You know, I still remain mystified.
I myself didn't recall until about suppertime yesterday (Sunday) that it was November 22.
And there were no reminders of the anniversary in the newspapers, magazines, and (apparently) on television and radio. And one had to dig, really dig into Skins's island to find that the primitives themselves remembered, and those who did, well, there were damned few of them.
How fleeting, fame.
It's my theory, based upon 20th-century examples, that the 20th or 25th anniversary of something is the "big" one, and that the 40th anniversary is the "last hurrah," as those personally touched by a significant event die off.
After the 40th, it's all downhill from there.
Few know that the assassinaton of William McKinley in 1901 brought an outpouring of grief that surpassed that of the assassination of John Kennedy sixty-two years later--as preposterous as it might sound, it did, really--but who remembers that date these days?
How fleeting, fame.