Today, Toni Moore, 61, is the media specialist in the Office of Public Affairs and Marketing at UT Health Northeast

“It seemed the whole world changed that Friday,” Toni Moore, 61, said.

“To have the president assassinated and to have it happen in Texas was just unbelievable,” the media specialist in the Office of Public Affairs and Marketing at UT Health Northeast, said.

“When they first heard about it, most people were stunned; they couldn’t take it in. I was in sixth grade at Wooldridge Elementary School in Austin. I was writing a story for our class newspaper about President Kennedy’s visit, because he was coming to Austin later that day. He was to give a speech at a fundraiser and dinner-dance that evening. In my class that morning, everyone was excited that the president was coming.

“I was really excited because my parents had tickets to the fundraiser for the Texas Democratic Party. My father, Joe G. Moore Jr., was an aide to Gov. (John) Connally, though my father hadn’t gone to Dallas with the governor.

“In the early afternoon, all the students were called into the auditorium. There was a small black-and-white TV on a stand in front, broadcasting live news bulletins about the assassination and playing solemn music in between. Someone, probably the principal, told us what had happened and that we would be dismissed to go home. I think some of the teachers were crying and teary-eyed. I don’t recall if I cried then or not. I remember my mother coming to pick me up and take me home. It all seemed unreal.

“The saddest memory I have of that day is when my father came home. I was watching the news on television in our small living room and waiting for him. He opened the door, looked across the room at me, and we both started crying. I ran over and hugged him. It was the first time I had seen my father cry. I know my dad feared that Gov. Connally, who was seriously wounded, would die.”

Her parents kept their fundraiser tickets.

“The tickets are printed in black on semi-gloss gold, heavy-stock paper. The ticket stubs are still attached, as they were never used,” she said. “It always makes me sad when I turn the page in that particular photo album and see them.”

Kennedy’s death had a lasting impression on her life for years.

“That was one of the worst days of my life. It felt like I had been thrust from a happy, idyllic existence into a very cruel, unpredictable and dangerous world. It marked the end of my childhood, and I despised Dallas for a long time,” she said.

“For at least the next 10 years, when our family traveled outside the state, some people would bring up President Kennedy’s assassination because we were from Texas.

“For decades after, I remembered the events of that day each Nov. 22,” Ms. Moore said. “In the past 20 years I haven’t thought of it as much, until this year. I registered and was lucky enough to receive one of the 5,000 or so tickets for the general public to the City of Dallas’ official remembrance on Friday, Nov. 22. However, because of an ankle injury, I can’t stand for long periods, so I let the organizers know I wouldn’t be able to attend. Somehow, though, I felt that even getting one of the tickets to the ceremony was a way of remembering that day and honoring President Kennedy’s memory.”