It’s Personal: Childhood Memories of John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts

When you grow up eight miles from the White House and roughly six miles from the famed Kennedy Center, things can tend to get personal when cretins screw with cherished childhood memories.

In my Other Worldly novels, I’ve actually included the desecration of the rose garden in the first four years of a crook and a hooker occupying the White House, the grounds of which have been further desecrated for absolute juvenile idiocy yesterday and today. Here’s hoping for that tornado amidst thunder and lightning…

But for this blog post, I want to address something positive in this swamp of twisted tyranny—ironically what the Reflecting Pool unfortunately currently resembles. Because as of early morning yesterday, the Commander of Corruption’s name was finally removed from the face of the Kennedy Center, though that ridiculous tarp is still covering the wall.

Talk about juvenile idiocy, as well as proof that if there’s one thing this administration will always engage in, it’s a blatant coverup of their nefarious activities. That and trying to assuage a most delicate and pathetic man-baby tantrum-throwing ego.

First, I must point out that we owe our appreciation for justice served to Congresswoman Joyce Beatty. Because she is the trustee who sued and won after the unlawful renaming of the Kennedy Center. We have her to thank for the joy of having this amazing place for the performing arts returned to its honorable status.

A bit of history before I delve into childhood nostalgia. Following the assassination of President Kennedy in 1963, Congress passed an act officially designating the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts as a living memorial to the late president on January 23, 1964.

Ponder that. What kind of disgusting excuse for a human being, much less a president, would want to put their name over that of a beloved president shot down in his prime and revered ever since? Who would need to do that? A much despised narcissistic sociopath would.

I was ten years old when the Kennedy Center officially opened on September 8, 1971. The brand new red carpet that covered its main hall left tiny scarlet wisps of the textile clinging to my black patent leather shoes. There were actual crystal chandeliers in the restrooms, which unfortunately didn’t last long due to theft.

That December I got to see Don McLean perform his iconic folk-ballad, “American Pie,” at the Kennedy Center with my big sister and her best friend and big sister. Quite an experience for a kid, and one I’ve never forgotten. I recall being so excited to be sitting in a balcony as McLean played his guitar on stage. My very first concert.

Also in 1971, the Washington National Opera first performed The Magic Flute at the Kennedy Center, which I attended with my parents (hence the red fuzz on my shiny shoes). Not only was it my first opera, but a family friend named Robert Hale performed in the starring role, so I can proudly say I have been inside the star’s dressing room at the Kennedy Center. And yes, the door did have a star with the word “star” on it.

Five years later on May 4, 1976 (per the photo accompanying this post), I was lucky to attend the international preview of the children’s fantasy film, The Blue Bird, at the Eisenhower Theatre of the Kennedy Center. I got to see one of its stars, Elizabeth Taylor in person, though it was a bummer she didn’t sign autographs and that neither Ava Gardner nor Jane Fonda were there.

Funny thing, the child actor starring in this film, Todd Lookinland, was the younger brother of Mike Lookinland, who played the youngest son Bobby on an iconic seventies show beloved from my childhood, The Brady Bunch. As for the autographs appearing on my framed program from The Blue Bird, you might remember Will Geer as the grandpa on The Waltons, another memorable show enjoyed as a kid.

But the most cherished autograph ever acquired came from none other than Cicely Tyson that day, who played the Cat in The Blue Bird. As a 15-year-old, I had so much awe and respect for this tiny woman who had starred in The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman two years prior in 1974. A highly acclaimed television film that had a profound impact on me that lingers to this day.

Just as the Kennedy Center itself did.  Now we need to fix that rose garden, returning it to glory—as opposed to garishness—among  many other iconic things in our nation. Oh and may it rain and hail a lightning storm in DC tonight.