Things happen and plans change. Ted Kennedy’s death, while certainly not a surprise, made me stop in my tracks for a few minutes… even after all of these years.

 

Most of what I’ve read over the past few days has been both thoughtful and respectful. Some of it has been personally critical, while some of it has been downright hateful.

 

Over the years, I’ve grown ambivalent towards the Senator in terms of what transpired 40-years ago.

 

I would never have voted for Ted Kennedy for President—at the time, there was just NO way. And, our opposing politics had relatively little to do with it.

 

Regardless, I’d like to present this as an alternative to some of the hateful writing I’ve read over the past few days.

 

Also, keep in mind that I knew Mary Jo Kopechne on a personal level. While I’ve rarely talked about it, those who know me WELL already knew this.

 

The first time I met Mary Jo was in 1962 at the Mission of St. Jude in Montgomery, Alabama. She was an older woman of 22; I was but a young lad of 20.

 

But, youthfulness notwithstanding, the two of us—she a confirmed, dyed-in-the-wool Democrat and I, a Republican wannabe, beamed forth with lofty ideals, both politically AND socially, even though I was not even old enough to vote—had to be 21-years old back then.

 

Trust me on this; smitten (emotionally, not physically) does not begin to describe her effect on me.

 

Luck is an integral part of success. No matter how smart we are and how hard we work, we ALL need a bit of luck to complete the journey. But two life domains are critical when it comes to our ultimate success at human interactions.

 

Not all of the luck in the world can compensate us if we fail in attaining at least a moderate degree of success in BOTH of them. I’m speaking about what psychologists and psychiatrists call the cognitive and affective domains.

 

The former refers to our technical abilities regarding those things that shape our daily lives, our ability to understand what we’re talking about… from the simplistic to the complex.

 

It also means understanding that life is far deeper in terms of trying to understand it than the political sound bite jockeys of the Fox, MSNBC, and CNN nations would like us to believe.

 

It also refers to our abilities to apply a scientific method to the way we approach our daily problems: financial, social, and political. And, it refers to how well we understand the difference between facts and speculations

 

The latter refers to our abilities in explaining our positions to others with an air of civility, how well we’re able to see perspectives other than our own, and how sincerely respectful we are of those other perspectives, even when those other perspectives are flat out bat-shit stupid by ALL reasonable tenets of normative reality.

 

Mary Jo Kopechne was the virtual personification of these virtues. She could calm a human storm of chaotic discord with a combination of an enchanting smile and a disarming air of understanding.

 

We stayed in touch via phone and letters in the ensuing years until early 1968—I was on a short rehabilitation leave from Viet Nam—when I ran into her in Washington, DC, outside of Robert Kennedy’s campaign headquarters.

 

She hadn’t changed a bit, except that she had grown even sunnier—if that was even possible—in addition to the fact that she seemed to demonstrate even more cognitive and affective wisdom than she did back in 1962.

 

And, from a Republican’s perspective (MINE), had she lived, I hold no doubts that she would have become a POSITIVE dominate force within the National Democratic Party.

 

But, as we all know, that changed forever on July 18, 1969. The news of her death was a gut-punch that knocked me to my knees so hard that, even to this day, I lack the words to describe its emotional impact.

 

I simply could NOT let it go. In late-November of 1969, I flew to Martha’s Vineyard, Massachusetts.

 

Questions about what had happened outnumbered answers by an easy ratio of ten to one. Once on Chappaquiddick Island, I drove a car over the same route as Senator Kennedy had done. The EXACT route. TWICE: once in daylight, the second trip at night.

 

I took the turn onto Dike Road that lead to Dike Bridge, the narrow wooden bridge with NO guardrails. The quickness with which that bridge appeared before me scared the hell out of me… in BROAD DAYLIGHT.

 

I returned and made the trip under the cover of darkness. The visibility on Dike Road at night, even with high beams, was awful. Even though I was not driving fast, Dike Bridge loomed before me out of the darkness before I could fully make it out for what it was!

 

Over the years, I’ve have acquired copies of every courtroom transcript, all of the coroners’ reports and declarations (there were two of consequence), every news clip, and every press release by all concerned parties, including those of Ted Kennedy.

 

After having been there and driven the same route, there was not a doubt in my mind as to the accidental nature of that incident. But, neither did I have any doubts as to his level of gross carelessness!

 

And, I didn’t accept ANY of his explanations about his state of “shock” and “confusion” regarding his reactions that awful night. And, for the record, I STILL don’t.

 

I’m convinced, after reviewing ALL of the credible evidence about it, that she remained alive and trapped in that sunken car for a sufficient amount of time that rescuers could have gotten her out alive had he swam that 500 feet to a telephone and called for help instead of what he did.

 

But, he didn’t and she died a horrible, frightful death. For years, I could not stand the sound of his voice or the mentioning of his name, let alone believe anything he said. But attitudes can change; mine included.

 

Life is random—the being born part, for SURE. There is no guaranteed safety, only varying degrees of danger, along with myriad ways of reducing the impact.

 

Neither is there a cosmic arbiter of justice, nor such a lofty condition as “fair.” In fact, the word does not appear in EITHER of our Bill of Rights or Constitution.

 

And, like it or not, our planet is just another glob of matter, ONE among countless others residing in an indifferent universe that is uncompelled to cater to human whims.

 

The Cosmos contains billions of galaxies, none of which, in the total picture as seen by the unaided human eye, is any more distinguishable from all the others than a single grain of sand is among trillions of other grains.

 

As far as we KNOW, outside of our OWN solar system, no one knows we exist or would even notice if we simply poofed out of existence.

 

We all live on this rock and we need to learn how to get along. Some people are perpetual creeps, the very definition of those sickening shivers in search of spines to go up. But MOST aren’t.

 

As a species, the human race has had fewer geniuses than our continuous parade of dolts and definitive morons. But—at least it seems so here in the United States—those guilty of sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity seem to have taken over. And, THESE are truly dangerous people.

 

No matter how insidious we are or appear to be, some of us change our ways, while others never do. And, in fairness to the late Senator, I’ve come to believe that he falls well into the former category.

 

He changed himself into a meaningful, effective member of the United States Senate. He was always an unapologetic Liberal, dedicated to the poorest among us; he never pretended otherwise.

 

Millions and I mean MILLIONS, will morn his death; some will not. And a few, like the spine-shivers that they are, will laud it. On balance, though, post-Chappaquiddick, I think his life’s ledger weighs substantially to the good.

 

The principled convictions of young people (18 through the mid to late 20s) tend to be inflexible positions SHOUTED to the “unknowing” from mountaintops.

 

By the mid-40s, the shouting drops a few decibels and those mountaintops have become lofty hilltops; they’re much easier to reach AND we’re not as sure of many of our once intractable convictions.

 

Suddenly, we’re staring into the face of our 60s and 70s with clogged arteries, high blood pressure, cataracts, and swollen prostates. Lofty hilltops are out of the question.

 

We lack the energy required to climb even SMALL hills. So we remain in the valleys and crevices, sometimes barely able to whisper what we THINK may still be true.

 

Alas, “Often wrong, always certain” has acquired real meaning in our lives. But still, the dummies will stay so cock-sure, while the wise remain ever so uncertain.

 

Mary Jo died 40-years ago this past July 18. I had just turned 27 the month before; she would have turned 29 eight-days after. And, you know, over the past 40-years, I can’t recall a single day during which I have not thought about her at some point.

 

The senator is dead; let it go!

 

Joe Walther is a freelance writer and publisher of The True Facts. You may comment on his column by clicking here.