End/Begin

I was profoundly moved on Wednesday to learn of the death of Ted Kennedy. My father's family is Irish Catholic, and though many of them scorned the idealism of the liberal left, they honored the Kennedy family for its great accomplishments in the face of religious and national-origin discrimination. For many of the old cranks in my family, the 1960 presidential race was the one and only time in their entire lives at which they voted for a Democrat. They were proud that "one of their own" was voted into the highest office, much the same as today's African-American population is proud of President Obama. It took an Irishman in the highest job in the land to erase the pain of "Irish Need Not Apply" signs in job placement offices.

Like many Irish Catholics, my grandmother hung a picture of JFK in her house right under that of the Pope. He was a martyr in her eyes. When Bobby was assassinated, many in my family were sickened with grief and dread. If "they" could do this to, not one, but two Kennedys, what hope remained for the rest of us? What would stop "them" from picking us off, too? Such were the fears engendered by the second Kennedy assassination.

But Teddy remained. His was a long life scarred by tragedy, and if there's one thing an Irishman loves, it's a good lament. Even though many of my family members abhorred his politics, he became almost emblematic of the best and worst of us, a symbol of all we had gained and lost. And through it all, he endured. He avoided the assassin's bullet. He retained his high status. He sang, he roared, and despite his many great accomplishments, he failed to achieve his highest goals. There's something both tragic and beautiful in his life.

I had few qualms about his politics and agreed with him on most matters of social justice. I respected all that he did for the arts -- my community lost one of our strongest champions on Wednesday. Now that he has fallen, who will catch the flag? There is no one left in politics who cares about arts the way the Kennedys did. Instead of appealing to our highest humanity, today's leaders settle for the basest greed. Money is all that matters now. Greed is good.

His death marks not just the end of a life, but the end of an era.

Throughout the course of the week, those of us who watch the news were reminded again and again of the great care Teddy took of the next generation of Kennedys. I've been thinking about this a lot lately, about how he made sure that Bobby and Jack's kids were always a strong part of his life.

This is why, during the funeral yesterday as I listened to the speeches and songs and even cried a little, I started the next afghan for my nephew Dylan.

Bless you, Ted Kennedy, and thank you for inspiring so many. Eternal rest grant unto you, and perpetual light shine upon you.