We’ll raise a glass to JFK

On this day in 1963, President John F. Kennedy had his date with destiny (and a rifle bullet) in Dallas, Texas.

I have mixed feelings about the man and his legacy. My parents revered the man, whose election presidency symbolized the unbridled promise of a new decade and a new generation of leaders. My father especially took JFK’s vigorous brand of Cold War liberalism to heart, and to this day will not tolerate any criticism of the man.

As I grew older, and my political awareness developed, the notion of JFK as a saintlike figure I inherited from my parents was gradually eroded away, not from the right, but from the left. I held onto my parents’ progressive idealism, but moved toward a more radical antinomian perspective. The nuclear sabre-waving over a fictitious “missile gap,” the Bay of Pigs fiasco, and the shenanigans that set the stage for America’s futile and protracted engagement in Vietnam -- not to mention the sleazy alliances with corrupt party machines and mob-front labor organizations – paint a much darker picture of a president I had been taught to believe was the Ideal Democrat.

Such is the danger of idolatry; it’s far better to acknowledge the “warts and all” from the get go, rather than deal with the shocking disappointment over clay feet down the road. I had professor in college who tried to reconcile his Chomskean politics with affection for JFK by insisting that had Kennedy lived, he would have turned on the CIA and military-industrial complex. That’s why he was assassinated, according to my professor. His argument struck me as an attempt to buttress a collapsing façade with Popsicle sticks, but it also demonstrated the manner in which JFK captured (and retains a hold on) the imagination of that generation.

The Misfits – Bullet (from Static Age, 1978/1997) – “Texas is the reason that the president’s dead.” It makes better sense than either Oliver Stone’s or James Ellroy’s explanation.

Human Sexual Response – Jackie Onassis (from Fig. 15, 1980) – Yet another band tainted by mental association with a former girlfriend of mine. It’s a shame because they’re really good and they were from Boston (which is always a plus with me, unless the band in question is Morphine or Extreme).

The Pogues - Thousands Are Sailing (from If I Should Fall From Grace With God, 1988) – JFK is only mentioned in passing, but I remembered it’s been almost seventeen years to the day since I first saw the band live at the Opera House in Boston, and felt like commemorating that event.