My senator, Ted Kennedy

What kind of Massachusetts liberal would I be if I let the day pass without a few thoughts. Lots has already been said, and I've been surprised at just how positive and sad the coverage of Edward Kennedy's death has been. No matter how we try to explain it away, public mourning is always about ourselves, not the man or the family or the times. And Ted's death comes just at a moment when there is so much to be worried about. So I'll leave it to others to eulogize the great national tragedies that have cut so close to him, or the many personal ones that he bounded over in the course of a career of dedicated service. All I can think about is how far we've sunk, and for what. I'm thinking of the tea-baggers, and the birthers, and the Town-Hallers. About the legions of white men nursing delusional grievances about how women and minorities are out to get them. Or all those folks who suffer from inadequate educations, and can articulate nothing beyond parroting how we must stop "these Nazi socialists from taking over health care and messing up Medicare." These increasingly loud and obnoxious folks who have allowed themselves to believe it is appropriate and kick-ass to bring assault weapons to public policy forums. There are two things that have struck with me throughout the day. The first is the way the Ted and the entire Kennedy clan were able to cut through this fog, and make these people see their interests clearly, and inspire them to think beyond hate and greed and toward a better future. For Ted, this was a skill he learned from his grandfather, the great Irish ward-heeler and Boston mayor John Francis "Honey Fitz" Fitzgerald. The Democratic Party has completely lost this skill. You don't need to look far to see why. Just check-out the Times OpEd page today, where Maureen Dowd approvingly drops in passing the following repugnant stink-bomb from Leon Wieseltier of the New Republic: "The Internet is like closing time at a blue-collar bar in Boston. Everyone’s drunk and ugly and they’re going to pass out in a few minutes.” Here's the thing: these same wretched proles way down there under Wieseltier and Dowd's noses weren't the vanguard of the Reagan revolution. They were for decades the core of Ted's support. And it is no mean feat that they stuck with him through a lot -- from Chappaquiddick, through busing, through all the drunken embarrassments. Whatever his personal problems may have been, politically he was usually right, and he was able to persuade the people who voted for him that he was -- whether against invading Iraq, supporting a sensible and fair immigration policy, or rejecting the hateful "Defense of Marriage Act." Unlike the wealthy today, Ted was raised with the belief that if you were born in the right place and the right time, that you actually owed your country an awful lot. He served his constituents well, and without condescending to them. It doesn't seem that hard to figure out, so I'm having a very hard time trying to figure out why his death should mark the end of an era. The second thing that's been on my mind is what Ted's life says about the real spirit of bipartisanship. It came through loud and clear listening Sen. Orrin Hatch try to stifle a sob talking about his old friend on the radio today. Here is the big secret about compromise: you have to actually have principles before you can start negotiating them away. You have to believe in more than maximizing your chances to be reelected for another term, and can't try to pass off as real values a pile of triangulated, Mark Penn market-tested centrist bullshit ginned up by the Democratic Leadership Council. There's no shame in being a liberal, especially now.