The Sunday Memory Drawer - Yes, I Once Went to a Presidential Rally

Hard to believe but I did.   In my adult years, I couldn't be bothered as I believe that all our elections now are ridiculous displays of non-civility and pandering.  Yet, when I was much younger, I had an opportunity to see somebody looking for the big job in the White House and I grabbed it.

This all comes to mind as Netflix is running a four-hour documentary about Robert F. Kennedy's campaign for President in 1968.  Naturally, I gobble up any information on those years when you still had respect for politicians in this nation.   These days, they show up on late night comedy shows.   Back in the day, there was an aura about them.  Regardless of the party affiliation, they all presented a serious demeanor that is not seen with today's current conga line of civic leaders.

So, the Netflix documentary brought me back to Kennedy's campaign and the day it arrived in my hometown of Mount Vernon, New York.  This was a big deal for us.   I remember the news of his stop on the City Hall steps was published in the town newspaper, The Daily Argus, about a week in advance. He'd be there at around 330PM.   As a result, our school teachers told us that, if any of us wanted to attend, we could leave school early.

Okay, that was good enough for me.   I'd go see Donald Duck's Presidential campaign if I could get out of class before 3PM.

Of course, I had to clear my participation with the homestead.   In those days, both my father and mother were working at night.   So, the one I needed to apprise of my afternoon's activities?

Grandma.

Now this would not be a slam dunk as my grandmother had disdain for all things political since the last President she liked was in office.   That would be Dwight Eisenhower.   Everybody else since earned major thumbs down.  And that especially included the Kennedy family.

"Those crazy Catholics."

I reasoned that this might be the only time I would ever see a Presidential candidate reasonably up close and personal.

"Be careful in case somebody shoots him."

At that point, I had no clue how prophetic my grandmother's words would be.

On the day of the campaign stop, I made my way downtown instead of coming home from school.   Those times were much safer.   Little kids were never in danger and could fearlessly walk around their hometown cocoon with abandon.

Of course, I didn't count on the throngs of people down there.  Apparently, people in this town did read the Daily Argus.  I remember being surprised that none of my school chums were there.   Or my pals from the neighborhood.  Indeed, everybody there was much taller than me.  I couldn't see a thing.   

Somewhere in front of me, I heard the unmistakable New England accent of a Kennedy.   The crowd was wildly ecstatic.   But, with my lack of proximity, Robert Kennedy could have been in Ohio for all I knew.   

What I could see did take my breath away.   I could easily stare up at the roofs of City Hall and some of the adjacent buildings.   Up there were things I had never seen before.   

Men with rifles.   Guarding the candidate.   

I don't think I had ever seen somebody with a rifle before.  At least, somebody who wasn't doing battle with the Cartwrights on "Bonanza."   

It was that image that lasted with me.   Not the words of Kennedy or the warm reception he got from the crowd.   Nope, as I walked home, I was consumed by the men with the rifles.

Is this the country we live in?

About six months later, we would get our answer.

Dinner last night:  Turkey chiles relleno.