Witness/Narrative: Jacqueline (Jackie) Kennedy Onassis
*start sitting down* *stand up, look at roses (red) and pick one up* I used to love these, you know, before he died. They gave me a lot of these that day. I’m assuming you’re here for that story. Well in order for that day to make sense you’re going to need all of the details. I was born Jacqueline Lee Bouvier {boo-v-ay}, into a happy family on July 28, 1929, in the wonderful state of New York. At a young age I was put on a horse and immediately loved it and continued with it for the rest of my life. I was sent to the best private schools money could get and with my intelligent brain the teachers loved me. After college I decided to apply in a contest for Vogue and won! However I decided …show more content…
Dallas welcomed us well and we set off on our small parade. He wanted the people to feel close to him and me, so he told special services to keep the car open and for them not to be beside or on the back of the car, for I should be seen. We were turning onto Elm Street; it was all happy and going well, then all of a sudden I heard the shots ring out. I, upon hearing the gunfire, thought that maybe it was a firecracker. However my husband had been struck. When he was hit, he had such a wonderful expression, “Then he slumped in my lap. His blood and brains were in my lap.” I remember I was saying his name and others were screaming, “He’s dead! He’s dead.” He was raced to the hospital as I held him in my lap. After we got to the hospital they pronounced my beloved Jack dead, so I rode back to Air Force One with his casket. I watched Lyndon Johnson get inaugurated on the plane while still in the pink suit. I was asked about changing and I said I wanted the people to see what they had done to my husband. We threw a big funeral taking after president Lincoln's. I took my daughter to say goodbye to her father, while his casket was at the capitol building. I walked from the cathedral to Arlington National Cemetery, against what the others wanted. I was hurt beyond belief and couldn’t even have a picture of his face for months. Paintings of him having been sent to me as a gift, my son saw them one night; he kissed the painting and said, “Good night daddy.” It was at that point when I realized the paintings needed to leave the next day. While I stayed composed in public I was distraught behind closed doors. I was categorized as a heroine of sorts; they said I was helping hold the nation together. That’s not how I felt though. It felt like my life was over and now I had to wait for it to really be over. I just wanted to be with my husband and two young
*start sitting down* *stand up, look at roses (red) and pick one up* I used to love these, you know, before he died. They gave me a lot of these that day. I’m assuming you’re here for that story. Well in order for that day to make sense you’re going to need all of the details. I was born Jacqueline Lee Bouvier {boo-v-ay}, into a happy family on July 28, 1929, in the wonderful state of New York. At a young age I was put on a horse and immediately loved it and continued with it for the rest of my life. I was sent to the best private schools money could get and with my intelligent brain the teachers loved me. After college I decided to apply in a contest for Vogue and won! However I decided …show more content…
Dallas welcomed us well and we set off on our small parade. He wanted the people to feel close to him and me, so he told special services to keep the car open and for them not to be beside or on the back of the car, for I should be seen. We were turning onto Elm Street; it was all happy and going well, then all of a sudden I heard the shots ring out. I, upon hearing the gunfire, thought that maybe it was a firecracker. However my husband had been struck. When he was hit, he had such a wonderful expression, “Then he slumped in my lap. His blood and brains were in my lap.” I remember I was saying his name and others were screaming, “He’s dead! He’s dead.” He was raced to the hospital as I held him in my lap. After we got to the hospital they pronounced my beloved Jack dead, so I rode back to Air Force One with his casket. I watched Lyndon Johnson get inaugurated on the plane while still in the pink suit. I was asked about changing and I said I wanted the people to see what they had done to my husband. We threw a big funeral taking after president Lincoln's. I took my daughter to say goodbye to her father, while his casket was at the capitol building. I walked from the cathedral to Arlington National Cemetery, against what the others wanted. I was hurt beyond belief and couldn’t even have a picture of his face for months. Paintings of him having been sent to me as a gift, my son saw them one night; he kissed the painting and said, “Good night daddy.” It was at that point when I realized the paintings needed to leave the next day. While I stayed composed in public I was distraught behind closed doors. I was categorized as a heroine of sorts; they said I was helping hold the nation together. That’s not how I felt though. It felt like my life was over and now I had to wait for it to really be over. I just wanted to be with my husband and two young