True Compass: A Memoir
Page 52
Tragically, the Vietnam War ended all that. Johnson got caught up in it and handled it miserably. The cold war was at its height, and we all had reasons for believing at first that our involvement was vital. But the continued escalation was a huge blunder. It needlessly took so many lives and sucked all of the air and energy out of our progressive ideals. We lost our way. It would take time for voters to endorse those values again.
I rejoice in having lived to see it happen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Perseverance
2009
I have never dwelled on reversals: a defeated bill or a legislative cause that remains unrealized year after year; an election that goes the wrong way. There has been so much to be thankful for. There have been so many reasons for hope.
In the early months of 2008, out of a crowded field of talented Democratic primary candidates, there emerged a young man so compelling, so electric, his mind so alive with good ideas, that before I knew it, I was hopscotching around the western states for him like a fellow half my age, pumping my fist and telling wildly cheering crowds, "I smell change in the air!"
I had many longtime friends among the Democratic presidential contenders: Joe Biden, Hillary Clinton, Chris Dodd, John Edwards, Bill Richardson. And I had come to respect my new colleague Barack Obama. All of these candidates were more than qualified to be president and I would have enthusiastically supported any of them had they been the party's nominee. But I held back at first from getting involved in the primary. As I said many times, I was waiting to see who was capable of lifting up and inspiring our nation to move forward, toward our highest and best ideals, before I decided to endorse anyone. On the night of the Iowa caucuses, Vicki and I watched Barack Obama's victory speech and knew that he had the capacity to inspire. I was among the millions moved as well by Senator Clinton's powerful and uplifting appeal, but I came to believe that Obama was the candidate we needed now at this time in our history. As I talked with my niece Caroline, her children, and our children, I saw the impact that Obama's words were having on them. I felt more and more certain that history had handed us that rarest of figures, one who could truly carve out new frontiers. Or, as the candidate put it in a phrase that resounded everywhere: "Yes we can!"
At around eight o'clock on Thursday morning, January 24, 2008, two days before the critically important South Carolina primary, I spoke with Senator Obama from my home in Washington. "Listen, pal! Is there room on that train of yours for an old--" I couldn't get the rest of it out before the future president's delighted laughter interrupted me, and I laughed along with him. Then I told him, more seriously, "I'm really very strongly in your corner. At the beginning of this whole process I was looking for the person who was going to inspire. That's what the country needs, and I think you've got it."
The next day, Barack gained his breakout victory in South Carolina. Shortly after that, we were out campaigning like it was 1960.
New Mexico, California, New Jersey, Connecticut, Massachusetts--all on February 4, the eve of Super Tuesday. Barack picked up thirteen states to Hillary's ten the next day. A day later, I saw Hillary on the Senate floor and congratulated her on her strong showing. She was smiling and laughing. Despite my endorsement of Obama, my state of Massachusetts was one of those in her "win" column. Barack, who was nearby, caught the mood of the moment; he came over to us and joked, "Maybe, Hillary, I should have let him endorse you." Then I spotted John Kerry and said, "Well, I'm not too good on the endorsing. I endorsed Kerry, too, and look what happened to him!" It was a lighthearted and lively moment, which I think the Senate sometimes shows when it's at its best.
Then Vicki and I hit the trail again: Maine, Pennsylvania, Washington. Maine again. D.C., Maryland, Virginia, Ohio. Our packed schedule of flights and motorcades might have been exhausting, but we were constantly recharged by the prevailing mood of joy. The crowds were large and festive and welcoming, and they made it a pleasure for me to be back on the stump. It was fun, sheer fun.
Hillary fought on with extraordinary determination and skill, and kept the outcome in doubt until the late spring. By that time, of course, I was recovering from my successful surgery at Duke Medical Center, and hoping to be well enough by August to make that appearance at the Democratic convention in Denver. That hope came true, as did my promise to be in Washington for the inauguration of President Obama. He has the potential to be a great president.
And speaking of hope, I still recall that first evening I spent after my seizure in Massachusetts General Hospital: eating chowder from Legal Seafood with Vicki and my children and watching the Red Sox game on TV. But not even someone as hopeful as I would have imagined that on April 7, 2009, I would be standing on the mound at Fenway Park. Like Honey Fitz in 1912, I was ready to throw out the first pitch on Opening Day. I leaned in and peered down for the sign from Hall of Famer Jim Rice, who crouched a few feet away. The first pitch fell short of the target, but I was determined, so I threw a second one and hit my mark. As I later told my grandchildren, I was going to keep throwing until I got it right. Persistence matters.
As my story draws to a close, I am living with cancer. And I know that I will die with it and likely from it. But I don't dwell on that. I have good days and not-so-good days. But more than a year after my diagnosis, I have not yet spent a day in bed. With Vicki's constant help and encouragement, I follow a healthy diet and continue to do moderate exercise. I look forward to going outside every day, rain or shine, to breathe fresh air. I tire more easily than before and need extra rest, and I sometimes use one word when I mean to use another. Still, I continue to sail, as much as the weather allows. And I pray.
All of my life, the teachings of my faith have provided solace and hope, as have the wonders of nature, especially the sea, where religion and spirituality meet the physical. This faith has been as meaningful to me as breathing or loving my family. It's all intertwined.
My faith, and the love of following its rituals, has always been my foundation and my inspiration. Those foundations have been shaken at times by tragedy and misfortune, but faith remains fixed in my heart, as it has been since my childhood days. It is the most positive force in my life and the cause of my eternal optimism. I have fallen short in my life, but my faith has always brought me home.
For almost fifty years, I have represented people who are facing injustice or pain. Life can be violent and grim, but I think of the Resurrection and I feel a sense of hope. When I've started down a spiral of depression or negativism or loss, I've been lucky enough to be able to see another side that can catch me on the way. I believe that if you have a warm and embracing heart, faith can have a powerful impact on your outlook. Vicki has been a great source of strength and love because we share this underlying belief and faith.
Life is eternal. Work continues. It is a calling, an opportunity to do things about injustice or unfairness. It helps to have a goal. I've always tried to have one.
Even this disease has proved itself an impetus for hope. In my lifetime I have witnessed advances in medical understanding of malignancy and treatment for it that would have been unthinkable in my early years. Teddy Jr., then Kara, then myself--three "hopeless" victims of unusually deadly attacks--are among the millions who've enjoyed extended life thanks to these ongoing breakthroughs. Yet so much more is possible. I see how far we've come in my lifetime. When I first campaigned for Jack in the 1960 presidential primaries, Medicare didn't even exist. Now it is part of our national contract.
Even in these challenging times, there are daily reasons to rejoice. After years of work, we finally passed a national service bill that will triple the size of AmeriCorps and dramatically expand opportunities for service by all Americans.
And, of course, my work to improve health care, the great cause of my life, will continue to my last day (and beyond if, as I hope, these words inspire readers to take up the cause). One of the great lessons I've learned from a life in politics is that no reform is ever truly complete. We must
constantly keep moving forward, seeking ways to create that more perfect union. In my personal life, I kept moving to avoid the tragedy behind me. As a senator, that same motivation has been a blessing.
These days, simple pleasures fill me with happiness. In my seventyseven years I have never grown tired of sitting on my front porch and looking out over Nantucket Sound. The waters change texture and color with the light, the weather, the seasons, the time of day. I still pass many contented hours sitting in my green-cushioned wicker chair, with a hot mug of tea on the table beside me, gazing at the sea, the diving osprey, the gulls that can be suspended in midair as they fly against the wind. I love the reflection of the setting sun on the wooden masts of Mya; the rising moon; the beauty of a rainbow after a storm. I am seldom far from the company of my dogs, Splash, Sunny, and now our new pup Captains Courageous (Cappy). They love to retrieve tennis balls, and if a ball finds its way into the water, the dogs won't be far behind.
Sailing is still my favorite pastime. Being on the ocean has thrilled me and comforted me and protected me for all my life, and I love that time now, perhaps more than ever. I also take pleasure in knowing that the sea has formed a bond with our grandchildren as well.
One of my favorite stories is how Little Teddy in particular has developed into a sailor. I'm Big Teddy. Medium Teddy is my son. And Little Teddy is his son, Edward Moore Kennedy III, born in 1998.
In the summer of 2008, ten-year-old Little Teddy spent the summer in Hyannis Port, working hard on his sailing. As he told me one evening, his father passed sailing on to him just as I had passed it on to his father. It was a Kennedy tradition to sail. The problem was, though, that throughout July, nothing seemed to go right with Little Teddy's sailing and he wasn't having very much fun. He would race his boat and come in last or second to last. He would swamp his boat and spend his time bailing it out. He was often miserable and shed more than a few tears. But his father and I encouraged him. Keep sailing. Try this technique. Don't give up. I told Teddy of my being eighth string on the Harvard football team and how I was not the best athlete by far. But I stayed with it and didn't give up and by my senior year I was a starter and caught touchdown passes. His face seemed to light up a bit. "We might not be the best, Teddy, but we can work harder than anyone," I told him. "And that will make the difference."
Little Teddy stayed with it. He grew eager to learn. He got better. He got more than better; he started winning races. When they gave the sailing awards at the end of August, Teddy had won first place for the August series in his division. What a triumph. But what meant even more to him--and, I must say, more to me--is that he won the award for the Most Improved Sailor.
It was a great moment--a grand moment. You couldn't even button up Teddy's coat because his chest was so filled with pride and achievement.
This is the greatest lesson a child can learn. It is the greatest lesson anyone can learn. It has been the greatest lesson I have learned: if you persevere, stick with it, work at it, you have a real opportunity to achieve something. Sure, there will be storms along the way. And you might not reach your goal right away. But if you do your best and keep a true compass, you'll get there.
My mother, Rose Kennedy. Bettmann/Corbis
My dad, Joseph P. Kennedy. Corbis
The wedding of Rose Fitzgerald and Joseph Kennedy, October 7, 1914. Bettmann/Corbis
My mother is flanked by her parents, Josephine and John "Honey Fitz" Fitzgerald, at their 50th Anniversary party in Boston, September 18, 1939. Richard Sears/John F. Kennedy Library
Jack wanted me to be named after George Washington because I was born on his birthday. John F. Kennedy Library
The family posed for a group portrait, July 8, 1934: me, Jean, Bobby, Pat, Eunice, Kathleen, Rosemary, Jack, Mother and Dad. Bettmann/Corbis
With Bobby in Palm Beach, 1934. John F. Kennedy Library
With Bobby, Pat, and Jean, Palm Beach, 1934. John F. Kennedy Library
BACK ROW: Rosemary, Pat, Eunice, Mom; MIDDLE: Bobby, Dad (holding me), Jean. John F. Kennedy Library
In Palm Beach, 1934. John F. Kennedy Library
With Jean and Bobby on Halloween 1934, in Bronxville. John F. Kennedy Library
With Dad in the pool. John F. Kennedy Library
With Jack and Bobby in Palm Beach, April 1936. John F. Kennedy Library
Being received by Pope Pius XII at Vatican City. Dad represented the United States at the Pope's coronation, March 20, 1939. Later, I received my first Holy Communion from the Pope himself. Bettmann/Corbis
At the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, April 11, 1938. AP Photo
With Bobby on our first day at Gibbs School in London, March 1, 1938. Bettmann/Corbis
With Bobby at the reopening of the Royal Children's Zoo, June 9, 1938. Bettmann/Corbis
With Bobby, Jack, Dad, and Joe Jr. in Antibes, France, Summer 1939. John F. Kennedy Library
With Joe Jr. in Palm Beach. John F. Kennedy Library
Sailing with Jack aboard Victura, Hyannis Port, Massachusetts, c. 1946. John F. Kennedy Library
Clowning with Jack in Hyannis Port. John F. Kennedy Library
With Jack and Bobby in Hyannis Port. John F. Kennedy Library
Harvard football, 1955. I started at the bottom of the depth chart but stayed with it. Paul Connell/Boston Globe/Landov
With Bobby and Jack on the beach in Palm Beach. Douglas Jones, LOOK Magazine/John F. Kennedy Library
With Bobby and Jack. Edward M. Kennedy Collection
With Joan at our wedding, November 29, 1958. Bettmann/Corbis
With Jack at a campaign stop in West Virginia during my brother's 1960 presidential campaign. When Jack got laryngitis on the trail, I gave a few of his speeches. Corbis
Coming out of Chute 4 on Skyrocket, Miles City, Montana, August 27, 1960. Edward M. Kennedy Collection
The night after Jack won the presidential election. Photo by Paul Schutzer/Time & Life Pictures/Getty Images
A campaign poster from 1962. Boston Globe/Landov
At a campaign rally in Massachusetts, 1962. Fay Foto Service
Campaigning in Medfield, Massachusetts, October 11, 1962. Frank C. Curtin/AP Photo
With President Kennedy at a Democratic Party fundraiser, "New England's Salute to the President," at the Boston Armory, October 1963. Cecil Stoughton/John F. Kennedy Library
With Mrs. Ngo Dinh Nhu, First Lady of South Vietnam, at a luncheon during the Inter-Parliamentary conference in Belgrade, 1963. Bettmann/Corbis
With Kara and Teddy Jr. John Loengard/Time Life Pictures/Getty Images
Teddy Jr. and Kara. Bettmann/Corbis
The remains of the plane that crashed in the fog near Southampton, Massachusetts, December 1964. Bettmann/Corbis
After the plane crash, being wheeled into an ambulance for my transfer to New England Baptist Hospital in Boston. AZB/AP Photo
Receiving physical therapy. Leonard McCombe/Time Life Pictures/Getty Images
With Joan, Kara, and Teddy Jr. at New England Baptist Hospital. Bettmann/Corbis
With Bobby in the hospital. Bettmann/Corbis
With Dad, December 1964. Bettmann/Corbis
Presenting a Purple Heart to a wounded American serviceman during an inspection tour of Vietnam, October 1965. Edward M. Kennedy Collection
With Coretta and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., at a meeting of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, August 8, 1966. Edward M. Kennedy Collection
St. Patrick's Day Parade in South Boston. Burton Berinsky/John F. Kennedy Library/Landov
A hearing on the issue of poverty, March 1967. Wally McNamee/Corbis
Discussing campaign strategy with Bobby at Hickory Hill in McLean, Virginia, 1968. Burt Glinn/Magnum Photos
With Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, at a celebration marking the 24th anniversary of Indian independence, August 1971. Bettmann/Corbis
With a refugee child in Calcutta during a fact-finding mission to India, August 1971. Bettmann/Corbis
With members of the Vietnam Veterans Against the War during a 1972 demonstration on the Washington Mall. John Kerry is visible at bottom right. Steven Clevenger/Corbis
Speaking with Vietnam veterans during the 1972 demonstration on the Washington Mall. Leonard Freed/Magnum Photos
Meeting with Jewish Refusniks in Moscow, 1974. Ken Regan/Camera 5
With Howard Cosell at the RFK Tennis Tournament, in Forest Hills, New York, 1975. Ken Regan/Camera 5
With Walter Cronkite at the 1976 Democratic National Convention in New York City. CBS /Landov
Being received by Pope Paul VI during a private audience in Vatican City, November 12, 1976. AP Photo
With Mother in Hyannis Port, 1978. Ken Regan/Camera 5
With Pat and Jean, campaigning for the 1980 presidential nomination. Ken Regan/Camera 5
With Leonid Brezhnev and a Russian interpreter, 1979. Ken Regan/Camera 5
In China, 1979. Ken Regan/Camera 5
With Dick Drayne, Jim Flug, and Paul Kirk at the Democratic convention, watching Tip O'Neil on TV. Ken Regan/Camera 5