JOHN F. KENNEDY

This story describes my immediate reaction to an event that shook our country and my thoughts on this matter written years later. 12/29/2016
                                                      JOHN F. KENNEDY

“Kennedy has been shot!” Angie said.

I ran around the office shouting out the dreadful news to my fellow employees. All work stopped. Everyone left for home.

While driving, I listened intently to the radio as sober and solemn voices mournfully provided the latest updates, tears flowing down my face. At home, television news kept Angie and me glued to our seats as the details of the tragedy engulfed us. We could not tear ourselves away from the screen despite the repulsive feelings we experienced.

Johnson took the oath of office amid a sea of controversy and unease. Everyone wondered how the transition would unfold. In the days that followed, the country managed to pull itself together. Jackie’s stoic demeanor during the funeral helped set the mood. She became a stoic and heroic figure.

Kennedy’s death in 1963 came at a time when I found myself at a crossroad, desperately needing to make a career change. That summer, at Angie's urging, I enrolled at Santa Clara University seeking to earn an MBA. It required me to drive some 80 miles round trip two or three nights a week after work.

By the end of summer, the company for whom I had worked more than a dozen years sold its Cooling Tower business to a rival company, leaving me with three options: Remain with my current employer but move to their Livingston, New Jersey headquarters; join the new owner and move to Santa Rosa, California; resign and find a new job.

While stewing over these choices, Angie gave birth to Carol, our fifth child, the first four now 6, 5, 4 and 3 years old respectively. The combination of job stress, school pressure, and child-care made my life hectic and demanding.

What else could worry me? How about the possibility of nuclear warfare with Russia?

At the time, we lived in a subdivision of about 600 houses located in the hills of San Mateo, California. Many of its residents who worked at high-tech Silicon Valley firms felt threatened by Russia and the potential for a nuclear attack. They called a special meeting of the homeowners association to address their fears. After considerable discussion, they formed a committee to explore the feasibility of building a bomb shelter next to the community pool.

Over a period of about six months, the committee conducted studies and made cost estimates. I found the whole idea more laughable than laudable. Who in our neighborhood would survive an atomic blast? A few moms and the swim team, at best. When the homeowners got a whiff of the estimated price tag, the process ended. The fact remains; my neighbors feared them “Ruskies.”

As the year ended, I resigned and started work in Millbrae, California, just a few miles from my previous office location. Despite having to take a small cut in pay, the new job thrilled me as it allowed the family to remain in its comfortable and familiar setting.

Things improved for me in the next few years. I earned an MBA degree from Santa Clara University in the summer of 1966 just a few weeks before my employer planned to move its operation to Trenton, NJ. I resigned and took a job with a small San Francisco engineering firm. Six months later, a Phoenix utility company hired me. Twenty-two years later, I retired at age 62 in 1989 under the provisions of a generous severance package.

In retrospect, 1963 turned out to be a pivotal year in my life, one in which Kennedy’s death now appears as a footnote.

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J.