She was three years old on Nov. 22, 1963. "I knew it was the most important thing ever," she said to me, recalling the day John F. Kennedy died. "My mother was crying. I had never seen an adult cry." Now a graduate student in government at the University of Texas, she said she often thinks about that day 30 years ago. When I asked her what she thinks about Kennedy now, she said she doesn't really know much about him. Yet she shares with other young people a sense of loss and anger about something they never got to know.
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