
A Tribute to a Hero By: Jacqueline E. Hughes
Ever since I was a small child, born into and educated within the realm of the Catholic Church, I can remember having nuns to the left of me and priests to the right of me most every day of my life. With flowing black robes that rustled with each step and snapped in the breeze like a dark unfurled flag, my tiny being was ensconced by these giant, authoritative bookends and I was made to feel as safe and protected as possible while away from parental guidance. I was young and impressionable and can even remember in seventh grade hoping to don the crisp white robes of a Missionary Nun as my future ‘passion’ and desired to travel to remote areas of the world to help those in need.
Getting way ahead of myself here…….. I want to skip back a few years to a sunny day on the playground with all my friends playing Red Rover as the Kennedy name was flitting around our heads like the winged seed pods of the tall maple trees hovering above. Pictures of a ‘pretty’ man with an enormous amount of thick blond hair and a pleasant toothy smile greeted us from the pale green cinder block walls as we entered the school after recess and marched in line back to our classes. The nuns would say his name and unknowingly mimic the charismatic smile that his picture displayed. Priests would say his name with authority while standing high above us in the pulpit issuing the sermon to the masses on a Sunday morning. Parents would whisper his name to one another after church and the men would furl their brows while the women discreetly tipped their heads to the side and blew out tiny puffs of air towards one another. At the young age of ten, was I truly capable of understanding just how important that face, associated with the title of Kennedy, would become to all of us for so many years? Nevertheless, with tummy still reeling from too much Halloween candy layered with gooey pink cake from my November 4th birthday, I entered the ‘Kennedy Era’ on Tuesday, November 8, 1960.
I was soon to discover that my name, Jacqueline, was associated with John Kennedy, as well. I was as proud as a peacock strutting my colors to the world while thanking my parents for this blessing. And, as the level of my worldly knowledge progressed, I was introduced to the Kennedy brothers, Bobby and Teddy, and tried to understand how intricately the lives of these three Kennedy men were woven together like a piece of fine Irish lace. It was the assassination of John as President that shot the realization of cruelty and stupidity into my early life and brought all of us to a new level of anxiety that greatly multiplied when we heard the name Martin Luther King, Robert F. Kennedy and, eventually, Kent State University. On June 6, 1968, two eventful happenings rocked my world: I was graduating high school and hoping that my impending college education would bring me some hope and stability and, Bobby Kennedy was swiftly taken from us by a bullet to the head…..a reminder of John’s death only five years earlier.
We would never forget how our heroes were taken away from us, one by one. We hoped we were stronger, more loving and free. We knew there was a better way and, probably, most of my earlier classmates who had intertwined arms in an innocent child’s game of Red Rover one sunny day, were now marching to a field in New York State to prove to everyone, but most of all themselves, that life could be better. It had to be better because the world around us had reached a new low. The war in Viet Nam was raging and taking relatives and friends down with it. So, for a few days anyway, we were transformed from a state of fear to a state of eurhythmic bliss. Some of us marched to Woodstock while others marched to a military cadence in tune to complete physical and mental devastation.
While we, The Flower Children, danced with hope in our hearts, one man was left shouldering the burden of a Family in crisis; a Family in pain. This man had to fight his own demons that threatened to rip him apart like the delicate yellowed pages of a long forgotten book. Teddy Kennedy had a choice to make: Follow a path of personal destruction or move forward into the light. His choice was made easier by his desire to simply help others. He didn’t have to travel to the far reaches of the world to help people in need, as I wanted to do as a student. He became The Lion of the United States Senate. His voice roared throughout the confines of that venerable building and institution. Teddy took on the task originally laid out by John, Martin and Bobby and became the final pillar of strength for so many people in this crazy mixed-up world.
Teddy Kennedy completed my set of “authoritative bookends” that continued to comfort me ever since the Kennedy name was first introduced into my life. I will travel to pay homage to my fallen hero as I have already done in Atlanta and Arlington National Cemetery before and will stand near the Eternal Flame as my eyes glance over the names John F., Robert F. and Edward M. Kennedy. I will take that moment to sincerely thank each man for his contribution to a better way of life for so many. And, I will pray that others will continue to pick-up the torch lit by the flame of ‘freedom and justice for all’ and march, if not dance, to the beat for as long as it takes to understand and execute their importance within our lives just as these brothers always did.
My respect and regards to the Kennedy Family during this sad and difficult time. We’ll be dancing at your wake, Teddy, along with all of those who have admired, loved and appreciated your hard work throughout the years. Thank you for always being there for us.
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