Last summer, I visited Dallas, TX for the NAA newspaper convention and the most memorable part of this convention (other than blogs, RSS, podcasting, etc), was a visit to Dealey Plaza where John Kennedy was shot in 1963. It’s one of the first memories I can recall and I’m still intrigued by this moment in history and the deep concern the mystery portrays in our collective psyche.
Over the past few days, a couple of media resources have brought the JFK assassination back into the social conscious and both are interesting.
The first is another experiment of the legendary Zapruder film. I’m not one to accept any new allegation as truth, but enjoy the argument, controversy and evidence some people suggest. Be sure to visit this website that demonstrates some of the puzzles in the frame by frame analysis of this film. The authors research every pixel of each frame and cast questions about light, shows, angles and other goofs made by ‘forgers’ and it’s interesting work.
[CLICK FOR LINKS AND IMAGES]
In another more significant news story, the BBC has a report this evening about a new documentary, featuring that suggest, “the death of John F Kennedy was directed and paid by Cuba.” Not that this is anything new, but there are some equally new history-altering perspectives that this new film proposes.
Digging deeper, the title…’Rendezvous with Death,’ a Google search reveals this is one of John Kennedy’s favorite poems by Alan Seeger.
“‘I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple blossoms fill the air-
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.
It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land,
And close my eyes and quench my breath-
It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow flowers appear.
God knows ’twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where Love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear . . .
But I’ve a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town,
When Spring trips north again this year;
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous.’”