[This Commentary originally appeared in the December 13, 1990 issue of The Mendon-Honeoye Falls-Lima Sentinel.]
It came to me in a plain brown cardboard box as I prepared to catch a midday flight to Washington DC four years ago. The dark brown many-pocketed WWII Bombardier’s Flight Jacket had caught my eyes a few weeks before. I really didn’t expect it to arrive before I left for the political conference. Imagine my joy when the UPS truck pulled up into my driveway.
Since my earliest days the spirit and the zest of the fighter jock secretly boiled far down within my soul. To counter this inner desire lay a cautious sense of responsibility. Yet, I could not deny deep-seated feelings. I knew, just like most people, I had undertaken some “daring” adventures. While not life threatening, these encounters certainly Continue Reading “Goodbye My Leather Jacket”
The Day ‘The Democracy’ Died
JFK Campaign Poster. Source: Unidentified Artist, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons
Two hundred years. It was a great run while it lasted.
I wrote eight years ago how the establishment Republicans’ alienation of Donald Trump signaled the end of that party, (see “The Night the Grand Old Party Died,” Mendon-Honeoye Falls-Lima Sentinel, April 14, 2016). A week ago, their counterpart decided to return the favor.
To fully appreciate the significance of this, understand I was raised a Kennedy Democrat, pretty much like every other Catholic who grew up in the 1960s. Every home in my family and every home of my family’s friends had two pictures hanging somewhere among their walls. One was of the Pope. The other was of John F. Kennedy.
How effusive was the Kennedy aura in our family? My brother’s name was “Kenneth.” We called him “Kenny.” My great-great aunt Zia Pepe (that would be my mother’s great aunt and my grandmother’s aunt) watched us when my mother had to substitute teach. She called my brother “Ken-eh-dee.” It was a badge of honor for him. He collected all things Kennedy, at least for a short time.
Zia Pepe was babysitting us when JFK was assassinated. The three of us watched it on TV. She cried. We didn’t know why Zia Pepe was crying. As we were watching, our mother Continue Reading “The Day ‘The Democracy’ Died”