John F. Kennedy’s death seared the world like no other in modern history. Countless statesmen, politicians, heroes and celebrities have riveted the world in their lives and deaths, but for my generation, it is JFK’s death that divides the world into before and after. I had just turned nine, and my parents were 35 years old. As with Joshua at Jericho, the Sun and Moon seemed to stand still in Dallas that day a half-century ago. And, even stranger, the feeling of world-changing loss has actually grown rather than diminished with the passing of time.

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