If you're a youngish someone who thinks, when you hear people speak today about the murder of Kennedy, that we're talking about the passing of the veejay who once toiled in the video vineyards of Music Television, MTV, this probably isn't the place to stop during a break in the battle of today, November 22nd, 2013.
And if you're someone even younger who had always wondered until just now what the "M" in MTV stood for, you must definitely need to move to somewhere else in the ether, mosh skosh my little chickadee, and don't let the mouse click hit you where the good Lord split you.
I'm sharing this quite fine essay on "JFK, Inc.", because as a 61 year-old man, it speaks to everything I have ever felt from the moment I was an earwitness to history, five decades ago.
I can recall a class at Rutgers College as a wee slip of a lad years ago, but years later as well where I attempted to improvise an argument whose premise was, but for the murder of Kennedy, The Beatles might never have succeeded in the USA, only to be most strongly and vociferously directed to attempt a rare if not previously believed physically impossible feat while stifling myself.
Kennedy, like so much else in each of our lives, is and will always be one of those moments, if you were there no words are necessary and if you weren't, no words will suffice.
Maybe it's memory that makes the days that followed his death always seem so grey or maybe it was just the dawning of the age of uncertainty where, when you don't know where you're going, any road will take you there.
Photos fade, but the heart remembers.