You can't Fake Class.

Last Friday was the 50th anniversary of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. By now, even those generations removed from the horrible events of November 22nd in Dallas, Texas are familiar with the pictures as the events unfolded in front of the world in 1963.

There are few things that I remember of the Kennedy era. But, I do remember Mrs. Kennedy. From the perspective of a 7 year old, she reminded me of my mother. Certainly, I thought my mother was just as pretty as Jackie. (I remember my mother and all her friends called Mrs. Kennedy "Jackie.") The picture I've chosen for this post clearly shows that Mrs. Kennedy was a strikingly beautiful woman.

Growing up, I would see documentaries about the Kennedy family and Mrs. Kennedy was shown to have a soft voice. It was almost lilting. It seemed to fit her delicate frame well.  She was an icon of style. I remember in the late 1960's and '70's that newspapers would cover what she wore to this place or that. The length of her skirt seemed to be of great import to someone. It was in the paper a lot.

Watching the news coverage over this past weekend, I learned more of Mrs. Kennedy from the perspective of an adult. After all, I could understand the impact of the events I was watching and since I was observing at my lea sure, I was able to take in what I saw as I pleased.

Most of us are familiar with the image of Jacqueline Kennedy wearing the famous pink suit, somberly looking on as Lyndon B. Johnson is sworn in as President of the United States. She refused to change the blood stained cloths for the rest of the day. The story goes that she wanted the public to see what "they" had done to her husband.

I can only imagine the grief and heartbreak she must have felt during those 4 days. First her husband was brutally murdered as he sat next to her. He died in her lap. Then, she endured the public events of the state funeral, held with great ceremony at her behest. Yet, through it all she endured with dignity and grace.

It's that dignity and grace that I admire. Publicly she remained a rock. She calmly belt her children's hands as she guided them through the mourning process that they did not, could not understand. Much like the American people who too, could not understand.

She allowed her little boy, John, Jr. to be a little boy. He was just mimicking what he saw all the other men doing when he saluted as his father went by. How could he understand on that day? It was his 3rd birthday. His mother promised him a birthday party back at the White House when everything was done.

So, here we have Jacqueline Kennedy, steadfastly and with great dignity attending to the needs of her children as her husband is publicly laid to rest. She continued to Shepard her children. But, you see, there's more.

In two smaller cemeteries in Dallas, there were two other funerals going on that 25th of November 1963. One was attended by almost no one. Just a young wife and an elderly mother and a small contingent of press. The funeral of Lee Harvey Oswald slipped into history nearly unnoticed, a fitting tribute to a nondescript life, save one senseless act. The body of the Presidential Assassin had to be carried to the grave by some of the attending press. There were no pallbearers. An ignominious life comes to rest in a final irony.

The other funeral in Dallas on that day was for Dallas Police Officer J.D. Tippit. To be sure, this funeral was attended by hundreds. The press did not have to act as pallbearers. Here's the thing that struck me headrest about Mrs. Kennedy. On that most horrible of days for Mrs. Tippit and Mrs Kennedy, Jackie wrote a personal note expressing her sympathy. She told Mrs. Tippit that when she lit the flame at her husband's grave that day, it was just as much for Officer Tippit as for the fallen President. That's class!

In her grief, Jacqueline Kennedy had the grace to think of someone else and their loss and performed that simple gesture of a hand written note. It's the little things in life that count.

As always...