10-01-2013, 01:42 AM
Mr. Johnson's English class was derailed from the normal banter by the voice of Ralph Clevenger former basketball coach now principal.
The aluminum cake pan intercom high on the block wall over the chalk board came alive with his gravelly voice.
"The president has been shot. Stand by for more information."
We were a-buzz, some of us; some were silent with our thoughts. I don't recall saying anything, only staring at the intercom--it never spoke.
"We have just received news the president has died. The buses will be at the entrance to take you home for the weekend."
And so we poured into the corridors, the four thousand of us chattering and clattering with friends and lockers, descending to the curb lined with buses.
Home for the television, staring and watching, the replays of speculation, the first glimpse of 24-hour news filling every moment with meaningless comments.
Finally Sunday and we'd have a look--BANG
In retrospect, and with the aid of the many, many replays, it was Honk, Honk, BANG
The funeral with the riderless horse--it was so nervous
Let us continue, Johnson would lie
No, it was a shadowy instruction that we would not continue
Nothing he did would continue, but we couldn't know that then
Kierkegaard was driving; Bob Dylan saying Don't Look Back
There will be time enough for that
after ten years
When it was time to take out the last of the terra cotta warriors Kabukied up as false sponsors
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The aluminum cake pan intercom high on the block wall over the chalk board came alive with his gravelly voice.
"The president has been shot. Stand by for more information."
We were a-buzz, some of us; some were silent with our thoughts. I don't recall saying anything, only staring at the intercom--it never spoke.
"We have just received news the president has died. The buses will be at the entrance to take you home for the weekend."
And so we poured into the corridors, the four thousand of us chattering and clattering with friends and lockers, descending to the curb lined with buses.
Home for the television, staring and watching, the replays of speculation, the first glimpse of 24-hour news filling every moment with meaningless comments.
Finally Sunday and we'd have a look--BANG
In retrospect, and with the aid of the many, many replays, it was Honk, Honk, BANG
The funeral with the riderless horse--it was so nervous
Let us continue, Johnson would lie
No, it was a shadowy instruction that we would not continue
Nothing he did would continue, but we couldn't know that then
Kierkegaard was driving; Bob Dylan saying Don't Look Back
There will be time enough for that
after ten years
When it was time to take out the last of the terra cotta warriors Kabukied up as false sponsors
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