G.H. Lawrence & Associates Blog

I’m astonished at all the feedback I’ve gotten from my last post on Wednesday, entitled “Kennedy, my father and me.” It’s all been positive. I liked the piece too, but I take little credit for it striking a chord. Instead, it was all about the subject — Ted Kennedy, a visit to the Senate by me and my father in 1963, and the emotions generated by both. I spent so much of Wednesday writing that piece, responding to comments and working on other, unrelated duties, I didn’t have much of a chance to dwell on how I felt about the Senator’s passing. His death is more meaningful for me today.

I’m a left-leaning Democrat, so Kennedy’s politics have always suited me fine. I’m just old enough to remember the uproar surrounding the events at Chappaquiddick. Even as a kid, that whole mess struck me as wrong. I certainly remember the adults around me being chagrined. Later, after my father had become something of a big deal in Washington himself, we heard rumors about Kennedy’s shady social life. In the 1980s, it was his nephew and the charges facing him in Florida. Very unseemly stuff, all of it.

But as my father said yesterday, it sure seemed that Kennedy had improved his life during the past several years. Despite any personal demons he might have faced, he became more and more like a father figure to many of us. He became a statesman. He became the man he couldn’t be when he was younger. I can identify with that. It takes longer for some of us than others.

Michael Jackson’s death is still in the news. I know it may not be exactly the same thing, but I hope Ted Kennedy’s death gets a fraction of that attention. Something tells me it won’t.

So on the day AFTER Ted Kennedy died, I’m researching his legacy. It’s an amazing one. From boyhood, to being kicked out of Harvard, to coming back to Harvard, to the U.S. Senate, to becoming the leader of a political party. Ted Kennedy: What a remarkable story. It’s one we shouldn’t soon forget.

Though so many memories from my earliest days have faded with age, I can still remember the first time I saw Ted Kennedy. I’m not sure why this event stands out so vividly in my mind, but it does. It was 1963 and Kennedy was in his first term as a United States Senator. I was 5 years old and in the company of my father, who was in his late 20s. In fact, my old man was 29. The thought of my father at 29 is enough to stir my emotions alone. But when I revisit these fuller images of a young Kennedy on the Senate floor — and my youthful father holding my hand as we climbed to our seats in the gallery — I can’t avoid choking up a little, especially on this day.

My father thought it was important that I see and experience as much of the world as possible at an early age. He took me all over the globe while I was still a child. With my father at the helm, we traveled like crazy, undertaking long exotic trips interspersed with plenty of spontaneous little jaunts, zigging and zagging through life with a curiosity and enthusiasm I hope my own son has inherited. (To this day, even a short adventure in the company of my father is, without fail, a fine learning experience and a wonderful pleasure.) So against this backdrop of zestful living, a quick visit to the U.S. Senate on a sunny afternoon in Washington was not so unordinary.

Peering down from the gallery made me dizzy. It seemed a mighty long way to that plush, colorful carpet on the Senate floor. It was not a big day in the Senate. The atmosphere was business-like, a bit hushed, but with plenty of activity — members moving about freely, pages and aides scurrying around, quiet laughter breaking out in small groups. Cigarette smoke created a haze that floated somewhere above the floor but beneath our spot in the gallery. A young man, only a year or so older than my father, addressed the room, hardly noticed at all. Dressed in a dark suit with narrow tie, he waved his hands as he spoke. His voice rose and fell with a natural rhythm that someday would become famous. His words created shallow echoes that bounced around the almost-empty gallery. No one seemed to be paying much attention, but he kept hammering away. My father knew who he was and told me: “That’s Kennedy’s youngest brother, Ted. He’s a new Senator from Massachusetts. Let’s listen.”

I’m pretty sure Kennedy’s brother, John, was still alive at this point, probably working away at his desk in the Oval Office just down the street. No one could have known what was about to happen to our country — and the Kennedy family — in the very near future. Looking back now, it’s almost hard to fathom. I get goose bumps thinking about it.

So we listened. I remember Kennedy’s voice, with his New England accent, and I remember his face, young, fresh and vigorous. Of all the fascinating topics he could have been addressing this day, the rookie Senator from Mass was discussing some kind of proposed tax on sugar. Since Congress doesn’t play a role in local sales taxes, I assume the issue involved international trade. This was the early 1960s, of course, decades before NAFTA or anything remotely like it. I wish I knew more about what he was talking about, but I just don’t. Maybe someday when I have enough time on my hands, I’ll do some research and find out. But for now, it doesn’t matter.

What matters to me is that I can remember these events at all. It matters that I was exposed to the U.S. Senate at such an early age. It matters that I got to see such an important figure in American history at this point  in his life and career. It matters that all this happened when I was with my dear father. My father, who at that point was relatively conservative politically, went on to become quite the liberal in the following five or six years, during the late 1960s. Forty-six years later, his political views have changed some more. So have mine. But not Teddy Kennedy’s.

For better or worse, Kennedy has always remained steadfast in his liberal positions. His politics simply didn’t change much. The only thing that really did change was his ability to get things done in the Senate. Over time, his legislative skills grew and improved and became so powerful that, as Vice President Joe Biden said this morning, the Sentate probably will not see his like again.

Kennedy served in the U.S. Senate during five decades. I feel lucky to have seen him in those early days. It’s a memory I will cherish: Being with my father. The stately Senate chamber. Cigarette smoke in the air. And a sugar tax I still don’t comprehend. But the older I get, the more I realize we don’t have to fully understand things for them to bring meaning to our lives. In fact, sometimes the most important memories don’t make much sense at all. They just hang there, snippets we’ve snatched from a long reel of tape playing over and over in the back of our mind. This is one of those memories for me.

I recalled this memory today with a mix of sentiment, fondness and respect. This morning, I was fotunate enough to share it with my father. From two of us who continue to survive that moment in 1963: Good-bye Senator Kennedy. We hope you rest well.

Yes, it was emotional watching the American journalists disembark their jetliner this morning after 140 days or so of captivity in North Korea. The cable TV networks went nuts about the two women embracing their families, a mere few feet from the plane that had delivered them. One hugged her young daughter. Both hugged their parents. Good television for sure — and, like most people, I was moved. But enough of that. I got nearly as big a kick out of watching good ol’ Bill Clinton swaggering down the gangway and onto that toasty tarmac.

Give ol’ Bill some credit: First, he did the classy thing and allowed the journalists to exit first and take plenty of time with their families. He waited a good 10 minutes or so before he left the plane. When he did, he quietly chatted with the families and exchanged a few hugs. When it came time for the thank-yous and speeches, he said nothing. After journalist Laura Ling gave some heartfelt and well-rehearsed remarks, it was Al Gore, her employer at Current News TV, who took the microphone. Ol’ Bill stood in the background, grinning silently like the aging cat he has become. That’s not like the Clinton of old. Could it be he’s aging gracefully? I hear some people actually learn from their mistakes.

Of course, ol’ Bill had plenty to grin about. First, he had succeeded in an act of diplomacy that resulted in the release of innocent Americans. He was freshly back home from a tense few days in one of the most mysterious and dangerous countries in the world. But as much as anything, he must have been feeling a great sense of accomplishment — enough to enhance his sometimes-lumpy legacy.

The freed journalists said they had no clue they were being released until they were led to a meeting room. When the doors opened, they were shocked to see Bill Clinton standing there before them. It was then they knew they were safe. Forget about this morning’s photo ops at the airport: I’d rather see some footage from that moment. (I’m certain it exists: The North Koreans are said to have video cameras planted everywhere.)

I’m a Democrat and I almost always fell in line with ol’ Bill’s politics. I found him, and still do, to be a likeable guy. When I met him, he was charming and fully engaged, looking me right in the eye and gripping my hand hard and tight. But of course, there’s the whole Monica business. I wasn’t especially bothered by the fact that our smooth-talking president had an affair. To me, that was personal business. But I was angered by the fact that he lied about it. That whole thing involving the definition of the word “is” was, and still “is,”  bull.

So this morning, ol’ Bill stood by and soaked up the moment. His hair is no longer gray, but instead fluffy, flashy white. His face is more weathered than ever. But for my two cents, he looks pretty good. I also have a feeling that as more time passes, Clinton will become a greater former president. Look what’s happened to Jimmy Carter. Say what you will about ol’ Bill, but I was impressed with what he did this time. I suspect the Americans he brought home were too.