President John F. Kennedy & Marilyn Monroe’s Son, in his own words

well."

IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL spring day. I was with my grandparents on the Kennedy compound. I was coming down the stairs in the main house. My grandfather said, Marilyn is here, your mother, JR.

I saw her pull up in the car. I watched her as she was getting out of the vehicle. She had on a sweater over a beige dress with light-colored shoes. She was walking as if she had something to say. Her head held high, chin even, and her shoulders back. My mother looked as if she was walking on a cloud. I could tell this was going to be a day of reckoning just by the way she was walking. It was her private side that was walking up the walkway.

My father had tried to get me to meet Jacqueline for about two months without success. My mother, being the peacemaker that she is, came to talk to me.

Little Jack, I hear you are having an awkward time meeting with Jacqueline. Your father asked me to come and speak to you. Son, we cannot change what is going to happen; however, we can make it painless. This attitude you have taken is understandable but unacceptable. You are making yourself suffer.

Yes, Mother, but I do not like her. I look at Jacqueline and do not see the same qualities I see in you. The sweetness when you look into my father’s eyes, the feeling everything will turn out fine, your kindness, the tenderness that one feels when you enter a room. I feel as if we are going to lose all of that. You cannot ask me to sacrifice that. Just for something that my aunts, uncles, and grandparents want.

Son, no one can take that away from us. That is who we are. Those feelings will be with you forever. I will always be your mother, the one you love.

The sound of my mother’s voice let me know that I was in for a long chat. What was she going to talk to me about this time? She always said my father and I had what is called the father-son attitude. That was yes, Father, I hear you, and yes, I will do what you ask. But then turn around and do the opposite.

My Uncle Bobby would refer to bringing in the big guns when he was referring to my mother. She was the only one that could get me to change my attitude.

Jack is never going to meet with Jacqueline or approve of her unless you ask his mother for help.

Robert, I am working on it.

Mother was polite when she had to tackle any issue; she would sometimes call me Sugar, and this was one of those times.

Sugar, sit down here with me. I hear you do not want to meet Jacqueline. She is not going to hurt you. All we are asking is for you to meet her. You will have to learn to tolerate her, that’s all. There will always be someone here with you, so there’s nothing to fear.

I could feel the pain I was causing mother that day. I could hear it in her voice and see it in her eyes. As I was looking into her eyes, I was thinking, How could I do this to my mother? She already knew my feelings. It was Grandpa Joe who could put an end to all this.

How do I reach my grandfather? It’s not right to ask my father to trust this Jacqueline woman or to marry her. I wake up at night in a cold sweat. I can feel what is going to happen to us. I feel it right down to my very bones. Jacqueline is not a nice person. There is just something I do not like about her. I cannot tell you what it is.

Mother, you cannot ask me to like her.

I am not asking you to like Jacqueline. All you have to do is meet her.

Oh! Next, you’ll tell me I have to talk to her, too.

No, just smile at her, that’s all. That way, Jacqueline will not know your real feelings. I am going to stay with you to help you be that nice, polite boy that you are.

To hear my mother, Marilyn, tell it, she had to clean up the rough edges that all the Kennedy clan had. By the time Mother left, I was ready to meet with Jacqueline. The uneasy feeling that I was having had diminished, but it was not gone. Mother went back to New York. She let my dad know that the best he could hope for is that I understood what was going on, and I would do my best.

The day finally came to meet Jacqueline to give my approval and play nice. Am I welcoming Jacqueline into our family, or is she welcoming me into hers?

Here she was, this unassuming woman standing in front of me.

I did not let my mother down; I did what she asked of me. I walked up to Jacqueline and said, Hello, it is a pleasure to meet you, and it would be our pleasure if you joined us for lunch.

She was unaware of what I was feeling. She began to speak, and I could hear this phony voice. She was trying to get my approval so that this business deal that Grandfather came up with did not fall through. I felt the room become more at ease once we were formally introduced.

My father was nice to Jacqueline, but his face did not light up like when my mother enters the room. It is just what Grandpa said it was—a marriage of business and nothing more. There were still feelings of uneasiness when I was around her. I felt as if my world was coming to an end.

We were having lunch. Jacqueline was sitting across from me. I did not utterly understand what was going on. My grandmother started discussing the wedding with my father. He said there would be a time and place for that.

Grandma Rose said, This is a good time and place, John.

Dad looked at me, JR, it is time for us to leave. You have met Jacqueline. It seems as if you are going to go along with the program, son.

I rose from the table, smiled, nodded my head, and said, Goodbye.

As we were leaving the table, Jacqueline said, What a well-mannered boy.

I tried that afternoon not to let anyone see just how upset I was. I still did not trust this woman; there was something that was not genuine about her. My father and I left the house and drove to get ice cream. As he was driving, he centered the conversation around the lunch meeting.

Jr., now that you met with Jacqueline have you changed your view about her?

"Well! Dad, is this something that you have to do or want to do?"

I could tell that my question was not easy for him to answer.

Son, there are just some things that you have to do. Marrying Jacqueline is one of them. I did not plan for this to happen; it just did. I am happy with you and your mother. It is hard for you to understand that. Your Uncle Joe was being groomed to become President of the United States, not me. All that is happening is I am the next in line to fulfill your grandpa’s dream of having a son occupy the White House.

I could see that this was breaking my father’s heart. I could see the sadness and the pain resonating from his face. The sorrow and uncertainty he was going through.

I could only imagine what he was thinking. How would all of this play out for the family that I already have? What will this do to my son and his mother?

I sat quietly in the front seat of the car, thinking, How do I change these feelings that my father is having?

Father! We could have had ice cream at home. Why did we come here?

Son, I did not want you to lose the taste of ice cream; that’s why we left home.

Dad, this had to be the longest ride I have ever had to get ice cream.

It seemed as if it was on the other side of the world.

It turned out to be a beautiful drive to the ice cream shop. Passing by the homes looking out onto the ocean. The grass bending ever so gently in the wind, blue skies just riding along the road with my dad. He finally decides on the farthest ice cream shop he could find. We had our ice cream; it was time for the ride back to my grandparents’ home. On the way back home, dad filled me in on the family’s next move.

Jack, your mother, is coming to see you next week. She is going to ask how you liked meeting Jacqueline for the first time. I would like you to tell your mother about any misgiving you may or may not have. If you have any reservations, let her know. This marriage is something that I have to do to keep peace in our family. I will take care of you and your mother, as I always have. Your aunts and uncles will make sure that you and your mother will be fine. With that said, I hope that you will understand that I care and love you both.

When we arrived home, Jacqueline was no longer there. My grandfather was upset before we could even get our feet in the door.

He asked my father, Why did you leave so abruptly? You are lucky; I stay to have lunch!

"Mr. Ambassador, you do not seem to understand what you are asking me to do! Jack is my son; I am his father. I must care for him. You are asking me to put all my trust in this family and damn the consequences. I have to consider my wife’s and son’s welfare and feelings! I suppose you think this is a walk in the park for them as well. If this all goes awry, who will suffer the consequences? You? No, it will be me, my wife, and my son who will!" Dad shouted.

"Marilyn is right; there are no guarantees that any one of you will hold up your end of this bargain. We are playing with Jack’s life here, Mr. Ambassador! When the time comes for me to marry this woman, keep in mind that this is a deal. This is what I am doing to get you where you want to go," Dad reminded him.

All this time, I was doing what I do best. Taking it all in and going over it in my mind to see how it plays out.

The only time my father called my grandpa, Mr. Ambassador, was when he was upset. My dad once told me that Grandpa didn’t like it when he called him Mr. Ambassador. I could see in my father’s face that he did not want to marry Jacqueline. It was as if his world was crashing down around him.

My father took me home and got me ready for bed. This was one long day. The only thing I knew was that my life as I knew it was going to change. My father was having trust issues. Was his family going to keep their word? How were they going to keep me safe?

BEFORE LEAVING FOR WASHINGTON, D.C., my father arranged for me to meet him in New York City. Manhattan was our home away from home. It was there that my parents and I would go to become our own family. The good times we would have there. The walks in the park, dancing, and being a family.

My parents had two adjacent apartments in Manhattan. I did not understand at the time what was going on or why. For me, this was the norm. My father would come in one building, and my mother and I through the other. Just to see my father’s face light up when he was with my mother and me is well worth the inconvenience. To see him hugging her and kissing her made me feel as if we were home. The love that they had for one another was something that could not be denied. You see, my father made us feel safe and secure. While in Manhattan, my mother always planned out our week. My father’s job was to make sure that all would go according to her plan.

The day I arrived in Manhattan, the sun was shining, but it was still chilly out. I was taken to the apartment on the upper east side. I was the first one to arrive. Like always, there was someone there to walk me to the door and make sure that I was safe. The anticipation to see my parents was a feeling of total joy. My mother had always planned something special. To hear my father say, All days were exceptional when we were together.

It is hard for me to let go and share this story with anyone. I feel as if I am going to lose this part of my life. It is as if society will take my memories from me too. Mother would sometimes say, Culture can be cruel.

When my mother came to Manhattan, she never looked the same. It was as if she was a new person. I knew it was her by the different walks that she had. The way she would walk let me know how she was feeling and what she was going to do. On this day, mother had her I’m not in a hurry walk. She was walking on a cloud, and she had all the time in the world. I could see that there was no business on her mind, just being a mother and a wife was all. My parents and I were together.

We spent the day in Central Park. This man was following us and taking pictures of us, as so often happened. My father was getting annoyed with him. He walked up to the man and asked him to stop taking pictures of us, but he just kept it up. Mother walked up to the man and said something to him in that sweet and girlish voice of hers. The voice that makes most men never say no to her. By the time she finished talking to him, he had handed her a roll of film. She came back and gave it to my dad, and he put it in his pocket.

Darling, what did you say to him that made him give you the film?

Sometimes, you have to be a little more diplomatic about things, love.

The day ended on an upbeat. However, there was always something or someone who bothered us.

The next day, my mother decided we would go shopping on 5th Avenue. We were coming out of Saks Five Avenue Department Store. This tall and very distinguished-looking man walked up to my father and asked, Mr. Senator, how is your little brother Teddy?

Dad’s facial expression changed; his jawbone became more defined and sterner. He was biting down on his teeth to control his temper.

Ask my mother. I am sure she will let you know how my little brother is! At this particular time, I am with my wife and son, as you can see.

After the man left, Mother turned to my father and asked, Why is it every time you see this guy you get upset?

Someday, I’ll let you in on it, but this is not the day.

I had noticed that same stern look on my dad’s face many times before. It meant there was going to be cane to pay. I knew that he was going to tell my grandmother something. This was not the first time Mr. Moore has upset my dad. He goes out of his way to agitate my father and me!

Despite the annoying intrusion, the weekend turned out to be a beautiful family vacation. It reminded me of my grandparents’ place in Hyannis Port. That was where I stayed when I was not with my parents.

WHEN I RETURNED TO my grandparents’ home, they were preparing for the wedding.

Grandfather Joseph asks, Did your father inform you of how to address Jacqueline?

No, sir, he did not.

What exactly did your father tell you?

He said when he comes back, we will talk. That is… when he returns back home from Washington, D.C., to let me know about the wedding. He will explain to me then how I am to address Jacqueline Bouvier, and what changes this woman is going to make in my life.

Little Jack, you know better than that! You mean ‘lady,’ not ‘this woman.’

My grandfather only called me Little Jack when I was a hard head like my father.

The day finally arrived for the revelations I was waiting for, and dad sat me down to tell me what was expected of me.

Son, Jacqueline and I are going to have an arranged marriage. That means that this is a business deal between two adults. Not that I’ll care or love you and your mother, Marilyn less. Just that this is something I have to do to keep us together. Your grandfather made too many enemies over his lifetime. This is one of those times when the son has to pay for the sins of the father.

Dad, what does this have to do with me?

Son, Jacqueline is going to become your stepmother. On some occasions, you’ll have to call her ‘Stepmother.’ She is not going to take the place of your mother. However, this is going to change your life. That does not mean you have to call her ‘Stepmother’ all the time. You can refer to her as Jacqueline.

My father rose to his feet and walked into the next room. I heard him say in a grave voice to Grandpa Joe, Sometimes, a man’s life is not his own.

As the wedding day drew closer, the more apprehensive my father became. I would see his eyes well up, turning red. He would pick me up and whisper in my ear, Please forgive me, my son, forgive me.

I could feel the beat of his heart, the trembling of his hands and arms. As he would whisper, Son, I love you. Forgive me, forgive me, tears began to run down his face.

As he softly repeated, Forgive me, son, I could see the sadness come over my father. It was as if his world was coming to an end.

Dad, I am always going to forgive you. I know that you love my mother and me.

This man, who was my father, started to cry. It was not him, not the one that Mother called her rock.

I asked my father, If you do not want to marry Jacqueline, why even entertain the idea?

Son, there are things in your life that you cannot control. This is one of those things. I just want you to remember that I do not wish to hurt you or your mother. It’s your bedtime, so go upstairs, wash your face, and brush your teeth. I will be in later to tuck you in.

When my father came into my bedroom to tuck me in, he would always walk softly as if he did not want me to hear him come in. I could see the moonlight shining through the window. I was in-between awake and asleep. He would sit on my bed, whisper in my ear, and kiss me on my right cheek goodnight. My father made me feel that today is a good day, but tomorrow would be better.

On the day that Jacqueline became my stepmother, my father looked as if he had done something wrong. I could see that he was changed before my very eyes. His cheerful, greeting smile was no longer there on his face as he welcomed most of the guests. He shook their hands and nodded his head up and down to greet them, never uttering a word. My father was definitely not his usual self on this day. As the afternoon wore on, his attitude worsened.

By the end of the afternoon, my father took me by the hand. We walked into my grandpa’s study, where he was waiting for him.

Why is Jack accompanying you? Grandpa demanded to know.

Dad, he has every right to be in this study with us. This is all our lives you are asking me to alter. I want him to remember what went on in this room on this day. I do not understand how you want me to marry Jacqueline. But it’s done! So, I am here. What is it you have to say? my father replied.

He continued, This wedding was not supposed to be this vast spectacle. You and my mother turned this wedding into this thing that it’s not. How do you expect me to explain this spectacle to my wife, Marilyn? Just what should I say to her?

All I could see was my father sitting there with his face in his hands, asking my grandfather, How am I going to explain this? Just tell Marilyn this is the wedding that she and you did not invite us to, John.

I saw and felt the sadness on my father’s face as we took a few steps away from my grandfather. I could see that lost look on his face as if he was losing all control of his life. Just what did all of this have to do with me? Why did he want me to hear all of this? To be a witness to what? I have never heard my father speak this way before.

Dad, why did you want me to listen to this conversation? I do not understand what you want me to be a witness of.

Son, you do not understand now, but someday you will. All I am asking of you is to remember this day. God forbid the day that you have to recall this day! Junior, it is time for bed. Brush your teeth, wash your face, and get ready for bed. I’ll be upstairs to tuck you in and say our prayers.

I did what I was told. I tried not to doze off, waiting for Dad, but he took too long to arrive, so I fell asleep.

I thought I could hear his voice whispering in my ear, I’ll call you while I am on vacation.

I must have been dreaming. My eyes opened, and I caught a glimpse of dad, closing the bedroom door.

The next morning, I was up before the rooster crowed as Grandfather would always describe me. He was an early riser as well. Grandpa had his morning routine, reading the newspaper, and I usually sat and watched the sunrise. He said it was better to be well-prepared for the opening of the stock market instead of being caught by the seat of one’s pants. Grandmother did the same mundane things every morning, like planning functions or shopping.

Grandpa Joe was a man who liked order. You did not just walk into his study unannounced. My father liked to say that my grandfather was in no man’s land when he was in his studies. There were rules that everyone must follow, and you always had to make it known in advance that you wanted to speak to Grandfather before entering. It was hard for me to comply with this one rule that was strictly enforced. I was the only one who was able to enter into the study with him, but once 9 am rolled around, I had enough sense to leave, unlike my cousins who faced Grandpa’s wrath.

My grandfather spent most of his time in his study, discussing with others how they were going to turn a diamond in the rough into the First Lady of the United States. It was some time before I understood what he meant by diamond in the rough; he was referring to Jacqueline Bouvier. How does a diamond in the rough become the First Lady?

WHEN MY FATHER RETURNED, he was told that I had to become acquainted with my stepmother. My parents decided that I should call my father’s new wife, Jacqueline.

He said that there would be no disputing who was who. Jacqueline was someone I must respect and be courteous to.

Like all kids, I came up with my own name for her. It was one sunny day. I’ll never forget.

My parents and I were driving down a country road in a ‘57 T-Bird with the top down. My father was to the left of me, my mother to the right, and me in the middle. They were both wearing sunglasses as Dad drove down the highway. I could see the sunlight dancing off their hair. The wind was blowing my mother’s hair out from under her scarf. There were cornfields on each side of the two-lane highway, and there we were, going about 60 miles an hour. Just us, without a care in the world.

As I was sitting there, I could see where the corn met the sky. It was as if someone had taken a picture and joined the sky, corn, and the road and us together. The car started to slow; we were coming to a fork in the roadway, and then we came to a full stop. As he began to speed up again, I looked over.

There was this thing hanging in the field, and I screamed, Stop!

I startled my parents. What is it, Junior? What is it?

Stop–go back. I want to see what that thing is hanging in the field.

My father backed up the car and stopped.

I asked my parents, What is that? Dad, what is that? That!

We got out of the car to see this thing hanging on a stick.

I could see it was a doll the size of a person hanging there. It had cold, dark eyes; hair all mangled. Looking as if it needed a good night’s sleep.

What is it?

My father said, It is called a scarecrow.

No, I replied. It looks like Jacqueline when she gets out of bed in the morning. My parents laughed.

I said, No, it’s true. That is precisely the way she looks.

Mother educated me by saying, Son, it’s okay to think that, but it’s not okay to say it. So never call her a scarecrow, please.

My father said it was time for us to get on our way. As we turned to walk back to the car, he took my mother’s and my hands. I was on the left of him, my mother on the right. There it was again; that picture of the road meeting the blue sky and corn rising to meet it. All became one before my eyes. That feeling that my mother, father, and I were one. One of those days that would stay attached in my memory. When a boy becomes who he is with his mom and dad is when life becomes real.

MY STEPMOTHER AND MY relationship started out polite enough. I did not know exactly how I was to treat her. There was nothing complex about her. She rarely had anything interesting to say or add to a conversation. The only thing my grandmother would say is that this woman would take some work. I didn’t understand what my grandmother meant by that. Except that Jacqueline was not the person she made herself out to be. I guess what my grandmother was saying is my grandfather did not do his homework when it came to Jacqueline.

Jacqueline was a late riser, which annoyed my grandfather tremendously. My dad didn’t seem to care what time of day Jacqueline was around. Grandfather, on the other hand, was upset continuously with my grandmother because Jacqueline was the last one to rise in the household. Grandpa wanted every family member at the breakfast table at the same time. He said it made for a pleasant family unity leading to a more productive day. At breakfast, Grandfather quarreled with my grandmother about how she was going to fix the problem. He became so bothered with Jacqueline’s late rising, that he asked me, What makes you rise so early in the morning? I did not quite understand his concern.

Grandpa, there is always something new to see, hear, and learn, and I want to see it all and learn what I can. I’m also afraid that I will miss something, but what I cannot tell you, Grandfather.

Right in the middle of breakfast, Grandpa said, I have had enough of this, Rose. You have to do something about Jacqueline’s sleeping habits.

My father laughed and said, You mean her laziness. That is a job in itself!

My grandfather had these rules: anyone not up by 6:30 in the morning could not accomplish anything throughout the day. He made it clear that Jacqueline was to be out of bed by 7 AM every day, including Sunday. This is where my stepmother and I started to have our differences.

The next morning, Jacqueline, my grandmother, and I were having a late lunch or, as Jacqueline would call it, brunch. Grandmother told Jacqueline that she did not understand how a small child like Jack could get out of bed at 6 AM and why she slept the morning away.

Jacqueline, you have an obligation to the Kennedy family to start getting up at 7 AM. You are not keeping up with your part of the arrangement. Your sleeping late will no longer be tolerated in this household or any other. You are not here for your charm or your intellect; you are here to help us accomplish our goal for which you have been well-paid.

Jacqueline glared over at me and then back at my grandmother and replied, Whatever does Jack have to do with me getting up early?

The tone of her voice changed. I could see she was upset, but why with me? The tension at the table that afternoon was different. I could feel my stepmother was not pleased with me for what my grandmother had just explained to her. How was this conversation going to affect me? As Jacqueline was speaking to my grandma, she was looking in my direction. Why me? Her whole demeanor had changed.

I calmly requested, May I be excused from the table? before the conversation ended. As I walked away, I overheard Jacqueline say that there were too many rules in this house. I recall thinking the same thing. Wait until she figures out that not everyone has to play by them.

My mother would always say, when it comes to the Kennedy house, you play by the rules when they are looking at you. However, you do what you want when you are alone.

Son, that does not mean there will be no repercussions. All I am saying is think before acting. Father, on the other hand, does not want you to get caught when you have broken the rules. You will not be scolded for the rules that you break. It is the blunder that you make breaking the rules that you are reprimanded for.

From that day on, my stepmother’s attitude towards me changed. We had this sort of love-hate relationship. Some mornings when we woke up, we would argue and fight. Mother always said that I should be careful because someday we may have to pay for this.

Your stepmother is too vindictive. She is the kind of person that will bite off her nose to spite her face. Son, it is wiser for you to be polite and kind than salty. That does not mean that you do everything she asks you to. All I’m saying is to be careful. Your father always tried to get along with your stepmother. It doesn’t work all the time; at best, the situation does not escalate at least. Learn from him.

I always tried to do what my parents asked of me. On this one particular morning, my stepmother and I both woke up irritated. Her in one part of the house and me in the other, trying to avoid any interaction. We had managed to maintain our distance the entire morning. By the afternoon, the stalemate had ended, we exchanged words, and it seemed I got the better of her. She grabbed me and backhanded me right across my face. Each time she struck me, I caught her forefingers in between my teeth. She kept slapping me, and the more she hit, the longer I bit down on her fingers.

There was blood coming out of her fingers, but I would not let go. I remember thinking, I’m going to teach her who she can hit and who she can’t.

She began to scream, Rose! and the housekeeper ran into the room!

Grandmother Rose Kennedy started screaming, Stop you two. Stop!

I would not let go, and Jacqueline started screaming louder and louder to let go, let go. I still did not let go; I was biting down on her fingers as hard as I could. I wanted her to remember to keep her hands to herself.

The housekeeper screamed, Stop, Jack, stop, as she pinched my nose in the hope that I would let go.

I knew I would have to take a breath sometime, so I decided it was time to let go. The housekeeper and Grandmother were still in a state of panic.

They simultaneously said, Do you know what Jack Sr. is going to do to you? Do you have any idea, Jacqueline? You have just broken one of his Cardinal rules!

You do not put your hands on his son, Grandmother raised her voice at Jacqueline. When you have to explain what happened, stay clear of Jack Senior, and hope for the best! I would like to know just what the hell you were thinking. Jackie, I hope you learned when you do something to Little Jack, he is going to make you pay triple. Go! Attend to your fingers; they are bleeding. Thank God Junior has rosy red cheeks. The redness will be gone by the time his father gets here. He’ll never know the difference. But Jackie, never put your hands on him again!

Later that afternoon, my grandmother called my father to inform him of what had happened. I heard one side of the conversation.

Your son is raising hell. I want you to do something about his attitude. I am not going to tolerate this type of behavior. I had enough refereeing my own children. I’m not going to referee my grandchildren. Have I made myself clear?

I snuck away as not to upset her more. I did not want her to know that I had overheard her conversation with my father.

The moment my grandmother hung up the phone, she sent for me. When the housekeeper finally found me, I was outside on the beach.

I have been looking all over for you. You know you’re not supposed to come out here alone. Your grandmother wants to see you.

I walked back up to the house. There she was, standing on the porch waiting for me.

What is it you want, Grandmother?

I just got off the phone with your father. He said he would be here this weekend.

About three hours later, my mother called me. Sugar, are you okay?

Yes.

Jack, I want to know all the details on what had transpired this afternoon.

This is my mother being firm. She was not going to ask the same question twice. I explained what went on between Jackie and me.

Mother, being the peacemaker that she is, said that I should try to understand Jackie and not quarrel with her.

Sugar, it’s not healthy for you to lose your temper. You have to keep in mind what the doctors told you. Try to stay calm. However, I am happy to know that you are fine. Have you spoken to your father today?

No, I have not! My grandmother let me know he’ll be coming to see me this weekend.

When my mother called me Sugar, I always felt special. It was the sweetness and the kindness that was coming out of her spirit; it came right from her soul. She made me feel as if I was the most important person in her life. It always made me stop in my tracks and listen to what she had to say. My whole world would stop just to hear my mother call me Sugar. It took the sting out of Jacqueline brutalizing me.

I saw Jacqueline later that evening. Her hand was bandaged; she looked as if she was still in pain. I did not feel sorry for what happened, and I felt the feeling was mutual.

FATHER WOULD EITHER ARRIVE at my grandparents’ house late Friday night or early Saturday morning. I don’t know when he came home. When I made my entrance downstairs the next morning, my grandfather was having his first cup of coffee in the living room. He shared with me his good morning, but not much else.

It is understandable that you are upset with me. I have disappointed you, Grandpa.

I knew that I would have to be responsible for my actions.

Grandfather, I’ll try to refrain myself next time someone irritates me.

Jack, what are the odds you’re going to keep your temper under wraps? Your father is going to have to deal with your anger issues.

Saturday morning breakfast was solemn. The one negative comment was when dad laid out his morning itinerary. There was only one item on it that he would be taking me for my morning exercise.

After breakfast, Dad and I went for a stroll along the beach.

Son, there are always two sides to a story. I want to know why you bit Jacqueline. It’s not like you to harm someone.

Dad, it just happened.

Son, this type of behavior doesn’t just happen. You not telling the truth is not helping the matter.

I really did not know how to explain what took place. Dad somehow sensed that I was lost for an answer and told me to take my time and think about what exactly happened.

We walked a little further, and he said, Son, I am waiting for an answer.

Dad, I was doing what I usually do, but that day I was feeling irritable. I was going up the stairs, and Jacqueline was coming out of her bedroom. I could see she was not in a particularly good mood, so I tried to get out of her way. Jacqueline ran into me deliberately. She did not say, ‘Excuse me’ or ‘sorry.’ So I got upset, and I kicked her in the shin. She grabbed me and started to slap me. So, as she was hitting me, her fingers came across my face, and I bit down on them as hard as I could and would not let go. Of course, I did not like being slapped. I just couldn’t let her get away with it.

I looked up at my father. I am not going to say I’m sorry. I feel as if we were both at fault.

Junior, I am not looking for whose fault it was. I am trying to find out what happened. I am going to talk to Jacqueline to see what happened and to stop this from happening again.

That evening after dinner, my father called Jacqueline and me into the living room to hear both versions of the day’s event. Jacqueline had said that I was disrespectful and did not say, Excuse me.

My father turned to me and said, Junior, don’t say a word.

He turned to Jacqueline. Okay, you say he was disrespectful as you describe it to me. Why did you have to hit him? Did you run into Jack as he claimed at the top of the stairs?

I may have bumped into him, but that was all.

Did you say, ‘Excuse me’ or ‘I’m sorry?’

No! He is a child.

"Yes! Jack is my child, and I want him to grow up to be courteous and respectful of his elders. That’s how you end up with adults who respect one another.

I do not want this to escalate into an argument. Jacqueline, you should have said ‘excuse me,’ ‘I beg your pardon,’ or ‘sorry.’ That way, we could have avoided all this disruption. I hope you understand you are not to put your hands on my son again. I do not care what he has done. Do I make myself clear?

"John, Jack doesn’t look like he’s suffering. He was biting me. Just look at the way my fingers look. They are still hurting and throbbing; he would not let go."

You put your hands on him. Jacqueline, I do not think you quite understand what you did. Jack is not the kind of child that will forget this. He will find a way to get back at you. He will tell you not to do something once, maybe twice, but there will not be a third time. If you choose not to listen to my advice, the consequence will be on you.

As my father was speaking to both of us, Jacqueline was becoming upset. I was beginning to see a side of her that I did not know she had.

Junior, you are going to have to find a way to control your temper. You have to consider the consequences of your actions. I am not going to punish you this time, but if there is a next time, you will be scolded.

Just as my father was saying that I could see Jacqueline turning red. She was upset to no end.

Are you going to let him get away with biting me? You and your damn son are not going to treat me this way!

She was irate and out of control. She threw herself on the floor and started rolling around and pulling her hair out. My father and I were stunned; we did not know what to do! It looked as if she was going into a convulsion. There were globs of Jacqueline’s hair all over the place. It took her ten minutes to finally calm down. My father was still in a state of shock and did not continue the conversation.

Jacqueline, we will have to continue this conversation in the morning. I’ll not have you hitting my son. Marilyn and I never hit Jack; that was not our kind of parenting, and it will not be yours and mine.

The next morning, my father, Jacqueline, and I were having breakfast. My father began laying out the rules on what he expected from my stepmother.

I do not expect that you will hit my child again. Jacqueline, if you put your hands on him again, he’ll do anything he can to defend himself. He will not stand idly by and let you hit him.

Yes, but I am your wife, let us not forget that.

That does not give you the right to hit my child or any child for that matter! If Jack needs mothering, nurturing, and discipline, he has his mother, Marilyn and me, do you understand me?

LATER ON THAT DAY, my father made plans to take me on a trip. The trip had something to do with how people lived. I did not understand what he meant by that. This trip was to be an eye-opener and a learning experience for me.

Son, there is a whole world out there that you know nothing about. The only way for you to appreciate anything you work for or are given is to take this trip. I want you to experience what life is truly about.

I could not help thinking, This is not going to be a trip of pleasure. This trip is going to be a question-and-answer experience. Why didn’t my father just become a teacher and not a senator? That would make things a lot easier.

I would be ready. Just knowing this trip was going to be an educational experiment was too much for one son to handle. Why does my dad have to do this to me? I guess this is his way of teaching me. But why! Why doesn’t he just tell me where we are going and what he expects me to learn?

My father called my mother to let her know that we would be gone for two to three weeks, depending on how the weather holds up, and if I get sick or not. I still did not know where we were going. The only sign that we were going on a trip was our luggage placed on top of the vehicle. It had been tied down so that it would not fall off the top of the car. I have seen other people with their luggage on top of the vehicle, this was the first time for us.

As I was getting into the car, I noticed that there was enough room for more people. The car, to my surprise, was a station wagon. There were maps on the front seat and a picnic basket in the back. As we were driving off, my father began to explain that we were going on a road trip. "Son, I wanted you to see the country from a new perspective. It is not the road behind us but the road ahead of us. What you are willing to do for others and not expect anything in return.

Attending church on Sunday is not enough; you have to meet the people that you are trying to help. When you are putting out money, you have to find out where it’s going. You have to participate and make sure that we care for one another. I do not mean that you just care about your family, but others as well. These are people who struggle every day doing the best that they can. It seems as if they are standing stagnant in poverty, and no one cares. Sometimes it is the very people we deal with that do not let you prosper. It has nothing to do with where you come from but everything to do with what you are willing to do for others, without the expectations of being compensated for your efforts!

I sat listening inattentively as we were going down the highway. I could feel the wind rolling through my hair, the warm breeze across my face as the sun was hitting it. I felt as if my father and I were becoming one with the universe. It was a feeling of one becoming one with nature.

In an instant, my father looked over at me, his son. Are you listening to what I am saying?

In a soft voice, I said, Yes, I am listening to you. Would you like me to report back to you what you just said?

No.

I was listening to what my dad was saying, also hearing what nature had to say as well. It is not that I was tuned out. I guess I was tuned in to all of my surroundings. It is how I process information. Here’s my father, here am I, we are together as father and son in nature.

By this time, we had already driven through the New England states. The night was falling. My father pulled into a hotel parking lot and checked us into a hotel. It was a small hotel with dinner. We had a shower and changed for dinner.

After dinner, my father read me the newspaper. That was one of his rules. Either he would read me the paper, or I read it myself. The world was our neighborhood, and the newspaper helped us stay in touch with them.

Reading a neighborhood newspaper helps me to make the right decisions in the Senate. Reading a big city newspaper enables us to keep in touch with the world. Knowing what’s going on when we travel allows people to understand we are concerned about their everyday problems.

He finished reading the newspaper and said, It’s time for bed. He laid out my pajamas on the bed for me. Once I was in bed, he whispered in my ear. Son, think good thoughts, and have pleasant dreams. Tomorrow is going to be a learning experience.

We were up at about 5 am the next morning. To watch the sunrise over the trees was a magnificent sight. To see the rainbow of colors bursting through the trees as if this sight were just for us. Here we were, my father and I, witnessing the start of the day. I often asked my dad if God created this day and experience just for us. Son, we share in this world, and it is designed for all mankind, not just us.

As we were driving away, I turned to look back at the beautiful colors that were coming through the trees; the reds, blues, yellows, and oranges.

"Jack, we are going to travel through the south of the country. We are going to drive straight through Washington D.C. on to West Virginia and down to Florida. You are going to see things you have never seen before. We are going to learn how we can become better citizens in this great country of ours. I want you to learn how to better serve your community. If there is one thing that I have mastered in the Navy is that our country is one community.

The people that you are going to meet are not as fortunate as we are. We should make sure that all our citizens are treated equally. You and I are going to find out just what is needed to help every citizen succeed. We are in the land of plenty, but not everyone has everything.

We drove through Washington, D.C., on our way to the South. The driver turned off the main highway and let my father drive on another hour. From the road, you could see kids playing in the front yards of their homes. He would stop and get out of the car to talk to anyone willing to speak to him.

I recall two people sitting on their front porch looking at us as if we did not belong there. I watched as we walked by, someone said to my father, What is a Yankee like you doing here?

I want my son to learn what America is all about. We cannot become better people without knowing who we are as a nation. The look on the gentleman’s face changed. It seemed to become more relaxed.

We do not have many of your kind passing through here.

What kind are you referring to?

This place is a place that people try to get away from.

"I am here for my son and my job. To learn just what is needed to make a small town like this a place to return to.

What do you mean when you say you’re supposed to? May I call you, Sir?

Yes, that is how it’s done around here.

I am a Senator from Massachusetts; my name is John F. Kennedy. And I plan to run for president of the United States. I would like to know what I can do to help all the citizens of our country. I am traveling with my son John Junior so that he’ll know what we’re working for.

I could see the man that my father was conversing with was quite impressed.

He said to my father, You look like a young man who cares for his family and his son, and fellow human beings. You do not speak like the typical politician, nor do you strike me as one. Most politicians think we are too far out of the way to visit us. But here you are sitting with your son taking the time to explain to me what your future plans are for the nation. If that is not the end-all to be all. You do seem genuine.

My father