News sure was grim yesterday. Malignant brain tumor. Few thoughts were left unexpressed by colleagues and friends: Ted’s a fighter; Ted’s the most influential and effective Senator in history; Ted has an enormous capacity for personal generosity; Ted’s story is America’s story. Some, like Senator Byrd, who openly wept on the Senate floor, showed heartbreak, while others aimed for hope (Senator Dodd: “I wouldn’t want to be the tumor.”)
Columnists mainly tried to encapsulate the Kennedy legacy, a daunting task for writers who had expected to be writing about Obama’s continued “working class” troubles or Clinton’s evolving math. Many fell back on cliches, stories of bipartisanship, the “good ole’ days” of the Senate, the Kennedy “footprint” on every major piece of legislation, the “liberal lion” to his colleagues. A few seemed to strike the right chord. Mike Barnicle, a longtime Kennedy friend and ally began his column:“It seems as if he’s been with us always, his history, ours; his voice, his views taken for granted like some permanent landmark that would forever be part of life’s landscape” (the entire column is worth reading).
As for myself, I couldn’t add much in the way of insight or personal stories. I was born in ‘79 – as Kennedy fought Carter for the Democratic nomination and years after John or Robert or Chappaquiddick. Reading Adam Clymer’s biography of Kennedy was one of my introductions to politics, but by that point, Kennedy’s legacy had been pretty well cemented. I wasn’t along for the ride – just a late-coming observer and admirer. But that doesn’t make the thought of the Senate without Ted Kennedy any less jarring for me. And, while its admittedly grim, I can’t even fathom the idea of a Kennedy funeral in which Ted wouldn’t be there to comfort the family.
I remember C-Span once re-running footage of the 1964 Democratic Convention in Atlantic City, held only months after the death of John Kennedy. Following a tribute to the late President, Robert Kennedy walked up to the podium to an eruption of applause and emotion from those in attendance. For 22 minutes, Kennedy fought off tears as the ovation continued. Throughout those minutes, he kept trying to begin — “Mr. Speaker,” — but each time the applause swelled and his emotions got the better of him. I remember it as being one of the most poignant moments of political history I’ve ever seen.
This year’s Democratic Convention will be held in Denver from August 25 through August 28th. I can’t even begin to imagine…
