My Kennedy Connection

Ted Kennedy's death has brought back for all of us the lives and deaths of the members of his family, and the various tragedies suffered by that family.

We all remember where we were when JFK was assassinated, but I also recall how I babysat for a family who claimed they would leave the country if JFK lost the election to Richard Nixon. My parents were staunch Nixon supporters, and I, myself, had been roped into being a Nixonette, so as a young teen, I was pretty skeptical of the Catholic John F. Kennedy. Thank goodness those days are behind me.

Then, I voted for Robert Kennedy in the California primary - my first opportunity to vote in our great democracy, and sitting on the bed in our Stanford high-rise student housing, watched him die at the hands of Sirhan Sirhan in the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles. Having come a long way from my days as a Nixonette, I had become a true child of the 60s, believing passionately in the Civil Rights Movement and peace and social justice. It took a long time for me to actually act on the beliefs that had slowly developed through my college years, but the person I have become has been strongly shaped by Kennedy ideals of service to country and working to make a difference in the lives of others. Teaching was the closest I could come to living out those ideas, though the Peace Corps may still await me.

In 1977, I finally had a chance to meet a member of the Kennedy family when Senator Ted Kennedy came to offer the dedication speech at the opening of the Franconia Frost Place. I was the Project Director for the house as a historic museum and organized the summer music and poetry program. I had written all the publicity for the Kennedy visit and the opening of the house; I had been interviewed by Time Magazine and various state newspapers; I couldn't wait for the dedication day to happen.

The day of the dedication was a perfect, hot, New England summer day. The Kennedy entourage, including Ted, Eunice Shriver and three of their children, flew into the Whitefield airport and traveled to the Franconia Town Hall, where my family and I stood on the lawn in what the local paper described as a "throng of 300 people" to hear the various speeches that day. CBS news covered the event, and it was one of the biggest deals to happen in Franconia for a long time. Imagine my devastation when the Chairs of the Frost Place Committee recognized the work of every other person who had worked on that day and on getting the Frost Place ready for opening, and never mentioned my name. I was crushed.

I was, however, all the more determined to meet the Senator. As the ceremony came to an end, I drove hastily to the Frost Place, and planted myself beside the door where I knew the Kennedys would have to enter the house. I had never done anything quite this bold, or pushy. As the group arrived at the Frost Place, sure enough, the Senator led the way down the porch to the screen door where I thrust out my hand and as he shook it, I introduced myself and welcomed him to the Frost home. Did I shake hands with Eunice? I don't remember. I faded back into the woodwork, where I stayed for the rest of the afternoon. I had met the last of the Kennedy brothers.