed, and theorize the merits of what took place on that infamous day in history. Yet, to this day, no one is for certain how it all went down.
Were you alive when it happened? Do you remember where you were? Or did you learned about the senseless murder by school books or teachers, or perhaps parents or grandparents who were alive during that time?
I’d love to hear where you were or about one thing that sticks out most in your mind. Or if you were born after the President’s death, how did you learn about the assassination?
Was it a one man job or an orchestration of many?
May we never see another day like November 22, 1963, where a world stopped in unity, cried and mourned the loss of our fallen president.
This year will mark the 50th year of President John F. Kennedy’s death, and Dallas is preparing for thousands of people who will do their pilgrimage to Dealey Plaza, the Grassy Knoll, and the Dallas School Book Depository building, to stare, take pictures, and talk about what took place in 1963.
I hope you will go out and do some window gazing soon, but look at windows of beauty, hope, and a future. Don’t look for ghosts past.
Join me next time when I’ll will show you what’s taking place at the Grassy Knoll.
Until next time,
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