A Human Passing

I can't help but feel some sadness today about the passing of Edward Kennedy. Yes, I know how problematic his personal life was -- scandal, bad choices and the tragic death of a young woman. But he also had a brilliant career in the Senate, sponsoring or co-sponsoring thousands of pieces of legislation. He was widely respected for his ability to stick to his ideals without demonizing the "other side."

I don't know for sure, but I can guess that he was somewhat the black sheep of the family when his famous brothers were alive. But it turns out he left the most tangible legacy and our country is on the verge of passing legislation he has been championing for longer than I've been alive.

And I'm no spring chicken.

I've been thinking a lot in the past year about the way we move through our lives; the way we feel and experience them. Someone once told me that we can only understand something through its opposite. So is it only possible to experience love through tragedy? Because boy, oh boy, that family has had more than its fair share, through both their own actions and through unseen forces.

I'd like to think that we don't need tragedy to have love but I am quite sure that they are not the same thing. In the late 1980s, I went to a Kurt Vonnegut lecture at Miami University. He drew graphs of the plot lines of mainstream fiction -- boy meets girl (middle), boy and girl fall in love (spike), boy loses girl (dip), boy wins girl back (back to middle). He gave several funny variations, including boy turns into cockroach at the end. But his point was that we are all pretty much living that middle line. We may have our little bumps, but for the most part we just muddle through without the spikes and dips.

I suppose that was sort of existential of him, but I appreciate what he said. I think of it often when I find myself being sucked into, or even fabricating, the highs and lows that can distract me from the mundane. That's one reason I love to keep a journal: it keeps me honest, it keeps me genuine and it helps me stay focused on the important parts of life. My life in all its ordinariness is plenty for me to handle, and having a safe home for my words at Women Writing for (a) Change makes all the difference in the world.

Back to Teddy Kennedy -- his story is appealing, even fascinating. It's a magnified look at our own flaws and tragedy. His family has sometimes seemed cursed and there are elements of redemption.

He could almost be a character in one of those books Vonnegut disliked. But at the end of the day, he worked for social justice and was a great orator. He was human.

I heard this quote from him today on NPR's Morning Edition:

"The future will out live us all, but we will live on in what we make of our future."

It was a perfect quote to hear on my way into the office, reminding me of the important work we do -- the words we leave behind in our anthologies, the lives we touch with our stories and the legacy we are leaving for our daughters.