Readers | Nov. 22, 2013 | Notre Dame Magazine
I was a junior at ND in the fall of 1963, living in Lyons Hall above the arch. Friday, November 22 was a typical overcast day. I was in my room after lunch with the window open preparing for my Shakespeare class at 3:00 p.m. We were playing at Iowa the next day and the campus was pretty quiet. A neighbor had his transistor radio on and I thought I heard something about the president being shot. I wandered out into the hallway and looked around and pretty soon there were a bunch of us talking about reports from Dallas that the President had been shot and was in critical condition. We were wondering about classes being cancelled but had heard nothing yet.