“Bye, Bye, Miss American Pie...”

Today is the anniversary of when the music died. More than just a President died on this day, at this hour, fifty years ago.

President John F. Kennedy for many was special — an icon, an idol, seemingly worshiped like a god in published and broadcast media — even before he seemingly single-handedly averted nuclear destruction of living beings from this earth by successfully negotiating with Russia the removal of missiles from Cuba. He was portrayed in photos and written accounts as a loving father and as an engaging conversationalist with an easygoing personality.

This President’s death seemed to unleash an obsession for subculture exploration — a probing, searching, investigative, serious inquiry into the life behind a veneer — not just of a President, but of our very existence. We changed — big time.

John Kennedy’s secrets were laid bare to the public. Few knew of the serious pain that he experienced most days of his life, a result of the injuries he sustained when the patrol boat he commanded sank in World War II. We all came to know that he cheated on his wife. And some still debate the connections he might have had with organized-crime leaders.

His death ripped off the superficial cover that was what we still call “The American Dream”.

“Quest for Truth” was not a priority in American culture before November 22, 1963. It became so in the years after his death. Further on and to the present day, this probe has not always been good. Too often this quest has been twisted, morphed, and spun into a convoluted, exorbitant race for many to show proof that they showed the true path to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness”.

But this quest also opened the world’s eyes to see the richness that lay beneath the superficial cover that existed before a beloved President’s death. Today, the wonderful mix that is American culture is well-established, and we are more aware and careful of how all of us humans relate to each other and to the globe on which we live. We are more wholesome souls, even though it took the death of one man to give us a better vision and more motivation to search for wholesomeness.

Of course, we could look at the death of one and ask why the deaths of many does not result in similar reactions. Yet events like the Holocaust of World War II didn’t have the intense focus that four days of non-stop broadcast of the mourning of a President’s death had. We don’t have a bugler’s emotional, quivering sound at a graveside to tug our heartstrings, even to this day, and spawn remembrances of fifty years ago — and also spawn analysis anew of what it meant and means to have something special wrenched from our grasp.

More than President Kennedy’s death is being considered today. We consider yet again who we are as humans, what we are doing to our existence, and why we haven’t yet learned how to live together in peace, relating in love to each other without hate or malice or prejudice.

The music isn’t dead. I know it isn’t; it lies there — new tunes of love and cooperation and inclusiveness and joy and, most importantly, hope. And I know that John F. Kennedy hears the music of a greater existence that we all will experience after this life. Knowing that is reason enough and motivation enough to keep searching for the notes and melodies that leave us with a renewed, rebuilt, restored world.

Thank you, Mr. President, for your service and your legacy.

(November 22, 2013 at 2:15pm EST)