On the Passing of Senator Kennedy

The senator noticed my shiny, smooth-belly-ostrich cowboy boots and joked, with a big smile and a warm demeanor that I could not have expected, that I “must be the page from New York, for Clinton.”
n Wednesday, we lost a mainstay of modern American politics. For almost half a century, Senator Edward “Ted” Kennedy championed what his heart told him was just.
Breaking legislative deadlocks, forging unsuspected political alliances, and advancing urgent – by some accounts importunate – initiatives, he left his mark, as his legacy will continue to do for some time.
Although his life was occasionally marred by scandal and controversy, Senator Kennedy found stability in Victoria Reggie and, we would hope, laid his inner demons to rest when he publicly recognized, and apologized for, his “own shortcomings: the faults in the conduct of [his] private life.”
A large measure of Kennedy’s political success owed to his sincere and tireless passion. Whether one appraises his beliefs as laudable or one views them as misinformed, Kennedy’s stature as a public servant can hardly be questioned—at least regarding the degree to which he attempted to achieve all he promised his constituents.
I had the pleasure of meeting Ted Kennedy while serving as a Senate Page for John Cornyn (R-Texas). I had been waiting downstairs of the Capitol – near the trams that whisk staffers and politicians to and from the Hill – notifying the Republican cloakroom of the various senators on their way to a vote. As I began to proceed to the Senate chambers, I found myself walking next to the Senate lion himself.
After exchanging a short “good day,” the senator noticed my shiny, smooth-belly-ostrich cowboy boots and joked, with a big smile and a warm demeanor that I could not have expected, that I “must be the page from New York, for Clinton.” I laughed and rejoined that I was, rather, paging for the man who equated gay marriage with civil unions between men and “box turtles.” Ted chuckled as we headed towards the elevator on the way up to the Senate floor.
I then informed the senator that my boots were actually out of dress code for pages and that I’d been reprimanded on a few occasions—much to the amusement of the boot-bedight senators Cornyn, Enzi, and Lott. I told him I didn’t mind as my boots, which have been in my family for years, are a source of my pride and represent who I am. I’ll never forget his response:
“Well, as an outspoken person, you’ll soon learn that your confidence in your character and convictions, whatever they are, will never please everyone. I guess if we please everyone we never truly fight for someone.”
The elevator door opened and the senator promptly bid me goodbye as he made his way to the floor to fervidly fight for someone. I lingered in the elevator for a few seconds, humbled and inspired by the unexpected exchange.
This Saturday, Senator Kennedy will be buried at Arlington Cemetery. From a grave nearby and a plot looking down from a neighboring hill, Robert and John will welcome their brother home after all these years for continuing the impassioned legacy they had begun and to which they devoted their lives.
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