Today’s another of those things that we Americans love to indulge in: anniversaries.
The commemoration today: the 40th anniversary of the assassination of President Kennedy. A horrifying event, which — like September 11 — shocked the nation out of a kind of complacency and forced us to look somewhere we hadn’t before.
It’s interesting how we seem to be consumed by marking anniversaries. I don’t know if it’s because we can’t let go of things or because they provide some kind of entertainment value, pushed along by the media (who have endless airtime to fill) or politicians (who raise the spectre of some horrific event to promote their view of patriotism). Whatever the reason, anniversary commemorations have become a full-time occupation, haven’t they? Complete with day-long retrospectives and ribbons everywhere.
Incidentally, more anniversaries: Today in 1990, Margaret Thatcher resigned. In 1980, Mae West died.
Tomorrow is the 40th anniversary of the first broadcast of Dr. Who (which was delayed slightly due to the news coverage of November 22, 1963); and it’s the 60th anniversary of my father’s birth. And Harpo Marx, as well.
