Everyone has a keystone event in their life. These events are the single most consequential event that one will never forget where they were or what they were doing when they either heard or witnessed them. Keystone events color one’s perception for years.
For me my keystone memory occurred on Friday, November 22, 1963, when John F. Kennedy was assassinated. I was a freshman in college. Since then I have experienced several memorable events that I realize were the keystone event for those around me. In 1986 I was making a sales call at a school when the Challenger explosion occurred. The students were watching on a big tv in the cafeteria. I am sure that for many of these high school students, this was their keystone event. For me it was memorable, but not my keystone event.
Similarly, for another slightly different generation, the 9/11 attack on the World Trade Center was a traumatic keystone event. I remember well where I was that bright September morning. I was in my office in Boston. I had just turned on my computer when the first plane hit. The rest of the day melted away. For most of my colleagues who were 10-20 years my junior, this was perhaps the most significant memorable event in their lives — a keystone.
As I noted above, I was a freshman in college when John F. Kennedy was shot. I can still recall with absolute clarity how that day unfolded. My freshman English composition class met in the basement of the college chapel right after lunch on Fridays. It was a sunny, warm day for November, and my classroom was uncomfortably warm. The professor was not in attendance. A substitute came by at the start of the class and put the assignment on the blackboard. We were to write an in-class essay: an analysis of John Donne’s Meditation XVII.
This profound essay reflects on mortality and the interconnectedness of humanity. The image of the funeral bell tolling and Donne’s words to ask not for whom the bell tolls, for it tolls for thee were very moving for me. Throughout high school the bells for chapel, the beginning and end of the school day and the evening angelus had been comforting routine sounds. The essay invoking the funeral bells spoke to me in many ways. The essay’s reminder of the interconnectedness of humanity and that we should all recognize our mortality was a powerful message.
As I was finishing writing my essay, I could hear a radio voice coming from down the hall in the janitor’s closet. As I dropped off my essay and walked down the hall, I heard the news of the assassination of JFK in Dallas. I was very shaken and felt I needed a moment to gather myself before I went to my next class. It was a short walk across campus, but I chose to walk a slightly longer route across campus. It took me by an athletic field that overlooked the Raritan River where I stood for a few moments reflecting upon Donne’s words and the events in Dallas.
I arrived at my next class just as one of the other students was telling the professor what had just happened. At first the professor thought that the student was mistaken or making up a story. She left to go check on what was going on. Still stunned, I simply took my usual seat and expected the lesson to commence upon her return. Instead, she came back into the classroom with tears streaming down her face and scrawled on the blackboard – class cancelled. I was quite relieved since my own thoughts were quite scrambled. I knew that I needed time to process the events of the day. I left the campus and drove home. I had been looking forward to the weekend since I did not have to go to convent to work. It was one weekend when there was no retreat scheduled. I spent the weekend like many Americans glued to the television filled with sadness and horror. This was for me the most memorable event of my young adult life, my keystone event.
Over My Shoulder 