I was 5 and I remember coming home from playing and my had the little tv on in the kitchen and she was crying. We watched the coverage of it for a few hours. I was upset because my mother was upset and although I knew it was our President, I was still too young and didn't really understand what death was, who the President was, and why my mom was so upset about it. After all, we didn't know him, why was she upset about a stranger? I felt weird. But, I also remember where I was when Bobby was shot. I had just walked in to the schoolground when several girls came rushing up and asking had I heard about Bobby Kennedy. I thought, "Oh, no - not another Kennedy shot! Their poor mother." That's what I first thought. And this time, I cried because I understood. I was 10.
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