I was on the couch. That’s where my mom used to change me. Even though I would be turning 5 months old in just 4 days, she insisted on making me continue to wear those bulky, confining diapers, that bunch up and rub in places it’s not polite to talk about.

But there were those few, rare occasions of respite on the couch when I was free. Oh to get out of my fetters and crawl around in the fresh air. It was always short lived. And though those moments were filled with joy, they were always overshadowed by the knowledge that no matter how much I wriggled, that safety pin was going to find a way to prick me in the left hip when my loins would be bound again. Every time.

As mom was in the bathroom retrieving the talcum powder, the rotary phone started jangling. “Hello,” I heard her say into the receiver, “What? Oh my God!” There was a quiver in her voice as she spoke, and her hands trembled as she lit a Pall Mall with dad’s Zippo.

As she talked in the kitchen, my brother used the diversion to begin pelting me with Lincoln Logs. It was his solemn duty to ensure that I didn’t enjoy myself too much.

When mom returned, she turned-on our black and white Zenith console, and began re-swaddling me as we waited for the vacuum tubes to warm up enough for the picture to come on. Ouch! Confounded safety pins. The Zapruder film hadn’t surfaced yet, so the footage was of the motorcade and the emergency room.

While I didn’t get a chance to know President Kennedy, and didn’t quite grasp the gravity of the situation, I knew that this must have been something terrible: even though it was early in the afternoon, mom swizzled a double martini, and didn’t use any vermouth.

The main thing I actually do remember about the aftermath of that tragic event is that I was at least 6-years-old before I discovered that the Battle Hymn of the Republic was not a song about JFK. It seemed that every time there was a documentary or tribute to him on TV in the 1960’s that was the accompanying music. Eventually I wondered, “What has ‘Glory, Glory Hallelujah’ got to do with President Kennedy?”

I honestly do remember hating those diapers too.

Mike VanOuse

Lafayette