– Mark Twain
Where were you and what were you doing when you got the news 50 years ago that President Kennedy had been killed?
It’s one of those questions people in my generation have discussed for half a century now. At The Chronicle, we’d like to compile these for a story this month on that 1963 event.
The easiest way is to send an e-mail to firstname.lastname@example.org.
STILL TRAVELING: Doris and Marty Charnock sent a postcard from Santa Rosa Beach, Fla., where the weather is “perfect.”
Carl and Polly Schutte are back in Switzerland after leaving Pompeii. Marilyn Moore and daughter Sheryl sent a pirate postcard from the Massachusetts coast.
Evelyn Casey, of Martinez, was visiting the Baltic capitals and reports she crossed the Russian border into St. Petersburg: “What an overwhelming experience.”
Greg and Teresa Brooks got away to Seattle for a quick cruise from Vancouver to Los Angeles. The Schraders, of Evans, sent a card from Croatia, where they found no baseball but kept their team spirit, adding “Roll Tide!”
Finally, Dr. Allen and Marge Pelletier, of North Augusta, were kind enough to share many postcards from their summer trip to Croatia. They filed very complete reports from several stops and I really appreciate them.
TODAY’S JOKE: Frank Allen shares an old favorite:
Sitting on the side of the highway waiting to catch speeding drivers, a police officer sees a car puttering along at 22 mph.
Says he to himself: “This driver is just as dangerous as a speeder!”
So he turns on his lights and pulls the driver over. Approaching the car, he notices that there are five senior ladies, two in the front seat and three in the back ... wide-eyed and white as ghosts.
The driver, obviously confused, says to him, “Officer, I don’t understand, I was doing exactly the speed limit. What seems to be the problem?”
“Ma’am,” the officer replies, “you weren’t speeding, but you should know that driving slower than the speed limit can also be a danger to other drivers.”
“Slower than the speed limit? No sir, I was doing the speed limit exactly … 22 miles an hour!” the old lady says a bit proudly.
The policeman, trying to contain a chuckle, explains to her that 22 is the highway number, not the speed limit.
Embarrassed, the woman grins and thanks the officer for pointing out her error.
“But before I let you go, ma’am, I have to ask, Is everyone in this car OK? These women seem awfully shaken, and they haven’t made a peep this whole time,” the officer asks.
“Oh, they’ll be all right in a minute, Officer. We just got off Highway 121.”