by Bob Stealey
EDITOR
You may think it strange that today, the 37th "anniversary" of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy in Dallas, I am using a poem on his son, "John John," who was killed in an airplane crash in July 1999.
The verse was written by frequent Bob'n'Along contributor Connie Langer Huffman, who had submitted it to us this past July to run just before the one-year date of the younger Kennedy's death. However, at the time, I already had a column written for the intended date. So, according to her request, I am using it now. Titled "John John -- He Kept the Promise," it follows:
Death came to his father's door.
When he was just a little boy.
A little boy of three -- only three
He said his last farewell, you see.
His mother in a blackened veil across
Her lovely anguished face.
Sister Caroline kneeling at the
Coffin with a small child's grace.
On that cold November day
Their beloved father went away.
Away in a flag-draped coffin
On Washington's cobble-stoned street
Bringing sadness with each beat.
Black Jack, the riderless horse
Was a part of the procession
As old Bob was in Lincoln's day.
Mrs. Kennedy had planned it just that way.
As the caisson rolled by
Little John John stepped out,
To give a gallant salute and say
His last good-bye.
He appeared to be a little man
A little man who didn't cry.
Washington's streets were lined
With a sea of faces from all races.
Our land was filled with so much emotion,
An entire nation was trapped in grief
From ocean to ocean.
Jackie, the blessed first lady of our land
She appeared so fragile yet so strong.
She held up with reserved grace among the throngs.
On a sloping hillside in Arlington National Cemetery
This is where his grave would be -- November 25, 1963.
As Jackie lit the eternal flame,
His newfound legacy became history.
She became a mighty force
Protecting her children in every way.
She instilled in them a way to be their own person
Not as the world would have them be.
The lamp would light the way, you see.
Our little John John became John F. Kennedy Jr.,
A sophisticated person in his own right.
He loved life and experienced it in the flame's light
From a celebrity owning "George"
To a simple walk in Central Park
His life was one that always held the spark.
He kept the promise to go, and see, and do
Not to be tainted by the throngs.
He kept the promise to his mother
He sang his own song.
It was on a somber night in May 1994 when he emerged
From his mother's New York apartment door
To announce his family's grief once more
He announced hear death with
The Kennedy courage in his eyes
This time the grown-up John would cry.
The world embraced these children once again
It seemed their pain and grief would never end
Jackie, oh Jackie could we ever part
With our lovely "queen of hearts"?
Ecclesiastes 3 relates:
"To everything there is a Season,
And a time to every purpose,
Under the heaven: A time to be born, a time to die."
John would be the next to say good-bye.
He was cut down like a lily of the field
Cut down in his prime -- July 1999
Cut down with his beloved.
To the world it seemed a crime.
Our promise didn't keep,
The one we cradled in our minds
That he would be our president sometime.
He kept the promise.
He kept the promise, but the promise didn't keep.
Like his father, he was struck down in his prime.
The picture of that little lad,
Saluting, will be forever engraved in our minds.
We love you, John John!
Thanks, Connie. And to all, an enjoyable, thankful thanksgiving!
Exponent-Telegram Editor Bob Stealey can be reached by phone at (304) 626-1438 or by e-mail at rstealey@exponent-telegram.com.