i was 15, and a sophomore in high school. i was sitting in social studies class, when the PA system crackled on, and the news that the president had been shot came over the speakers--the office had set a radio in front of the mike, and we were getting a static-ridden first person account of what was going on. after a few minutes, school was dismissed, and we didn't hear of the actual death until we reached our homes. mom had the t.v. on, mesmerized by those black and white images on the screen. her sister lived in D.C., and my uncle worked in the pentagon. her mother lived there, and also worked in the pentagon, so we felt it personally---this was where we spent summer vacations. i had been to the white house, been in the oval office, seen the grounds. and i was devastated...childhood's end.