Small Town Grieves President Kennedy

By Lily Whitten

Small Town Grieves President Kennedy

Elaine Enochs lived a simple life in many ways. She grew up in Lincoln, Maine, population 4,541 and she enjoyed the benefits of a small, safe town. She enjoyed going to the bowling alley and the movie theater. She liked going to the roller-skating rink on the weekends. She rode her bike around the small town, waving to others. She would walk around Lincoln alone. She would ride in her mother’s Pontiac without a seatbelt. The town was safe but even Lincoln could not escape a national tragedy. 

Elaine lived in a large white farmhouse, a comfortable home for her large family of six. Her father was a classic family man. He provided for his family even when it meant traveling for weeks at a time then returning on the weekends occasionally. He was a professional salesman, selling vacuum cleaners. Elaine remembers always seeing him in a suit. Her mother had brown curly hair. She was a housewife. She always wore cat-eye glasses with bright red lipstick. She could be identified by the sound of her high heels.

Elaine was the middle child. She was overshadowed by her older brother, Robert. He was seventeen at the time and a reckless teenager. He enjoyed going to parties frequently and had a habit of staying out late and sneaking back into the house as the sun came up. He was well-liked and popular, but he was not around the family much. Elaine’s two younger sisters required the most attention from her mother. Mary Jane was seven and the youngest Joann was five. Elaine kept to herself most of the time.

November 22, 1963 started as a normal day for Elaine. She rode the bus to Ella P. Burr Elementary school. She was wearing a home-made floral dress and sat quietly with her legs crossed at her desk. Her permed brown hair hung off her face, some curls hugged her chin. Her mother was a hairdresser and never let her leave the house with unstyled hair. Each night for as long as she could remember, she slept with curlers in her hair. At age twelve, she had permed hair. Sitting in school she glanced out the window. The sky was clear, and the wind lightly blew. Just earlier the class had recited the Pledge of Allegiance.

The kids returned from lunch and filed into their seats. They were still rowdy from recess. They squirmed in their seats ready for the afternoon lesson. Their teacher walked in and closed the door. She had curled black hair and black cat eye-glasses. The door opened and a voice called her out of the room. After a minute, she returned. She was softly crying. Tears fell from her eyes but she managed to muster up a few words.

“The president has been shot,” she said.

The faces of the young children went blank. The kids sat in their seats silently. The class was dismissed and school was not held until the next week. The next few hours were dipped in a fog. Elaine could not recall the bus ride home. Her mind shut down.

When she returned home, the television was already turned on to the news. Her mother paced the house, restless. The rooms of the house were filled with the sound of a manly voice. The voice of Walter Cronkite echoed to every part of the house alerting all the members of the family of the latest updates. Cronkite was the most popular CBS news anchor at the time. The family relied on Cronkite to relay any updates. When their eyes were not glued to the screen, they were listening.

On their small screen, in black and white. Cronkite sat at a desk and spoke into a thin microphone. The camera zoomed into his face. His hair was slicked back neatly, and his bushy eyebrows hardly moved while he was speaking. He reached for his chunky black reading glasses. He stared somberly into the camera, Elaine felt like he was talking directly to her. He fidgeted with his glasses and repeatedly looked down at the desk like the words were almost too hard for him to get out.

“President Kennedy died at 1 Central Standard Time 2 Eastern Standard Time, 38 minutes ago,” he said.

The death of the president rocked the small and patriotic town. It invited shock and fear into the all-American family’s home. Elaine’s neighbors dropped their flags to half-staff. In the days following, everywhere Elaine went she overheard whispers of fear and concern. She wondered what was going to happen to the country. In the grocery store, people spent more time gossiping than food shopping.

President Kennedy’s funeral was broadcasted on November 25. Again, her family gathered together in the small living room. They watched solemnly. No one said a word. The younger children were silent even though they did not understand what was happening. The faces of thousands of citizens were featured on the screen.

On Thursday, November 28, the family gathered in front of the television again. Elaine and her father watched the giant balloons stride down the street for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. That Thanksgiving was quieter than usual. The family had an open-door policy with neighbors and family but on that day, the front door was never opened. Her mother cooked a feast as usual. She brought out the good china for the holiday. Elaine recalls only seeing the blue china set on special occasions. In the middle of the table were candles wrapped in plastic. Her mother always put them out for display but never burned them. The family gathered around the table. This was the first time all of the family dined together since the news. They turned off the radio and the television. Though the country suffered a great loss, the family was able to unite in the wake of chaos.