Ted Kennedy’s passing is the kind of event that makes me want to just park myself in front of the tube and take in the tributes and old news footage. The great speeches, the sad face at funerals, the neck brace after his greatest moral failure. Only to be punctuated by reading articles on line and in the paper. But as a mother one rarely gets to do that. But I did get a bit of it… yippee (hate to say yippee around a death, but there it is). Rex took the longest nap of his young life, and Vivien was happily playing at her neighbor friends.
Then I heard that Domminck Dunne died. Dunne and Kennedy seem so different, but they had a terrible common thread. Both of their lives were marked by the murder of at least one close family member. I always enjoyed reading Dunne’s essays in Vanity Fair. Great, compelling dish. His interest in court cases and crime took root because of his daughterÂ Dominique’s murder (and the short sentence given her boyfriend/killer). (Sidebar: My husband knew the man who killed Dunne’s daughter Dominique. They worked together many years ago. Which is a whole other weird tale of someone who can seem normal and then so thoroughly snap.)
Dunne will be Farrah to Ted Kennedy’s MJ though. The next week will be be dominated by Ted Kennedy’s passing. And of course it makes me think how his brothers would have lived to be gray-haired elder statesman as well if only…
photo credit: bradleygee
When I was eating up the Michael Jackson coverage I could simply say to Vivien, “He was a famous singer,” Â and she got that that was somehow special or important. Today when Vivien came home and was wanting my attention and I said, “But Vivien, one minute. Ted Kennedy died. He was a senator; his brother was a president.” I didn’t say, “His family was iconic, tragic, troubled, great, and we all wanted to be invited to the Compound.” Â I don’t think she would have gotten that.
But she has to learn one day.