My Personal Kennedy

Growing up in a politically liberal Jewish, East Coast household during the mid sixties and seventies, the Kennedy name was revered and respected. I remember pulling "Profiles in Courage" from our rather copious bookshelves, reading over and over JFK's detailed description of PT-109. My dad spoke frequently about JFK, Camelot, of our nation's dreams. One of my dad's most proude yet saddest moments was in November 1963, when he was asked to serve as the Jewish chaplain at Charleston Airforce Base, where he was a Captain in the US Airforce. Years later, I played for hours with my three foot tall cardboard Jackie Kennedy doll, dressing her in English riding habits and her Oleg Cassini suits and A-line dresses. I adored Jackie, her love of all things French, her elegant, soft-spoken manner. Although quite young, I have a strong memory of my parents tearfully watching the television reports following Bobby's assassination. I even attended John F. Kennedy Elementary school.

Our paths crossed the Kennedy's on several occasions. I recall a Christmas Eve dinner at Tavern on the Green, snow falling gently in Central Park. At an adjacent table, Teddy, Jr. and a cousin dined. Many winters, we visited Palm Beach, playground of the Kennedy's, frequenting Au Bar and other Kennedy haunts. Years later, I campaigned alongside Joseph P. Kennedy II in Bill Clinton's first bid for the presidency.

I have asked my father about the origin of our reverence for the Kennedy's. I think, for my dad, the Kennedy's represented a much simpler time. When JFK took the oath of office, kids under toe, our country was full of idealism. Sure, we had the Cuban Missile Crisis, impending War in Vietnam, Civil Rights violations. But it seemed like nothing a few martinis, straight up, couldn't fix. During Camelot, we revered our politicians. The press kept quiet all hints of personal scandal. And the Kennedy's embodied the American Dream. On a personal level, to my parents, Camelot represented newlywed life on an airforce base. They dined with friends at the Officers' Club, gave birth to their first child. Happy times. The promise of a future ahead. Youth.

Oswald's bullets shattered forever our collective dreams, spilling blood on Jackie's pink boucle suit. Our country would never be the same. Our collective innocence was further pierced by Sirhan Sirhan's shots in the Ambassador Hotel.

Teddy Kennedy died last night. The end of a dynasty. To me, the death of yet another part of my childhood.