How strange to feel them at this time. At this particular moment. All day long the tee vee machine has been playing, over and over these snippets from the late Senator’s life, little pieces of that life, as if on an endless loop.
Is there anyone who now does not know that Edward Moore Kennedy was the youngest of four brothers born to Joe and Rose Kennedy? That he was born on the exact 200th anniversary of the birthdate of George Washington? And that John F. Kennedy thought that his youngest brother should be named George Washington Kennedy?
We see the family portraits where he is barely six or seven years old, yet that famous Kennedy Smile, impish, beguiling; the arch of the eyebrow, even then establishing yet again the bloodline of America’s premier First Family. Here is the clip of young ‘Teddy’ cutting a ceremonial ribbon in Great Britain, failing at first, yet going at it again until the scissors sever the flimsy fabric; the triumphant smile illuminating his young face as if to proclaim, “I knew I could do it”!
A smile comes across my face.
We see him older, accompanying the funeral procession for his slain brother John. At one point, his arm wraps around Jaquelyn in solace and benevolence.
Now brother Robert is gone and he is addressing the Democratic National Convention in 1980, and even though his words are rousing and eloquent, Jimmy Carter wins the nomination only to be beaten by Ronald Reagan. One has to wonder if Teddy had been thinking to himself, “I could have beaten him (Reagan)”.
I find myself pondering that question myself.
At that point Teddy realized that chances of his becoming President were essentially nil; he threw himself into doing the work of representing his constituency, authoring, co-authoring or co-sponsoring more legislation than any other Senator to date.
Still, my eyes are dry.
Now he is the patriarch of the Kennedy dynasty. John Jr.’s plane has gone down off of Martha’s Vineyard. His young nephew has perished so close, and yet so far from the Kennedy compound, yet Teddy is in full crisis-management mode. He commands the situation. He knows the protocols, the formalities, the minutiae of such compelling moments in time. We are all calmed, reassured because Teddy is there.
I am awestruck by his composure.
Now the year Is 2008. There is Teddy, addressing the Democratic National Convention, yet again. And the words are strong, despite his being diagnosed with brain cancer scant months prior. “The torch has now been passed to a new generation…”. His passion undiminished for health care for every citizen as a right of citizenship, not just for the few, the rich, the privileged, those elected to high office. No. Everyone. Every Man. Every Woman. Every Child. As a Human right. As a right of all citizens of the most wealthy nation on earth.
As I watch this speech, I flash to the words of scripture, “…even these, the least of my brethren…”. The essence of Teddy’s noble quest. “There are those to whom much has been given. Of them much shall be required.” The Kennedy family has been given much. And they have given back. In the lives of Joe Jr. Shot down while in the service of his country. John and Robert, assassinated by zealots. Of the four brothers Kennedy only Teddy lived to have grey hair.
Only the infirmities of the flesh kept him from carrying his cause to it’s conclusion. His passion for and his dreams of affordable, accessible health care for all still inspire.
And now he is gone. At rest. At peace.
Yet, I sit in silence as yet another talking head praises his steady devotion to duty. One after another. A fellow Senator. A Historian, A pundit. They all take their turns.
I am not moved.
And then it happens. A camera catches Teddy’s boat, “Maya” at anchor. Her sails secured. Silent. Serene.
And my tears come up. And they well up and burst forth, as if from behind a dam torn asunder, rolling down my cheeks slowly at first, then pouring forth in a torrent.
Why? Why? Why? I’m not a sailor. Don’t know port from starboard, stem from stern. The greatest portion of my life has been lived as a desert rat in America’s Southwest. Cactus and Mesquite are my flora; lizards and jackrabbits my fauna. Sand and feldspar not cove and tide my domain.
Why am I so overcome by the sight of this one boat bereft of it’s captain?
Tell me. Please.
R. Roger Beck
Palm Desert, CA
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