My family and I went to Washington DC sometime in the late 60s. I don't remember anything about the trip itself, just being at Arlington Cemetery. It must have been in the summer of 1968, because Robert Kennedy's grave was not completely grown over.
I was 21 and not quite sure where my life was headed. I missed France terribly still and hated everything about America or New Jersey. When RFK was shot it just confirmed everything and showed me I was right.
Seeing his grave brought it home somehow. It was just a simple white cross with a grave marker.
It was the JFK site that ripped me apart the most though, along with the eternal flame and the Custis-Lee Mansion, so fresh in my mind from the funeral. It had only been five years since the assassination now with the new pain of RFK.
The Custis-Lee Mansion is itself a memorial. It was once the home of Robert E. Lee. Now it's called Arlington House, the Robert E. Lee Memorial. It sits about the Kennedy grave sites with the flag eternally at half mast.
We had planned to find the statue that had been sculpted by Sir Moses Ezekiel, my great-great-(great?)-uncle, but we were more emotionally distraught than we had expected and didn't look very hard. We said we'd come back.
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| Sculpture by Sir Moses Ezekiel at Arlington National Cemetery |
Arlington Cemetery was one of the most emotional experiences I can remember, very similar to seeing Omaha Beach. All those headstones...
When we were driving back to the city, we looked back towards Arlington and saw the Custis-Lee Mansion and knew the graves were there. My mother and I both erupted into a flood of sobs. We were uncontrollable. So of course, my sister started crying too. My father even was very touched, I could tell, because he didn't say anything. He didn't tell us to stop crying, because I think he couldn't talk. It was much more overwhelming than we had expected. I begged my dad for years to request burial at Arlington, but he always said no. I don't know why.
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| Funeral Procession JFK |
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| Arlington Memorial Bridge |
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| Pont Alexandre III |
When we had arrived, my mother and I both had commented on how the Arlington Memorial Bridge reminded us of le Pont Alexander III in Paris.
In 1970, David and I went to Arlington when we went to the peace march. Once again, we
looked for Sir Moses' statue, but we were on foot and it was too far away. I was still as
moved as ever at the graves of RFK and JFK.