Stateside: Kennedy funeral

A big fat tear rolled down my cheek at the end of Sen. Edward Kennedy’s funeral mass this morning. The local CBS station carried the events leading up to the service, and the service itself, live from 8 am until it ended at 10 minutes after 10, and I learned a lot of new things from the broadcast.

For example, I’d never even heard of the Book of Wisdom, which was the source of the first reading. I looked for it in vain in my St. James version of the Holy Bible and found it not. Turns out it’s part of the Apocrypha, which aren’t included in Protestant bibles. It’s a mystery to me why the Protestant Bible includes the Song of Solomon—one of the raunchiest bits of biblical literature—but not the Wisdom of Solomon, as these verses purport to be.

However, the tear wasn’t inspired by the words spoken about Ted Kennedy, of whom I’ve never been a big fan. The tear was brought on by the sight of him going to his Maker in an oak casket while the nation goes to hell in a handbasket, with the choir and citizenry singing “America The Beautiful” as it happens.

Massachusetts native Katharine Lee Bates, who wrote the poem that would become the national song—and which many would prefer as the national anthem instead of the war-referencing “Star-Spangled Banner”—also wrote these words:

What! No gift for this poor garret? Take a sunset sash and wear it/O'er the rags, my pale-faced lassie, till thy father smiles again./He's a poet, but — oh, cruel! he has neither light nor fuel./Here's a fallen star to write by, and a music-box of rain.

The words are part of a long children’s poem called “Goody Santa Claus”, which might well describe how the nation’s liberals view the late Senator. On the morning he died, the San Francisco Chronicle late edition carried a banner across the top of the front page with brief details and a thumbnail photo of Ted Kennedy. At a stop light, on my bus to work early in the morning, I noticed a woman come out of a coffee shop with her daily $4 hit of caffeine and pause at a newspaper dispenser to read what the banner said.

With her index finger, she traced the outline of the photo on the glass, underlined it, and then tapped the image with her finger, the way you might tap someone you love on the nose or lips as a show of affection. Also present in this little street scene were an elderly man begging for change—which she declined to give—and a crippled man bumming a cigarette off a raggedy guy who was seated on a nearby bench. He had better luck.

Actually, the Goody Santa Claus referred to in Bates’s poem is Mrs. Santa Claus, but this post isn’t going on that particular sleigh ride. Instead, it’s prompted by my wide-eyed wonder that commentators and pundits can talk admiringly about how long Ted Kennedy was in the Senate, striving all along to get health care for everyone and in 45 years still couldn’t get it done! To me, that’s just a stark example of what a failed version of democracy the United States has warped into.

The reason that lobbyists—both for-profit and non-profit—have so much sway in DC is because they’re classed as “individuals” in the US tax code, and therefore have the right to petition Congress and contribute to campaigns. Do away with that bit of chicanery, which dates from the industrialization era of U.S. history, and you’d go a long way to fixing the broken electoral system. Anyone with half a brain can see that, and if Kennedy had put his mind to it, that vital change could have happened. But instead, he chose to push the same old, same old levers to elevate himself at the same time he empowered the very forces he purported to be working against.

Anyways, it was a somewhat bizarre church service—when the priests blessed the wafers and the wine, tinkly music played that sounded for all the world like the sound effect used in Disney cartoons to indicate the Fairy Godmother, or some other unreal being, has performed magic. Vicki, the widow, snubbed Michelle Obama during the opening meet and greet—a favor that was returned by Barack Obama not pulling out the tucked-up skirt of the cloth covering the casket, even though it was within arm’s reach of him. Someone from the family side of the aisle had to get up and walk over and do it.

Then there were the altar men. One—who at first I thought was a woman—was always in shot wearing a beatific look worthy of someone in the presence of actual greatness. Two other chappies looked like they were on early release from prison, and another two had big beards reminiscent of cartoon images of terrorism suspects.

Which just goes to show you how prone I am to make judgments merely based on appearances, I suppose. And of course it doesn’t help that I don’t see any merit in an institution that prides itself on having gold chalices to serve its blood of Christ in. If he but had a grave, Jesus would surely be turning in it! For all the pious spouting of scriptures to do with “the least among you” and the touting of the Good Deeds the dearly departed supposedly did, the least they could have done was serve the wine in a plastic cup from the local county hospital.

But we knew it was all going to be Disneyland from the moment the guests arrived in coaches emblazoned with the words Peter Pan on the side. (And on Michael Jackson’s birthday, too!) Even the CBS commentator referred to the attendees as “the cast”. Well, who among them will be the next Senator from Massachusetts? His widow perhaps? She looks ready to run. Mitt Romney? Kennnedy’s niece, Maria Shriver?

But no, I doubt it will be Maria. This coming week in a Congressional district over the hill from where I live in Oakland, there is a special election and the person in the lead to win it is the current Lieutenant Governor of California. If he wins, then Arnold Schwarzenegger gets to appoint his successor. Maybe he’ll do the Kirchners-of-Argentina thing and appoint his wife!

Whoever he appoints will gain a big advantage in next year’s gubernatorial election in California, simply because of the name recognition such an appointment guarantees. Who knows? Given that he’s a Republican and would like to inflict the most discomfort possible on Democrats, Schwarzenegger will no doubt choose someone who’ll have to vacate a seat in one chamber or the other in Washington, and he’d do the most damage by choosing a senator.

So while many in California can’t afford light or fuel, and have to wear a sunset sash to brighten up their rags, the powerful on both coasts of this nation still have our future in their humonetarian hands, and we get to cheer ourselves up listening to a music box of rain.

--PEACE—

rosalea.barker@gmail.com

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