Ted

There is nothing to say about the death of Ted Kennedy that hasn't already been said. But I have a few memories of my own that I'd like to share.

In the late 1980's and early '90's I worked in the Democratic Leadership offices of the US Senate. You observe a lot about the behavior of legislators when you see them every day.

One of my responsibilities was to organize orientation for newly elected senators. It was fascinating to observe them at the beginning and then a few months later. With a staff of over six thousand serving just one hundred senators, it is not surprising that some of them take on the aspects of royalty. When there are Senators Only dining rooms, Senators Only subway cars, Senators Only elevators, and when people bend over backwards to do what you want and crowds literally part for you, it can bring about a change in self perception.

We all knew the senators who treated staff like they were invisible or belittled them in public. We knew the ones who would not get on staff elevators even if they arrived before the ones marked Senators Only. We all knew from certain events in his life that Kennedy sometimes had a sense of entitlement and used it. On Capitol Hill, though, Kennedy, born to a life of privilege and surrounded all his life by important people, was not like that.

When I saw him around the Senate, he was always larger than life. I mean that, to borrow one of Joe Biden's favorite phrases, "literally, not figuratively." He strode through the halls purposefully, almost always surrounded by staff. More than once, when the elevator did not arrive quickly enough for him, he would say to his staff, "Let's take the steps." The number of floors did not deter him, though sometimes his companions looked daunted by the challenge.

Meanwhile, he was always pleasant, smiling and acknowledging people he passed along the way.

The senators have their offices in one of the three Senate Office Buildings, but almost all of them have a hideaway somewhere in the Capitol Building. The more senior you are, the better the hideaway. Kennedy had a choice one on the second floor, near the Senate Library, with a commanding view of the Mall. I passed by it every day on the way to my attic office. The door was usually closed. Sometimes there would be a trolley outside the door with the remnants of club sandwiches. It's funny what you remember.

One afternoon the door was open and I couldn't resist peeking in. The room was painted a dark Irish green then. Everywhere you looked, on the tables, on the desktop, on the walls, were photographs of his parents, his three brothers, all of whom had died violent deaths, his sisters, his grandparents. There was an overwhelming sense of the past in that room, of the family's history, and it was impossible not to think that so much of it was tragic. The only word I could think of at the time to describe it was poignant. I can't think of a better one now.

It was well known that Ted gave up liquor during Lent. His huge frame would gradually be reduced to large. One evening while working late I was outside the Senate Chamber carrying three bottles of white wine. I can't remember why. The door of the Chamber flew open and there was Senator Kennedy, striding towards me down the hall. I tucked into a small alcove until he passed. Except he didn't. He peered around the alcove with a twinkle in his eye, shook his finger at me and said, "I still have three weeks to go!"

Another of my responsibilities was to organize retreats for Democratic senators. The idea was to get them out of Washington with their families, and arrange for bigshots from various fields to hold panels and discussions with them. It was at one such event that then Senator Al Gore arranged for eminent environmentalists to come and discuss global warming. I remember that the panel was not well attended.

Kennedy always showed up at the retreats. Before he married for a second time in 1992, he and his friend Senator Chris Dodd used to stay up until the wee hours partying and singing show tunes with the staff. Kennedy sang with gusto. He and Dodd were like fraternity brothers.

On one of those retreats, I was working in the control room when I looked up to find Senator Kennedy looming over me.

"Can you help me out?" he asked in a conspiratorial voice.

He wanted to "get credit" for attending the morning session but he didn't want to stay through all of it.

The plan was that after 45 minutes I would take him a note saying that he had to leave for something important. I delivered the note as directed and he studied it solemnly, before excusing himself from the meeting. On his way out, he poked his head into the control room and with that big smile of his, gave me a thumbs up and a thanks.

All of us who appreciated his efforts in the Senate are giving him a silent thumbs up and thanks now. My daughter said it best on Facebook: "Nina would like to thank the Lion of the Senate for all his hard work on behalf of health care, education, and civil rights. It's the end of an era."

Yes, it is.