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Fifty Years Ago Today, Bobby Kennedy Took His Final Journey

He meant so much to so many.

It was the end of something we still can't quite name, that awful day 50 years ago when Bobby Kennedy was killed by an assassin's bullet.

In a powerful piece (go read it all), Charles Pierce ends with this:

Ultimately, the great unknowable is whether the country would have taken the turns it took in the 1970s and 1980s, the dangerous detours that have brought us to our present moment, if there had been no guns in the kitchen that night. The reactionary forces against the gains of the Civil Rights Movement already were gathering force, and it’s not unreasonable to conclude that the Republicans would have formed their dark alliance with the remnants of American apartheid even more swiftly had Nixon been defeated by yet another Kennedy.

I would like to think that Robert Kennedy would have been able to stand against the foul gales that were then rising. I prefer to think that he would have, because I prefer to think of this country as perpetually redeemable. So many of our wounds are self-inflicted, and, by and large, through our history, we’ve at least made some good faith effort to heal them and to atone to ourselves for having inflicted them in the first place. That, ultimately, is what Robert Kennedy stood for and, alas, what he died for as well. Wisdom, through the awful grace of God.

Fifty years later, and we still tear up when we think of what could have been.

Didn't you love the things he stood for
Didn't he try to find some good for you and me

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