None know, for sure
Yes, I remember where I was a half century ago. Just getting out of my Grade V class, via that scary fire escape on the end of the building. No emergency; the door was in our classroom and it was part of our good luck to test the acrophobia on a daily basis. There was, as I recall, a single loudspeaker on the outside of the building, and the head nun announced what sounded like the end of the world, as we knew it.
A child of the newly minted Media age, I went straight home to make sure the black and white TV was tuned to a news broadcast. Joke. In those days, that didn’t even exist; we got whatever the CBC decided to place in the schedule. And for the next few days, we got confusion.
Fast forward fifty, and the confusion still exists. No, I don’t know who killed JFK. Nor do you. Nor does Oliver Stone. The Bush league? Maybe.
Anyhow, there’ll be lots of time to review, during the weekend. As long as the Vanier Cup isn’t preempted by some old news, I’m good. Maybe I’ll look for a copy of Executive Action, which I saw during the original main screen run in Charlottetown four decades ago. Put a proper edge on the conspiracy blade. Or, dig out a copy of the Warren Commission report, which promised large and delivered narrow. PDF, to save paper.
Or maybe I’ll fast forward to today. We still have mysterious political games, much closer in the rear view mirror.
