Guest Blogger Jim Buie Asks: Do You Remember What You Were Doing 60 Years ago 11/22/63

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Picture of President Kennedy in the limousine in Dallas, Texas, on Main Street, minutes before the assassination. Also in the presidential limousine are Jackie Kennedy, Texas Governor John Connally, and his wife, Nellie

Do You Remember What You Were Doing 60 Years ago on 11/22/63?

I sure do!  Junior in High School without a care in the world.  The excitement of what lay ahead in the future filled my mind with dreams and expectations.  It was a simpler time—think Father Knows Best or Happy Days.  If there were any angry people, mass killings, war between the political parties, Skinheads, haters, or any other problems like today, I didn’t know about it.  But be aware that I was raised on a farm, and I was sheltered from many of the bad deeds that people do.  I thought everybody loved each other and that our goal was to help one another.  OK, when you stop laughing, just accept the fact that I was naive.

I played on the High School Team and our team was undefeated!  We were ranked number one in eastern North Carolina.  Back then, there was no state champion.  The state was split in half with an East or West Champ.

It was Friday, November 22, 1963.  A beautiful fall day that started out like any other day.  Little did we know what would happen on this day and all we were thinking about was girls and football.

Our team left Stedman, NC on a bus headed to East Carolina.  We were to play against Perquimans High School for the Eastern 2A Football Championship in Ficklen Stadium.  Back then, it was only half completed so we were to play in half of a stadium.  We were undefeated with an 11-0 record.  Perquimans was 8-2 and in many of our minds, we had already won!  As a point of interest, Catfish Hunter was attending Perquimans during this time before he was a famous major league pitcher.  I don’t know if he played on the football team, but I used to tell people that he was there.

After about three hours or so, we arrived at the university around 3:00 pm.  As soon as we got off the bus, the college students were all abuzz with startling news—The President has been shot!  The President has been shot!  At first, we didn’t believe it and we thought because we were gullible high school kids, they were pulling our legs!  They said, no, it’s true—go into the student union.  In the student union was a TV.  Walter Cronkite was on the TV, and we then knew something was up because he was never on until 6 pm.  As we got closer, we could see and hear the college students crying and comforting their friends.  When we could finally hear the TV, Walter was saying, “President Kennedy has been shot—we will let you know his condition as soon as it is passed to us!”  Shortly thereafter, we learned that he was dead.

I don’t know why but I cried.  I felt sadness and fear for our country.  And a heavy feeling of dread washed over me.  President Kennedy was young and handsome.  He spoke like no other president had, pronouncing words like Alabamer instead of Alabama.  I was moved by his “Ask not what you can do for yourself” speech.  He had a beautiful wife and family.  I didn’t know about Marylin Monroe and his other escapades until much later.  In other words, he was a hero to me.  I truly thought that the game would be cancelled!

It wasn’t.  The officials agreed that we should play.  I remember the announcer saying, “Let’s pause for a moment of silence in honor of our slain president.”  I remember thinking, is that it?  Our president is dead and all we can do it give him 60 seconds of silence.  We shouldn’t even be here!  We should be surrounded by our families, glued to the TV, and mourning together!  I didn’t feel like playing the game and the fun was gone.

We played.  Or should I say, we watched!  I am sure the death of our president affected us all, but it didn’t seem to bother the Perquiman’s players because they play like demons!  We forgot about the president during the game, but we just couldn’t get the Rams ramming.  Our team’s name was the Stedman Rams. 

At half time, they were ahead something like 27 – 0.  I really don’t remember the exact score, except that we were stunned. 

Perquimans had twins at the running back positions—Freddy and Frankie Combs.  One of them would go on to NC State and make All-American!  During the second half, I was playing defensive end, and it was my job to keep the runner from getting to the outside.  The play went to the left so I relaxed thinking the left side of the defense would make the tackle.  Suddenly, the running back reversed direction and came back toward me!  I felt like I was running in concrete shoes—he ran by me so fast that it was just a blur.  Another Perquimans touchdown and the coach breathing fire mad at me for not stopping him!  

I remember the coach being angry with the Perquimans coach because they went with their first time all night—the final score was 52 – 0!  We were all dejected and down because of losing plus the feeling of dread from losing our President returned.

I really liked our coach even though he could be a hard ass, and that night after the game he surprised us.  He was competitive, and I know he was hurting inside from the loss like we were.  We were all quiet on the bus feeling like losers when he got on.  We all were expecting an ass-chewing but instead, he said, “Guys, remember we won 11 games to get here!  You are all winners in my book.  Let’s cheer up and celebrate a great season!”  On the way back home, we stopped at a restaurant and had a steak dinner as our celebration. 

We went back to our homes and routines, but things were never the same after that day.  It’s like we had lost our innocence.  President Johnson took office.  We buried President Kennedy and we moved on.  Then came the civil rights movement which was long overdue, the killings of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy, and in my mind, that day changed life for all of us.                    

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December 2, 2023

Freedom From Fear

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One week before Hanukkah, my better half asked me two questions I thought I’d never hear.

“Honey, should I put out the Hanukkah lawn decorations this year? Do you think it’s a good idea? I fear it may lead to problems. Who knows if there are any pro-Palestinians or neo-Nazis living in our town. Almost every evening on the news, I see those bastards holding rallies or marches all across Florida. They’re waving Palestinian or Nazi flags. Flags bearing swastikas. It scares me.”

I looked into her brown eyes and without skipping a beat said:

Honey, just do it!

You know, it’s one of my favorite Hanukkah traditions. For eight nights, I love going outside and watching the dreidel spin and those blue and white lights flicker. I get a warm feeling that says, “I’m proud to be a Jew living in a great nation.”

Not putting the decorations on the lawn sends the wrong message. It’s like saying we’re afraid to be Jews. It’s like we’re trying to conceal our identities. When American college kids hide their yamakas, or their chai’s or the Jewish stars they wear on their chests, the antisemites win. Those kids are showing fear. What’s next they’re afraid to go to the Hillel House or to shul. I recall as a kid, when I lived in fear because some bully threatened to beat me up. He threatened to punch me in my head or in my gut. I hid from him. Fear is a dreadful feeling. The anxiety eats you up. Sixty years later, the bitter after taste of fear still lives in my mouth. You know that bullies love cowards and we ain’t cowards.

And you also know that I’m well prepared. I got my .45 Smith and Wesson police special. Yup, the pistol I take to the gun range. The one I keep next to a bunch of ready-to-shoot bullets in my gun case. I’m ready. If anybody messes with our menorah or dreidel, I’ll put the first shot in the air as a warning. If the haters don’t run and I’m in fear of my life, who knows where the next shot goes? They’ll get the message loud and clear. We Jews aren’t taking any of their antisemitic shit.

“Honey, you’ve been putting our four-foot high, blue and white electric menorah and our three-foot high, motorized yellow and green spinning dreidel on our lawn for over 40 years. It’s our tradition. The kids and I cherish that tradition. It’s part of our wonderful life. We can’t let fear take that away from us. Hatred can’t hold us hostage. Fear, like cancer, eats the joy out of life. That’s why Israel has to wipe out Hamas. They don’t want their children to live in fear.

Honey, just do it.

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December 1, 2023

Of Blood and Flatulence

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Donald laid in the middle of his bed, shaking, scratching and farting. As he shook, he heard the bed frame creak. As the bedframe creaked, his comforter—the one embossed with the presidential seal, the number 45 and rust-colored stains—partially fell to the floor. As the comforter hit the floor, Donald expelled a loud fart.

And as his feculent odor filled the room, Donald inhaled, smiled and thought, “I’m alive. I survived another night. I’m  alive to fight my battles for another day.”

But before fighting, he stretched his legs, rubbed his swollen ankles and warmed his cold feet with his hands. Donald’s calloused fingers massaged his crooked arthritic toes.

During the night, Donald’s Bronx Colors Urban Cosmetics makeup irritated his skin causing a facial rash. A red, bumpy, scaly rash that begged to be scratched. So Donald obliged. With his manicured fingernails, he scratched his face until it bled.

Those flesh colored, white tipped nails tore gashes into his skin. And the gashes bled on to his comforter. And when the red and the orange colors mixed, they turned into vermilion blotches.

He hated those blotches. They made him rant like an insane asylum lunatic.

“Damn it, I’m f’ing 77 years old, the skin on my arms, face and hands is crepey, like tissue paper.

G-d old age sucks. I hate it.

I hate my skin. I hate my fat belly. I hate my orange paint. I hate my life.

I hate my lawyers, my persecutors and the judges assigned to my cases.

I hate playing a victim. It makes me feel like such a loser. But I know that victims are easy to love. And when I get reelected, I’ll go on the attack. I’ll teach those bastards a lesson, they won’t forget.”

Donald rolled to the other side of the bed. Now he saw how cluttered his life was. A life jumbled with minutia—pills, aches, pains, cramps and constipation.

He thought, “My bedroom was once loaded with broads, beautiful broads, like models and movie stars and now they were replaced with doctors. My sex life resides only in my head, not in this bed.”

Donald lowered the voice in his head, “I’m not going to allow old age to bring me down. Fuck old age.”

“I only fear three things—death, prison and falling off of my bed in the middle of the night.”

The word “prison” triggered  his nightly nightmare. He called it his Ryker’s Island nightmare.

The slamming of  jail cell doors pierced his eardrums. The smells of sewerage and flatulence made him vomit into a steel seatless toilet bowl. As he wiped the puke off of his chin, he heard his 250 pound, eye-patch wearing cellmate, jump off the top bunk.

“You orange-hued orangutan, your farts and stinking up my cell. So I’m gonna stick my shiv deep into your fat belly. From now on, your smelly gases will shoot out of the hole in your stomach and not your ass.”

Donald’s hands quickly covered his stomach. He felt warm pee running down the legs of his orange jumpsuit.

The wetness caused Donald to open his eyes. He found himself lying in the middle of his bed, shaking and partially covered by his presidential comforter.

————————————————————————

Descriptive as all hell. Wow.—Tracy

Foul Play! And to think that instead of prison, The Orange Monster has a chance at being re-elected to the Presidency of the United States. What’s happening to our country, Mort?—David

As always I enjoy reading your stories.—Marianne

Thumbs up.—Ginger

Thumbs up.—Jason

Thumbs up.—Marilyn

Thumbs up.—Frank

Thumbs up.—Joan

Perry, Thanks for sharing.—Mort

Thumbs up.—Laurie

Thumbs up.—David

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Thumbs up.—Allan

Thumbs up.—Rebecca

Thumbs up.—Tuoi

Thumbs up.—Mary

Thumbs up.—Mark

Thumbs up.—Neil

Thumbs up.—Susan

Mort—Once again you have brought some joy to the world when it sorely needs it.—Richie

Thumbs up.—Brian

Thumbs up.—Jewels

Thumbs up.—Gail

Thumbs up.—Max

Thumbs up.—Jeffery

Thumbs up.—Bella

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29. Nice.—Joel

Thumbs up.—Fah Kyoo

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Thumbs up.—Joan

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Thumbs up.—Jay

Very funny.—Pablo

40. Thumbs up.—Joanne

41. Thumbs up.—John

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November 25, 2023