Sincere And Yes, Classy

Despite years of bitter partisan attacks from the fat lecherous old drunk, the Bush style reminds us of how to treat one another.
Hope to learn this myself. Perhaps tomorrow.
Besides his personal call to the bereaved Vicki Kennedy:

George W. Bush said in a statement:
"Laura and I are saddened by the death of Sen. Ted Kennedy. We extend our condolences and prayers to Sen. Kennedy’s wife, Vicki, and all of their family.

Ted Kennedy spent more than half his life in the United States Senate. He was a man of passion who advocated fiercely for his convictions. I was pleased to work with Sen. Kennedy on legislation to raise standards in public schools, reform immigration and ensure dignity and fair treatment for Americans suffering from mental illness.

In a life filled with trials, Ted Kennedy never gave in to self-pity or despair. He maintained his optimistic spirit, his sense of humor and his faith in his fellow citizens. He loved his family and his country — and he served them until the end. He will be deeply missed."

Acoupla appropriate fibs, some tipping of the hat, a nod to the family; that's how to do it.

I Was So Tired

If you wade (yes) through the 8-foot deep NYTimes obit (no I won't link, find it yourself) you'll find the only thing that needs to be remembered:

The party, a liquor-soaked barbecue, was held at a rented cottage on Chappaquiddick Island, off Martha’s Vineyard. He left around midnight with Mary Jo Kopechne, 28, took a turn away from the ferry landing and drove the car off a narrow bridge on an isolated beach road. The car sank in eight feet of water, but he managed to escape. Miss Kopechne, a former campaign worker for Robert, drowned.

Mr. Kennedy did not report the accident to the authorities for almost 10 hours, explaining later that he had been so banged about by the crash that he had suffered a concussion, and that he had become so exhausted while trying to rescue Miss Kopechne that he had gone immediately to bed. A week later, he pleaded guilty to a charge of leaving the scene of an accident and was given a two-month suspended sentence.

Who can argue with fatigue?
As I always say, and as those who know me know, I live by the maxim: Any time can be nap time.
So what if the whoooooor can't breathe? Gotta sleep.

And yeah, you're right. P took me to Martha's Vineyard back in the 80's? 90's? Who can remember?
Daytrippin' road-trippers that we were, I said, "Let's find the bridge!"
Lifelong lib, P was not pleased with my focus, but she humored me, and we found the bridge, said our prayers. Mine for Mary Jo Kopechne, hers for the drunken Kennedy.
Ferried back to our rental car on the Cape, we motored to Ptown and back. Ho hum. How White Party. How seventies. How stoopid. How Roy Cohn. How Barney Frank. How east coast dune-fey. This ain't La Jolla. Not even Fire Island.
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Updatery:
And by the way, Miss Kopechne did not drown. She was left to asphyxiate. Here's the Other McCain reminding us of the truth:

It has often been written that Mary Jo Kopechne "drowned." She didn't. The cause of death was asphyxiation -- there was an air pocket inside the overturned car, and Mary Jo lived long enough to breathe the last remaining oxygen in that air pocket. And while Mary Jo was breathing her last . . . what did Ted Kennedy do?

Oh yeah, he took a nap. Thanks, TOMc.

Today I'm thinking of Miss Kopechne. Thinking of her parents. Sweet Jesus bless them today.
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One more? Okay. Waitress Sandwich.
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