Senator Edward Kennedy
(8 of 8)
The demarcation wasn't as clear as all that. He had started becoming an excellent Senator well before his presidential millstone was lifted. Unlike his brothers, he loved the intricacy and camaraderie of the Senate. He became as adept in small rooms, where the deals are made, as his brothers had been on the largest stages. Others can describe his political efficacy, the legislative monuments that will constitute his legacy. For me, the best moments came when we talked about things like returning vets, from Vietnam to Afghanistan--he haunted Walter Reed Army Medical Center, especially whenever a kid from Massachusetts wound up there. I also remember the day when I began to blub as he read the report of a Chilean torture victim, a woman who watched her children be tortured; I pretended not to be blubbing, and he pretended not to notice. If we were women, we might have actually talked about it.
We were never friends; our relationship was professional, but keen and, ultimately, affectionate. I don't remember the last time I spoke with him. It might have been in Iowa, during the 2008 campaign--he had the connoisseur's appreciation of Barack Obama. But the last time I saw him that I really remember was a day I stopped by his office to talk about ... what? Health care, maybe the war in Iraq? His dog was roaming about, rubbing up against me, then settling at the Senator's feet. We were surrounded by his oil paintings of Cape Cod scenes. We talked about his painting; we talked about the Cape, a place we both love, little things--this harbor, that herring run. After all the craziness, after 40 years had slipped between us, he was completely at ease. I wanted to ask him about those awkward, awful times back when. But why mess with the mood? He had exorcised the demons. He was whole.