Prince Of Camelot

When John Kennedy Jr. went missing two days before my 45h birthday, my Italian kicked in right away. Unlike the rest of America, I knew there was little hope. The Prince of Camelot was gone adding to the myth of a Kennedy curse. It’s that uncanny ability I’ve inherited from my Italian grandfather knowing sad truth before it’s actually proven.

I was also in bed with a guy I’ll call Lloyd when the infamous garment bag washed up on shore. As we were heave-hoing to the sound of CNN, unlike my lover who stopped in mid heave, I wasn’t surprised.

I got dressed, went home and wrote this poem I just found in an old Town & Country Magazine with his mother on the cover.

John

Every morning I walk through the Park, across the bridge…down the hill…and expect to see you.

I expect to see you dashing from 1040 on roller blades in your navy pinstriped suit, looking like your father when you practiced law and worked for the D.A.’s office downtown on Centre Street.

I expect to see your mother beaming beside you beneath the billowy green awning brushing away lint on your jacket sleeve. images-1

You open the door to her taxi waiting for it to leave…despite your skates.

I expect to pass you crossing Fifth in one of your funny hats turned backwards; riding a bike, or walking the dog you rescued and were fined fifty bucks for allowing to run free.

I expect to catch you at the newsstand on 85th and Mad perusing papers same as me…grinning, nodding in complicity while we wait to be told…this is not the Public Library.

Maybe later I’ll meet you coming home…your arms around a leggy girl who very soon you’ll marry and plan to grow old with…

But I expect, this just won’t be.  images-2

John Fitzgerald Kennedy Junior…November 25, 1960 – July 16, 1999  images

SB

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About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.
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10 Responses to Prince Of Camelot

  1. skinnyuz2b says:

    Susannah, I remember clearly. So sad.

    Like

    • You know Skinny, my short-term memory is so absent, yet I remember when that happened as if were a minute ago. It was so unbelievable to the whole world one more tragedy could actually befall that family. And he was such an ambassador of good will and to take two others with him…they felt like close relatives.

      The memorial service was at my old church…The Church of St. Thomas More, and the fence was filled with flowers, notes, pictures. His mother took them there, he and Caroline, when they were small. It’s tiny, like a country chapel. And I do still expect to him because unlike his sister, he wore his lineage easily and could be seen everywhere like any other guy floating around on his bike, or walking his dog.

      Like

  2. Jeanette Hamilton says:

    Beautiful tribute. The Prince of Camelot’s death still haunts me.

    Like

  3. katecrimmins says:

    I remember it well. I remember when they found the plane, I asked so naively, “was anyone alive?” Like that could be possible for such a fairytale life.

    Like

  4. micklively says:

    He was younger than me, yet he’s already been dead fifteen years. That can’t be right, can it?

    Like

  5. I remember coming home from a weekend at the mountains. We were cleaning out my father-in-law’s home and preparing to sell it. We had no TV or radio, so when I came someone mentioned what had happened and I was floored. I kept making the person repeat what they were saying. It’s still hard to believe it happened, let alone 15 years ago!

    Like

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