That Never Happened (Storytelling and Memory)

What people misremembered about John F. Kennedy and what it teaches us about memory and leadership.

(Disclaimer: this is not a political piece or commentary about today’s political environment)

Ten years ago, I was building an Inspirational Leadership course and gathered my team in Boston for a day of “living in the world.” We toured the city and visited museums with one goal: to observe and notice. Everything became input in our exploration of what inspirational leadership looked like and whether it comes from a moment, an individual, or a skill.

The day ended at the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library. It’s a beautifully designed building with sweeping views of the water, framed by floor-to-ceiling windows. Like all presidential museums, its goal is to preserve the President’s legacy. But this one also serves as a time capsule of the 1960s, offering a window into a turbulent and complex era in the United States and the world.

The rooms trace Kennedy’s youth, campaigns, and presidency. Exhibits recount the race to the moon, the launch of the Peace Corps, White House renovations, state visits, and of course the tragedy of his assassination.

One sign made me stop. It followed a series of rooms describing Kennedy’s challenges with the Civil Rights Movement, the space race, the nuclear arms race, Cold War Tensions, and economic pressures. The sign explained how he addressed them by launching new programs, legislative remedies, national conversations, and a call to public service. It ended with this:

“By June of 1963, two and a half years after he won office by a popular vote of 49.7%, polls showed that 59% of the American public claimed to have voted for JFK.”

From the JFK Presidential Library.

At first, I assumed people changed their answers to fit in with popular sentiment. But as I dug deeper, I realized many truly believed they voted for him when they hadn’t. How could so many people remember their own actions differently? Kennedy’s legacy is complicated by his assassination, but this poll was taken while he was still alive.

That sign has stuck with me for over a decade. What makes people shift their thinking and memories so profoundly?

Memories Are Copies

Psychologist Elizabeth Loftus provides one explanation. Loftus has spent decades studying memory and recall. Her research shows that remembering isn’t like our brain opening a filing cabinet of memories and pulling out a pristine record.

Instead, each act of remembering reconsolidates the memory. It’s like opening a file, making a copy, integrating new information, and refiling it. Just as the marks and smudges of a photocopy differentiate it from the original, this process subtly changes memory.

Multiple “copies” of a memory can exist depending on age and the neurons involved. Older memories are harder to modify—reactivating dormant areas is more difficult.

This helps explain Kennedy’s poll numbers. Many Americans weren’t deliberately lying; they believed they voted for him. Their memories were reshaped by the context of his presidency. As he gained their trust, their memories aligned their past with their present feelings, creating a new “truth” about their actions.

Cognitive Dissonance of Identity

Psychologist Leon Festinger’s theory of cognitive dissonance adds another layer of explanation. When our beliefs and actions don’t align, we subconsciously adjust one to reduce discomfort.

Kennedy barely won the election, leaving many doubtful. As skeptics came around to his leadership, they faced a gap: they hadn’t supported him, yet now they respected him. The simplest resolution was to rewrite their memory. They came to believe they had voted for him, adjusting their personal history to match their current admiration.

Success Has 100 Parents

It may seem implausible that people would rewrite their memories, but I’ve seen versions of this play out at work. I was brought onto a project that had gone sideways with the directive: fix it. It was high-profile and had more skeptics than supporters. Many wanted it shut down. I found a path forward and delivered the outcomes they wanted.

The skeptics not only claimed they had always supported the project, but they also genuinely believed they played a role in creating its success.

When people can’t see what is possible (or how to get there), they’re skeptical. But as they begin to connect with what could happen and see themselves in that vision, their protests fade, and their memory quietly rewrites their stance.

Kennedy’s Storytelling and Communication

Kennedy’s stories and communications were examples of this in action. His speeches and addresses didn’t just inspire support; they reshaped how people placed themselves in history. His vision of America compelled many people to rewrite their own past to align with it.

Kennedy didn’t speak to isolated policies. He told stories that gave people a role to play.

In his inaugural address, he framed citizenship as a collective narrative:

“Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.”

At Rice University, he didn’t describe the technical hurdles of space exploration. He cast the moonshot as a test of national courage.

“We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too.”

When stories resonate deeply, they get repeated. That’s why we use phrases like “moonshot.” People didn’t just hear Kennedy’s words, they saw themselves in them. That’s how storytelling builds trust: through clarity, resonance, and an invitation to belong.

Lessons for Leaders

This isn’t about manipulating people or rewriting history. It’s about recognizing how much weight stories carry in shaping identity. Facts and data matter, but they rarely live in our memory on their own. What endures is how people feel about themselves inside the story you invite them into.

Today, leaders face a higher bar. They are competing against an excess of information and noise. In our fractured world, no single story can easily capture the collective imagination. To inspire, stories must be honest, clear, and inviting enough to let people see themselves in them.

That sign at the Kennedy Library is a reminder that leadership has always been about more than decisions and policies. It’s how they are framed, absorbed, and remembered. Sometimes memory is less about accuracy and more about belonging and connecting.

Inspirational leadership isn’t about making people believe in you, it’s about helping them believe in a bigger version of themselves.

Kennedy’s genius was not in rewriting history, but in inviting people into a vision so powerful that they wanted to align with it. Even if it meant reshaping their memory.

When you lead with vision, trust, and story, you don’t just shape outcomes, you shape identities. And that, perhaps, is the most inspiring form of leadership there is.