An 8-Year-Old’s Perspective on the Assassination Attempt of Ronald Reagan

The day I met politics for the first time — and the world got smaller and bigger at the same time.

Through Young Eyes

I was an 8-year-old child when the world suddenly became bigger and smaller at the same time. I wasn’t used to seeing my mother’s face with that expression, those tears. All of the adults were talking all at once in the whole world. People were screaming on the TV. People running. A bloody elbow. Black cars.

I am sure I asked my Mother what was happening. I am not sure if she told me. But somehow I knew, some bad person had shot Mister Reagan. Our President. Everybody’s President. And he was a good person, Mister Reagan.

People loved him. Why would anybody shoot him? Why would anybody shoot anybody?

The crowds on our black and white television were running in all directions. I saw Mister Reagan’s bloody elbow. In the memories I carry, his elbow had been shot out and there was lots of blood, but I know now that is not the way it happened. I recall him riding high in the back of an open-topped vehicle, waving, smiling, then clutching his elbow, blown to bits, and slumping down into the vehicle. I remember his wife crying. I remember blood.

I am not sure that is how any of it happened, only that I was there, in my living room floor at the age of 8 when I saw the event on TV and felt the horror of something awful happening in the world.

I am not sure I even knew at that age that awful things happened in the world. I did know that people loved President Reagan. His name was spoken with respect, admiration, and a sense of connection to a bigger thing, a thing bigger than people or homes or even whole towns.

My child’s mind could hardly contain it. The “bigness” of our President or the thought that anyone would shoot him.

I fully knew the love people had for our President at such a young age. In my mind, the President was like a celebrity and a preacher and a teacher and a firefighter all rolled into a suit. When he spoke, we listened. When he prayed, we prayed. We felt safe.

A World Changed

Things, in that regard, have changed. As a people, our reverence and love for our President is not what it once was. I don’t think I have felt truly safe since I was that age, although I can’t completely blame it on John Hinckley Jr., the man who shot Reagan. I am sure there were other factors.

My daughter came home from school recently and asked for permission to view footage of the Ronald Reagan assassination attempt, in a class at her school.

As you can see, my memories of the event are clearly not the way the event took place. I do not know why in my mind the event plays out so differently. But the affect on my world-view was just as impactful. I did permit my daughter to see the footage at her school and shared with her my experience.

I wish that I could go back to the day before the shooting, when the world was smaller, kinder, and my mother was smiling in the living room, maybe watching Ryan’s Hope, her favorite soap opera at the time. I think I’d play a little longer, breathe a little deeper, and believe a little longer in the kindness of people. I’d tell that little child that everything was going to be ok — even if it was a lie — so that she could feel safe and secure in this world for a little while longer.

This article is in response to the following writing prompt:

Christina Ward 💗 is a poet and nature writer who is trying her pen at new topics. if you enjoyed this article, stay tuned and follow Politically Speaking for more engaging political stories of the issues that plague our thoughts. All political affiliations are welcome.