Kennedy and Memories
My earliest memory of what it means to live in Washington was made on a bitter cold November morning when my father took us kids to Memorial Bridge to see President Kennedy's funeral procession as it inched toward Arlington National Cemetery.
It was freezing and we must have complained because I remember my father explaining that we were there because "this is history." I did not appreciate it then. But years later, I came to understand what he meant. I treasure that day and I love the majestic city and all that it symbolizes. (Yes, I know we don't always live up to its promise, but I keep hoping.)
Tomorrow, I probably will not make the trek to the bridge. But I do intend to walk to the East Front of the U.S. Capitol where congressional staff will pay one last tribute to Sen. Edward Kennedy as his funeral procession makes its way to Arlington.
It seems only fitting. The death of Edward Kennedy brings to an end an era, not only in my life, but in the life of a nation. Yes, the brother was president and the other brother spoke eloquent words about civil and human rights that deeply touched a wildly optimistic young girl in the '60s.
But this Kennedy touched so many people in Massachusetts, his home state, and so many lives here in Washington, and people across the country in extraordinary ways that I had never heard before his death. It seems everyone has a personal story about a side of him that was not public. Those stories make me appreciate him more.
The passing of this Kennedy has also touched me in a way I never would have imagined. I didn't know how to express what it was I'm feeling until Washington Post columnist Eugene Robinson put it so eloquently on MSNBC and again in today's column. It's about a life, warts and all, that in the end, was lived with purpose.
I am touched because this Kennedy -- through his good works, his misdeeds and misfortunes, his family's tragedies and triumphs -- has been a presence in American life for half a century. Five decades. My life.
And now he's gone.
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| Arlington National Cemetery |
Tomorrow, I probably will not make the trek to the bridge. But I do intend to walk to the East Front of the U.S. Capitol where congressional staff will pay one last tribute to Sen. Edward Kennedy as his funeral procession makes its way to Arlington.
It seems only fitting. The death of Edward Kennedy brings to an end an era, not only in my life, but in the life of a nation. Yes, the brother was president and the other brother spoke eloquent words about civil and human rights that deeply touched a wildly optimistic young girl in the '60s.
But this Kennedy touched so many people in Massachusetts, his home state, and so many lives here in Washington, and people across the country in extraordinary ways that I had never heard before his death. It seems everyone has a personal story about a side of him that was not public. Those stories make me appreciate him more.
The passing of this Kennedy has also touched me in a way I never would have imagined. I didn't know how to express what it was I'm feeling until Washington Post columnist Eugene Robinson put it so eloquently on MSNBC and again in today's column. It's about a life, warts and all, that in the end, was lived with purpose.
I am touched because this Kennedy -- through his good works, his misdeeds and misfortunes, his family's tragedies and triumphs -- has been a presence in American life for half a century. Five decades. My life.
And now he's gone.
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