John F. Kennedy: Assassin?

In honor of Presidents Day, I thought it would be appropriate to share with you the true story of my first encounter with a President of the United States. 

This week’s edition of Thoughts For the Week is adapted from my forthcoming autobiographical novel, Seeking ‘The Big Time’. 

One explanatory note. Yes, the character “Dickie” in the story below is yours truly, Rich Perkey. I shed the nickname “Dickie” in high school, so that I could run for class president and use “Get Rich Quick!” as a campaign slogan. (Yes, I won…).

I hope you enjoy this…

John F. Kennedy: Assassin?

I sat taller than all other people on Woodward Avenue in Detroit that September day in 1960. Despite being only 2 years old, I am 7’6” as I sit on Chuck’s shoulders, my legs splayed around his neck.

It is scary up here! I am glad Chuck is holding me tight. “You are not going to fall!” he says. I am way taller than my sister, Randee, and my brother, Chip. Randee must peer between people standing in front of us if she is to see anything. I like it up here; I can see everything. Ginnie hoists Chip so that he rests on her hip. Chip is glad to be here.

I am still getting to know this Chuck guy that I also call “Daddy”. I am learning to trust Chuck. So far, so good. He lifts me up and lets me down. Ginnie, who I alternately call “MOM” or “Mommy” or “Momma,” is always there when I pee on myself.

A bunch of people dressed in colorful uniforms come past, blowing horns and beating drums. They walk in unison, each step the same length. I can’t read what is on the long piece of paper that the two girls in front of them are carrying.

That’s okay, that is why I have a big sister.

“‘Happy Labor Day from The AFL-CIO!’” says Randee. Randee is smart. She can read. Chip is just glad to be here. I may be the youngest of the three of us, but I am the biggest, with the best view.

“Look, Dickie, there he is! There he is!” Chuck says. He points to the right, to a car slowly approaching.

There is no top on the car. There is a man driving the car, but another man and a woman in the back seat are doing something that Chuck would never allow me to do! The man and woman are sitting on the top of the back seat, their feet where their butts are supposed to be! People are going CRAZY, trying to get the attention of the man and woman, who smile and wave to everyone and no one in particular. The waving woman is almost as pretty as Ginnie.

There is a sign stuck to the door of the car, on the side where the driver of the car sits. “It says ‘Kennedy For President’!” Randee yells to me and Chip. “‘Leadership For The 60’s!’”

The car is almost in front of us. The man at whom everybody is yelling, this ‘Kennedy for President’ guy, locks eyes with me. “Hey, Kennedy For President!” I think to myself. I smile. I wave to him, which is to say that I move my hand in front of my face towards Kennedy For President like I am screwing a lightbulb into Kennedy For President’s forehead.

This guy must be special, because everybody is whooping and hollering like they did when I took my first steps!

All of a sudden, things get dicey.

I am smiling my brains out at Kennedy For President, but despite my effort to charm him, he has made his right hand into a gun.

Suddenly, Kennedy For President points his “hand gun” at me!

Kennedy For President aims his “hand gun” right between my eyes and pulls the trigger, his “hand gun” recoiling from the force of the shot!

Kennedy For President smiles at me as he "shoots" me. Even though I am in imaginary imminent danger, I smile back at Kennedy For President. I was an easy target as I am the tallest person on Woodward Avenue. Being jug eared, my head made for a big, wide target, bigger and wider than that of the typical two-year-old.

Kennedy For President continued down Woodward Avenue, smiling and waving to the cheering crowd. I was unharmed by his "attack." I did not know about the significance of my assailant, this Kennedy for President guy, until a couple of years later.

Man, that was amazing! People were packed together, yelling and screaming and smiling and all focused on that one man, Kennedy For President! All those people who were yelling for him and smiling…they loved that man! You could tell he loved their yelling, as he was grinning from ear to ear! The cheers were so loud I almost couldn’t hear Chuck yell, “That’s the next President of the United States!”

I don’t know what it means to be the President of the United States, but I do know this: I like the noise.

I wonder: how do you get people to cheer for you like that?