My first memory is of November 22, 1963 when JFK got shot. I was only 4, so I didn't know who he was, but I remember the shock and sadness on my dad's face that day. That was the first and only time I ever saw him that way.
I distinctly remember thinking, I've got to get out here soon. It's the middle of the night and a snow storm is raging. I here the muffled voice of my father saying,"Now dear, hold on until morning and the snow lets up. It's probably just indigestion and the baby isn't due for another two weeks.'