Did Senator Ted Kennedy have a sliver of a decent bone in his body after all?
So indicates his memoirs, according to a new article from CNS News:
Sen. Edward M. Kennedy wrote in a memoir being published this month that he made terrible decisions after the 1969 car crash that killed Mary Jo Kopechne, but said he was never romantically involved with her and was haunted by that night for his entire life.
Yeah, Kennedy sounded all broke up over that, from what I’ve heard in other places.
Newsweek’s Ed Klein (told interviewer) Katty Kay about Kennedy’s love of humor. How the late senator loved to hear and tell Chappaquiddick jokes, and was always eager to know if anyone had heard any new ones.
Always eager to hear new jokes about the place where a woman died while in his care? Sounds “haunted” to me.
Klein says in that article that this was supposedly Kennedy’s way of displaying self-depreciation. In what universe is that?
I cannot imagine how anyone with even a small amount of light in their soul could carry on this way.
Nearly 20 years ago while on an ice fishing trip, a friend of mine fell through the ice one night. As it happened, the only people nearby other than he and I were his wife and son (who was about 10 or something like that); the other guys in our fishing party were on the north side of the lake, some distance away. I should also note that the ambient temperature was somewhere between zero and 10 degrees from what I recall, and unlike Ted Kennedy I cannot swim. Nevertheless I got as close to my friend as I could on my stomach to distribute the weight across the ice, but had to stop a good 15 feet or so away when the ice beneath me cracked and water splashed up against my chest and stomach. For 10-15 minutes or so (which felt like forever), with the help of my friend’s wife and son throwing things to me from shore, I tried to get something out to him to pull him out of the water (my parka pants and coat tied together, a coiled extension cord frozen stiff as a board, etc.) to no avail. I could only watch as my friend succumbed to hypothermia and slipped below the waters after begging me not to let him die.
You know, after nearly 20 years, just thinking about that incident makes my heart pound. There was nothing more I could have done, yet I can’t shake the regret that somehow I didn’t come up with some way to get him out. I think if I heard someone joke about that incident anywhere around me, I’d come completely unglued on them.
And Ted Kennedy “loved to hear and tell” jokes about the death of this woman who drowned in the car he drove off a bridge? Kennedy was “always eager” to hear new ones? Even if he had felt some need for self-depreciation (that never made itself known in any other area of his life), joking about this woman’s death is the height of disrespect toward her and those who loved her.
In my lifetime, I’ve encountered a handful of people whom I believe had empty, dark souls. And while I have known since my teen years what a reprobate Ted Kennedy was, I wouldn’t have guessed this kind of heartlessness about him.
My list of soulless people just got longer by one.
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