a story for Ted Kennedy

In August 1980 my parents went to the Democratic National Convention. As I remember the story (for of course, I wasn't there, exactly), my father had gone up and down the streets of Philadelphia that summer to collect signatures. He collected enough to become an alternate delegate for Edward M. Kennedy.

According to legend, it was desperately hot in New York, and my mother spent the whole convention nauseated. I don't imagine that a packed Madison Square Garden, at the height of summer, is a good place to be when suffering morning sickness.

I only know this story from hearing it told. But Ted Kennedy is still somehow linked to my life, and it's very strange to hear that he is dead.