just follow the cat

Day 4 - this place is too small

August 4, 10:24AM

Dealey Plaza, Dallas, Texas

"I almost came here that day." That's what the old man said to me. He was a little stooped and a lot gray and he was sitting outside the Texas Book Depository building. I figure that he must deliver that same line a dozen times a day to anyone patient enough to listen to him. His voice was soft and I might have forgotten the encounter altogether if he hadn't used the word "almost." That's what really stuck with me. At first, it just seemed strange for anyone to claim a piece of "almost" history. I mean he didn't say that he had been here that day only that he had "almost" come here.

I wondered how many people would have been that honest. Most of them probably would have lied and said that they were actually here that awful November day. And if you ever come to this place, you'll know that's a lie because Dealey Plaza is far too small to hold all the liars who are still out there.

I looked up and down the small street and then over toward the famous overpass. Finally, I stared up at the Book Depository building. To the 6th Floor. I couldn't recall which window it was. Second from the right, I think. But honestly, I couldn't remember. Even though we forget things all the time in our lives, it seemed impossible to have forgotten any detail of the assassination. Not the rifle or the manufacturer or the excuse or the umbrella, the hallway or the hat. And definitely not the first shot, the second, the third, and maybe even a fourth.

I don't think anything will ever surprise me in the same way as hearing the news that day. I was only a kid, but never before had both my parents cried at the same time. Since then, I've wanted to come here and see if it felt any different than other places. Strangely, it does. The first thing I noticed was how quiet it is. Despite all the city noises, it's quiet like the buildings are somehow swallowing the sounds to give the visitors a chance to reflect on the horribleness of life.

Also, the grassy knoll is nothing. No one could have been shooting from there. It just doesn't make sense when you see it.

After a few minutes of trying (and then failing to understand why some things happen), I walked into the Depository. No books are stored here anymore. It's just a museum now. At the entrance, I saw a young woman selling tickets. She looked at my face and must have realized that I was old enough to remember that day. She smiled at me and said, "I wasn't born yet." Then she pointed outside and asked if I met Mr. Wilson – the man who "almost came here that day." She wasn't saying it sarcastically. Or at least I don't think so. I think she was just trying to be helpful.

Anyway, I shook my head and left. It didn't seem right to make a museum about this place. Before leaving, I walked down the street to the overpass and then turned around. It was sunny just like that day in November. The cars came out of the sunshine like ghosts. Time never seems to move here. I sat on the curb and cried.

This place is too small.

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