On November 22, 1963, Michael’s father woke him up early. He opened Michael’s bedroom door with a bang, holding an alarm clock shaped like a cat in his hand, a wake-up song trilling as he danced around Michael’s bed.
“Time to get up, son! It’s a beautiful day.”
Michael groaned and cracked his eyes open. His mother was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, smiling indulgently at her husband. She was still in her nightgown, but Michael’s father was already dressed in a suit and tie for work.
“Happy birthday, Michael,” she said.
“Thanks, Mom,” Michael said. “Dad, can you turn off that racket?”
“You don’t like the alarm clock?” his dad said doubtfully, looking down at the tinny
cartoonish thing. He cranked it to turn it off.
“Anyway!” Michael’s mother said, “I have breakfast all prepared for you—chocolate-
chip pancakes with bananas and syrup on top. Go ahead and get dressed, and we’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
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Michael’s father tousled his hair on his way out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Michael stretched. He was fifteen today, only three months into high school. He got out of bed and pulled the shades up on his window: his father had been right; it was a beautiful day. The sky was a clear blue, and the tall pine trees in the backyard waved in a slight breeze. Los Angeles was a good place to have a birthday in November. Michael’s cousins lived in New Jersey, and their birthdays, in October and December, were always cold and wet.
He whistled as he got dressed, and then walked through the long ranch-style house to the kitchen, where his mother was sitting with the baby and his father was standing by the sink drinking coffee out of a mug.
“Ah, the sleepyhead finally rises!” his father said.
Michael sat down to a plate of delicious-looking pancakes and immediately dug in. On a wood stand, the small black-and-white television was turned on. Walter Cronkite was talking about President Kennedy’s trip to Texas and what Mrs. Kennedy was wearing.
“Oh, I love that little pillbox,” his mother said, as an image of the first couple walking downthestepsofanairplanepoppeduponthescreen.
“That woman has more style than what-all,” his father said, taking a seat next to Michael at the table.
“She really is the most elegant woman I’ve ever seen,” Michael’s mother said. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be her friend. You know, I bet she is the best
source of advice and fashion tips."
Michael continued eating his pancakes, only half paying attention to the conversation. He knew his parents admired President Kennedy and his wife, but politics and fashion were not high on his list of interests. He was more focused on turning fifteen and the possibilities that came with it.
As he finished his breakfast, the television switched to another news segment. This time, the reporter's voice had a solemn tone. Michael's parents immediately turned their attention to the screen.
"We interrupt our regular programming to bring you some breaking news," the reporter said. "There has been an incident in Dallas, Texas. Shots were fired at President Kennedy's motorcade, and there are reports of injuries."
Michael's heart skipped a beat. He looked at his parents, their faces filled with shock and concern. The room fell silent as they listened to the unfolding news.
Minutes felt like hours as the updates came in. Kennedy was rushed to the hospital, and the nation held its breath, hoping for the best. But soon, the devastating truth became clear: President Kennedy had been assassinated.
Tears welled up in Michael's eyes as grief washed over him. It was no longer his birthday, no longer a beautiful day. The world had irrevocably changed.
In the days that followed, Michael and his family, like the rest of the nation, mourned the loss of a beloved leader. The television became a constant presence, broadcasting the events surrounding the tragedy, the funeral, and the nation's collective grief.
Michael couldn't help but feel a profound sense of loss, not only for the president but also for the innocence and optimism that seemed to die with him. The world suddenly felt darker, more uncertain.
As he reflected on his birthday, now forever entwined with this national tragedy, Michael realized that life could change in an instant. The simple joy and excitement of turning fifteen were overshadowed by the harsh reality of a world filled with violence and uncertainty.
But amidst the darkness, Michael also began to see a glimmer of hope. The nation came together in mourning, united by a common grief. And as he looked at his family, gathered around the television, he felt a deep sense of love and support that fortified him.
Michael knew that moving forward would be difficult, but he also knew that he had the strength and resilience to face whatever challenges lay ahead. And as his fifteenth birthday came to a close, he held onto the memories of his parents' love, the taste of chocolate-chip pancakes, and the realization that even in the face of tragedy, there was still beauty and love to be found in the world.