Teddy Kennedy's death is the end of an era, indeed
When John Kennedy was assassinated I was lucky to be editing a biweekly, four-page publication for Washington State University faculty and staff and wrote a piece I called "Homage to an Intellectual." I was otherwise employed, editing Northwest Science, when Bobby was murdered, and having only recently published a poem entitled "The Lotus Eaters" on the murder of Martin Luther King Jr., I wrote a Los Angeles poem -- for myself, as they say. And by the time I had been dwelling in Bemidji 20 years I was engaged in a work in progress, tentatively called "God's Amanuensis," when Teddy died.
In 1963 I was 25 years old; I am 70 now. The encomiums flow: the best are found on MSNBC, now that TV is repository of America's official reality. Though I do not watch Fox, still hoarding a principle or two even at my age, I would guess las derechas, like las izquierdas, mourn or celebrate Teddy's death by marking his burial as the "end of an era."
"End of an era" indeed ... The great Obama will celebrate now and in days to come the remarkable passage of time that marks the end of the first decade of the 21 century. I count myself among the blessed.