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The sign read simply: Here’s an image I snapped off my TV of our family in the recently aired National Geographic show called “JFK: The Final Hours.” The sign-making and the planning about how we would show the sign at the most opportune moment kept us busy and calmer until we saw the President’s plane fly overhead to land at Love Field.That’s when the crowd that had gathered there began to jockey for better positions.Better probabilty of Real Quality Accounts: Less chance of multiple user accounts, and accounts banned from Facebook get automatically banned here. Ikorodu Man, Who Watches Porn To Console His Quick Ejaculation Problem, Lasts 17 - 25 Minutes With His Wife In Bed, After Using This Natural NAFDAC Approved Solution!

In these two stories I tell of my encounters with President John F. In the Fall of 1963, I was a senior at the Jesuit high school in Dallas. and his wife, Jackie, were coming to Dallas, many, but not all, of the Catholic schools let out for the day in celebration of this visit from the first Catholic President. (“Davy Crockett” was my first fictional hero.) Looking back on the feeling of expectation, I am reminded of the story of Zacchaeus who climbed the sycamore to get a view of Jesus when he was coming to town.During those days, honoring Christ the King in the streets of Dallas was a big deal. Darrouzet, Sr., taking me to one of these full-blown processions that took place across from Holy Trinity Parish, and in front of the old downtown Jesuit High School. So, it wasn’t like we Catholics didn’t take a stand for our faith out into the streets to demonstrate it; it’s that we had never before had a sitting President of the United States, who happened to be the first Catholic President, visit our city.This was an even bigger deal, almost like seeing Christ himself come to town, at least that’s what it felt like to us younger ones, and perhaps to some of the older Catholics, particularly the women among us as well.There were a great number of us standing behind our sign, and we were standing on the curb, so we were able to hold our line as the anticipation built.My brother, Chris, had our Dad’s movie camera and he figured out the best position for him to take movies of it all. Our family was jubilant, my Mom and Aunts simply electrified. He had sacrificed getting a handshake, and in doing so created a treasured film the whole family wants never to forget. And, if the reports are correct of what transpired after that stop, it may well be that it was my brother Bob or, more likely Dan, who was the last person to shake the hand of President Kennedy that day.(See Luke 19.) Our family had grown up in University Park, an enclosed park-city surrounded by Dallas, Texas, and attended Christ the King Catholic Church and elementary school.

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