I hope this isn't tacky to blog about, but I blog about my experiences, especially those happening in DC, and this fits both. Saturday I followed through on a promise to my Aunt Traci and went downtown to see Senator Kennedy's funeral procession.
Like most people, I too am intrigued by the allure of the Kennedy family. And having just finished The Last Campaign about Bobby Kennedy -- in which the beautifully written description of his own procession caused me to openly cry on the metro -- the lasting imprint of their legacy was fresh on my mind.
But I can't say that I fully grasped the role Kennedy played and the impact he had on both politics and his own family until I read all the articles and watched the coverage this week. (I read some of the criticisms as well, nothing I didn't already know and nothing that hasn't already played a role in shaping my view of him.)
So on Saturday I waited on the steps of the National Archives, surrounded by more Boston Red Sox gear than I've ever seen, as everyone stood and politely applauded, waving at his family and friends in the procession as they waved at us, until he passed. It was very moving, more so than I was expecting. There's something about a large crowd of chattering people suddenly growing silent, of traffic on one of DC's busiest streets giving way to cops on motorcycles and sleek black cars, of one car in particular signaling the end of an era and hopefully ushering in a new.