True story told by my Dad, who is now in a rest home at the age of 90: Some years ago, when my Dad still drove, he and my stepmother were out for a drive near Hyannisport and a car pulled up and they asked where the Kennedy compound was. My dad agreed to guide them there (it wasn’t far). A blind man got out and was led to the fence by others. He put one hand on the fence, as if he was touching something special, magical. He smiled and said, “OK, let’s go.”
That’s what the Kennedys mean to some people.
I have family members who worshiped the ground teddy walked on - they would vote for him no matter what - there was no reasoning with them - even tho ted was a murderer didn’t matter - he was “their ted” and he got their vote - they even watched the funeral with tears streaming down their faces - watched all the specials that followed with tears in their eyes - they spoke of him like he was a family member - I shudder at the thought.