JFK assassinated – 7th grade in LA, SoCal. I started getting ‘weepy’ when the news was played over the intercom in class. A kid a couple rows over called me a cry baby, so I walked over and hit him in the face before he could stand up. I broke out his two front teeth and cracked his jaw. It was a sucker punch, but the punk needed it. He had his jaw wired for several weeks. I wasn't even sent home or suspended, because maybe the teacher thought the punk needed it, too.
RFK assassinated (bonus) – 11th grade in LA, SoCal. I walked into the house from a date the night it happened, and my dad was watching the news. It didn’t sink in until the next day on the way to school past LAX when I noticed most of the cars had their lights on in mourning.
MLK assassinated (bonus) – No specific recollection.
First man on moon – Ft Rucker, AL in AIT (‘Army Tech School’) learning to repair helicopters. I watched the grainy B&W pictures in the Day Room with a bunch of other guys and listened to Walter Cronkite narrate.
The Beatles broke up – I was in Vietnam doing my bit in stemming the ‘yellow tide’ from reaching our shores by being a target in the door of a helicopter. I don’t have any specific recollection of the event, because I was probably stoned and – like the Beatles themselves - those memory cells aren’t around anymore.
