Honoring The Kennedys: Carrying the Memory Forward

Friday, November 22, 2024, marks the sixty first anniversary of President John F. Kennedy’s assassination. On this solemn date, many will revisit the tragedy that stunned a nation. For my part, I wanted to reflect not on loss, but on remembrance, on the small ways I have tried to carry forward the memory of President Kennedy and his family.

Gifts and Acquisitions:

In early June, I broke a five-month book buying pause when I came across a 40th Anniversary edition of PT 109: John F. Kennedy in World War II by Robert J. Donovan. It was an inexpensive purchase, but meaningful, as it connected me to the story that first introduced Kennedy to national fame. The book now rests on my designated Kennedy shelf, waiting for the day I turn to it for study or reflection.

A few months later, a friend I will call “Jackie” surprised me with a gift: a hardcover copy of Make Gentle the Life of This World: The Vision of Robert F. Kennedy, edited by Maxwell Taylor Kennedy.

To honor both her kindness and Robert Kennedy’s legacy, I brought the book to several Massachusetts sites connected to him: his birthplace in Brookline, Harvard Stadium where he once played football, and the JFK Library exhibit that recreates his Attorney General’s office. 

On November 20, Robert Kennedy’s ninety ninth birthday, I shared those photographs on Instagram as a gesture of thanks and remembrance.

In September, another friend discovered a vinyl record, John Fitzgerald Kennedy 1917-1963: A Memorial Album, at a flea market in Utah.

She sent it to me unasked, knowing it belonged in my collection. Though I do not own a record player, the album sits as a cherished artifact on my shelf, one I plan to display more prominently in the future.

Acts of Remembrance:

This autumn also brought an opportunity for a different kind of remembrance. On October 10, Ethel Kennedy, widow of Robert F. Kennedy, passed away at the age of 96. My friend Jackie shared with me that the JFK Hyannis Museum had invited the public to sign a condolence book in her honor.

Instead of traveling to Hyannis, I went to the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library in Boston, arriving just before closing.

There, on a quiet table, stood a vase of flowers, a framed photograph of Mrs. Kennedy from 1968, and the condolence guestbook.

I added my name and a few words, knowing I might be the last to sign that day. It was a small act, but one that felt necessary. I would have regretted not going. In leaving my signature, I felt I had offered a gesture of gratitude to a woman who had lived through triumph and tragedy, and whose memory deserves to endure.

A New Project:

Earlier this month, I found inspiration in the work of Thomas Duke, known online as @steppingthroughfilm, who matches film stills with their present-day locations.

I began at Holyhood Cemetery, where Joseph P. Kennedy Sr. and Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy are buried. Standing among the stones, I held up archival images, aligning past and present in a single frame. The act was simple, but powerful, a way of making history visible, alive, and connected to our own time.

As I continue this project, I want to emphasize joy and vitality, not only mourning. The Kennedys knew tragedy, but they also embodied energy, motion, and vision. My hope is to start with images that capture those qualities, so that this act of remembrance begins in celebration of life.

Looking Ahead:

Individually, these gestures may seem small: receiving a book, visiting a gravesite, signing a condolence guestbook. But together they form a quiet thread of remembrance. They remind me that legacies are not carried forward by grand gestures alone, but by the steady accumulation of meaningful acts.

In the year ahead, I plan to continue this work: to visit more sites, create more photo pairings, and keep learning about the Kennedys beyond what the history books record. By doing so, I hope to honor their memory not only through artifacts, but through active engagement with the places and stories they left behind.

To close, I return to the words President Kennedy prepared for delivery on November 22, 1963, words that still speak to the responsibility of remembrance and action:

“We in this country, in this generation, are by destiny rather than choice the watchmen on the walls of world freedom. We ask, therefore, that we may be worthy of our power and responsibility, that we may exercise our strength with wisdom and restraint, and that we may achieve in our time and for all time the ancient vision of ‘peace on earth, good will toward men.’”

These words remind me why remembering matters. To carry memory forward is not only to honor the past, but also to prepare ourselves to live worthily in the present.

Unfinished Stories: JFK Jr. & Reflections at Thirty-Eight

On July 16, 2024, the nation marked the twenty fifth anniversary of the plane crash that took the life of John F. Kennedy Jr, along with his wife, Carolyn, and her sister, Lauren Bessette. The day was filled with tributes and speculation about the unfinished life of the man often called “America’s Prince.” For me, the date carried an added weight. July 16, 1999, was also my thirteenth birthday.

I do not remember my birthday that year. What I do remember is sitting in front of the television on Saturday evening as news coverage filled the airwaves. The plane had gone missing. At thirteen, I clung to the hope that Kennedy and his passengers were waiting to be rescued. But as the days passed, that hope evaporated. When the wreckage was found, the truth settled in: all three were gone.

At the time, I did not understand the depth of the grief. My peers were silent. The adults around me carried on. The loss felt distant, like something sad but far removed from my world. I knew little about John Jr himself, except that he was the son of a famous president and a fixture on magazine covers at the supermarket checkout line. I even wondered if he might run for president one day. But the tragedy did not pierce me then in the way it does now.

This summer, I returned to the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum. I did not take photos or linger over artifacts. Instead, I sat quietly in the Pavilion, looking out at the ocean, and let my mind wander. John F. Kennedy Jr was thirty-eight when he died. I am thirty-eight now. He was known around the world. I am known by almost no one. At first, I struggled to see what, if anything, we shared. Then I realized: what binds us is not fame, but the unfinished nature of our stories.

Kennedy Jr’s life ended mid-sentence. He left no gravesite, only ashes scattered into the Atlantic. My connection to him has always been from afar, shaped by photographs, interviews, and the collective memory of a nation. I have crossed paths with some of his relatives, including Jean Kennedy Smith, Joe Kennedy III, and Mark Shriver, but I never asked them about him. It would have felt intrusive, as though their private memories could be distilled into a casual answer.

When I look back now at old interviews, I notice something I missed as a teenager: a sadness in his eyes. In one conversation with Larry King, the host remarked, “So, it’s good to be a son of a legend.” Kennedy’s face tightened almost imperceptibly before he replied, “I mean, it’s complicated and makes for a rich and complicated life, so… but that’s, I think, the puzzle to figure out in my life.” It was not the voice of a man basking in a compliment, but of someone carrying the weight of expectation, loss, and constant scrutiny.

And now here I stand, the same age he was when he died. At thirteen, thirty eight seemed impossibly old, an age when I assumed people had already become who they were meant to be. Living it now, I know better. There are still ambitions unrealized, questions unanswered, and chapters unwritten. I wonder if he felt the same.

His story ended before it could find resolution. Mine, for now, continues. As Martin Luther King Jr once said, “Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place.” I would like that too. But more than length, I want my life to carry meaning. Kennedy Jr may not have had time to write the full story he hoped to, but he seemed determined to contribute something worthwhile. That is what I want as well.

Being the same age he was when his life ended forces me to see time differently. It reminds me that years are never guaranteed, and that the difference between a wish and a legacy is action. That action is still mine to take.

So, I will keep writing my story while I can, not just on the page, but in the way I spend my days and the way I treat others. One day, my story too will be complete. When it is, I hope it reads as a life lived with courage, curiosity, and heart. That, I think, would be enough.

To conclude this entry, I want to close with John F. Kennedy Jr’s own words from an interview with Larry King, words that reveal the complexity of his life and the way he carried the weight of history and family:

KING: Now, when you look at him, John, you look at your father, and you must see him all the time. I mean, you see him everywhere. You see him in tapes and visions, and on cameras and at Democratic Conventions. He is everywhere. You did not know him, know him, right? How do you look at him? Is he my father? A president? A great man? My family? What is the association?

KENNEDY: I think it is complicated. And I think that you see it in a variety of ways. I mean, I understand that my father is part of the mythology of this country, and he was also a very compelling political figure. And I think, you know, you can certainly, certainly he was aware, himself, of the opportunities for politics to be both fun and serious. And that is one of the things that we have tried to, that mix. I mean, if there is, you know, bits and pieces of family history which go into creating something, you know, on my end, that is part of it.

Remembering Dave Francis Powers – Another Kennedy Pilgrimage

Today is 61st Anniversary of President John F. Kennedy’s fourth and final day of his official visit to his ancestral homeland of Ireland. Before departing the country, he remarked, “This is not the land of my birth, but it is the land for which I hold the greatest affection and I certainly will come back in the springtime.”

Little did President Kennedy know that he would never again set foot on the soil of his ancestral homeland. Only four months and twenty-six days later, he was killed by an assassin’s bullet in Dallas, Texas. According to page 1028 in “A Thousand Days: John F. Kennedy in the White House” by Arthur M. Schlesinger Jr, “In Ireland, ‘Ah, they cried the rain down that night,’ said a Fitzgerald of Limerick; he would not come back in the springtime.”

There was one man who was riding in the presidential motorcade on that fateful day in Dallas, who had also traveled with President Kennedy to Ireland months earlier. His name was David Francis Powers, special assistant to the president. 

He said of the president’s visit to Ireland:

“He was overwhelmed by the greeting. It was just a from the time he stepped off that plane, it was love at first sight. He fell in love with Ireland more and more after four days and the Irish people fell in love with him and the thing that he we talked about writing on the plane, we talked about at that summer out in the boat in July and August relaxing and you know he says he wanted Jackie [Kennedy] didn't make the trip and every time we're together, he said, ‘tell it tell Jackie more about Ireland. How the nuns were dancing on O'Connell Street and about the wonderful Irish ladies holding up rosary beads and saying God bless you and the men with their children on their shoulders. You know and it was such a proud day on it because he was one of theirs and he knew it and they knew it.”

My own words cannot describe the amount of love the people of Ireland had for him and for that same love he had for them. That is why I needed to use the words of Mr. Powers, who had known John F. Kennedy since 1946. 

I should note that this blog entry is not entirely about Kennedy's visit to Ireland on this anniversary. In this entry, I want to pay tribute to Mr. Powers for his friendship and service to President Kennedy and to document my journey to his final resting place at Mount Pleasant Cemetery in Arlington, Massachusetts. Because of the anniversary of John F. Kennedy's final day in Ireland and to honor Mr. Power's participation in that same visit and his own Irish heritage, I wanted to visit the place where he is laid to rest on this unique anniversary.

Who was Dave Francis Powers? My own feeble words cannot tell of his story. However, on the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum's website, there is a section called "Dave Powers, First Museum Curator," which tells of his story in a far more superior way to any manner that I could express here. I want to encourage anyone that is interested, to click on the link I have provided to learn more about Mr. Powers and his contributions to the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum and in preserving the memory of President Kennedy for future generations.

I can only attempt to briefly summarize what I know about Mr. Powers. By the time he met John F. Kennedy in 1946, Dave Powers was an unemployed former veteran of the second world war at the age of thirty-three. He was living in Charlestown, Massachusetts with his sister when on the evening of January 21, 1946, he met another veteran of the same war, a young twenty-eight-year-old naval hero named John F. Kennedy who was running for congress that same year. 

“I saw this tall thin handsome fellow,” he said in an interview conducted on January 30, 1964. “He put out his hand and said, ‘I'm Jack Kennedy and I am a candidate for Congress will you help me,’ and he came in and sat down and we discussed the type of district it was. It was a three-decker Irish district and most of the men earn their living as longshoremen and freight analysts, truck drivers, and a laboring group but a great you know god-fearing group of people that if they were with you, they are all the way.” 

It was the beginning of a great friendship and a unique relationship that would change Mr. Powers' life.

For the next seventeen years, ten months, and one day (which was to be for the rest of John Kennedy's life), David Powers would be a front row witness to history as he campaigned with his friend in every single political contest that Kennedy entered in. I thought it was remarkable that he witnessed Kennedy's first political speech in Boston and his very last speech in Texas. After Kennedy was elected President of the United States in 1960, Powers was appointed his special assistant. His responsibilities included "greeting distinguished guests, escorting them to the Oval Office and trying to keep the President on schedule."

After President Kennedy's death in 1963, he became the first curator of the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum and would serve in that position until his retirement thirty years later. During his time as curator, he would visit and lecture at schools all over the country, recounting his time with Kennedy, and even co-wrote a book called "Johnny, We Hardly Knew Ye," which is "a personal and nostalgic look at President Kennedy's life." On March 27, 1998, David Francis Powers passed away at the exact age of eighty-five years, eleven months, and two days. He was twenty-nine days short of reaching his eighty sixth birthday. Since Mr. Powers had an "amazing memory for sports and election statistics," I think he would have appreciated the sharing of the statistics of his longevity.

In learning about his life, I discovered that Mr. Powers was laid to rest at Mount Pleasant Cemetery at Arlington, Massachusetts, about three miles from where I currently reside. At this point, I had already visited the final resting places of President Kennedy’s ancestors, parents, one of his sisters, three of his nephews, a niece, national security advisor, political rival, and a court historian just last year. I found myself regretting that I had not paid a visit Mr. Powers' final resting place earlier, especially since I live nearby without realizing it. Now that I know, I have resolved to make this pilgrimage on this day.

This morning, I woke up exceedingly early, but I took time in getting ready for the journey as that would be the only task that I would complete for the day. After noting that time of the bus schedules for the arrival and the return journey, I then had a large breakfast, and got ready for day. Although it was scheduled to rain tomorrow, I still brought my backpack with an umbrella, rain jacket, and water bottle with ice for hydration. I also brought a hardcover first edition copy of "Johnny, We Hardly Knew Ye," which Mr. Powers co-wrote to read on the bus to pass the time. I also had it wrapped a plastic bag to protect it in case it rained. 

It was 67 degrees when I left the house at 9:00 in the morning to begin the journey. It was still cloudy outside, which made me concerned that it might rain. In either case, I was prepared. At 9:24, the bus arrived at the bus stop six minutes ahead of the schedule. I got on, paid for my fare and sat down. I thought about reading Mr. Powers' book, but then thought against it as I did not print out any directions (the printer is not working). I had to rely on my memory. Within several minutes, I arrived at the front entrance of Mount Pleasant Cemetery at 9:30.

At I was dropped off at the corner entrance of the cemetery and this is where I began to set off on foot to Mr. Power's final resting place. 

Since I had to rely on my memory, I walked according to what I have remembered seeing on the map.

I soon crossed the bridge over the brook that led into the section of the cemetery where he was located. 

Once there, I found myself searching in vain and could not find it. I respectfully asked three people that were passing by if I was in the right section, they said they didn't know. The third person mentioned that there was a large map of the cemetery on display where the chapel and offices were located, and I could check there. I thanked her and made my way over to where a large bulletin board was situated outside of the building holding the offices and chapel.

I looked over the large map on the bulletin board. I was in the correct section, but I needed to look more closely. 

I knew he was there. I was in the right cemetery, and I was in the right section, I just needed to find him. I went back to try again.

The website said he located in Section VV, but I could not recall the plot number and I thought maybe I was in the wrong section that is perhaps it the letter W instead. Since I was using a flip phone with no internet access, I called a college friend to search on my behalf. When he did not answer, I reluctantly called my sister to ask if she could look up the coordinates on her internet. She looked and confirmed that he was in Section VV and told me that the plot number was 859. She even sent me a text with an image of the map as indicated by findagrave.com. 

I thanked for her for her time and returned to my search. I searched for a few more minutes until finally, at 10:55 this morning, I found the final resting place of David Francis Powers.

It was covered with freshly cut sprigs of grass, which covered much of the letters. So much so that I did not see his name. I could not allow this. This man was a public servant who made significant contributions to the United States. I got on my knees and quickly cleared away the sprigs of grass off of the gravestone, so I could read his marker clearly. 

Here he was at last. I finally found him after one hour and twenty-five minutes of searching. I took my copy of his book that he wrote out of my backpack and took some more photos, which I will upload when creating a social media post to honor his memory at some point in the near future.

During the time that I was there, I began to think about the remarkable life this man had. He truly was a witness to history. He was there. He was at the Inauguration of John F. Kennedy on January 20, 1961, in the cold where he saw his friend, the newly sworn in president speak to the country and to the world, declaring in now immortal words resounding through time:   

"And so, my fellow Americans: ask not what your country can do for you--ask what you can do for your country.

My fellow citizens of the world: ask not what America will do for you, but what together we can do for the freedom of man."

He worked at The White House and was a witness to President Kennedy's best and worst moments. He traveled to many places across the nation and in different countries all over the world. He also had to accompany the body of the slain president back to the nation's capital in Washington and also took time to help care for President Kennedy’s children for some time following the assassination.

President Kennedy's daughter, Caroline, remarked after he passed that "Dave Powers was a loyal and devoted friend whom my mother and father adored. I will always be grateful for his personal kindness and for his tireless efforts on behalf of the Kennedy Library." She, along with her uncle Senator Edward M. Kennedy, Aunt Eunice Kennedy Shriver, and her brother John F. Kennedy, Jr. all attended Mr. Powers' funeral service at St Catherine's Church on April 1, 1998. 

John F. Kennedy, Jr., the son of the slain president, would survive Mr. Powers by one year, three months, and twenty days. He would pass into history of July 16, 1999, at the age of thirty-eight.

When Mr. Powers passed into history in 1998, I was eleven years old. I was too young to know who he was and did not learn of him until years later. I began to wonder if I had been born earlier, if I ever had the chance to meet with Mr. Powers at the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum, I would have relished the opportunity. I would have loved to have had a one-on-one conversation at length about anything he would want to talk about, though I would prefer he would tell me stories about John F. Kennedy. It would have felt like I was speaking with JFK himself.

I stayed at Mr. Powers' gravesite for a total of 41 minutes. I wanted to rest my feet after walking for so long. After gathering what I needed to take with me for the return journey, I soon left the cemetery and the bus arrived after fourteen minutes of waiting at 12:22 in the afternoon. The returning bus could only take me part of the way since it was headed toward Lechmere Station. I got off at the corner of Boston Avenue and Winthrop Street and walked the rest of the way to place where I reside. It was 1:08 in the afternoon when I returned, and it was 73 degrees. I immediately turned on my laptop computer to write about Mr. Powers and to chronicle my journey to his final resting place while it was still fresh within my mind.

Overall, I'm glad I made the time to take the journey. I have been inspired to visit the final resting places of all the officials that were a part of John F. Kennedy's administration as well as the rest of his siblings, the president himself, and of his wife and even her family. It is a daunting task, but it is doable. I hope to be able to document each of these discoveries and more of the people in Kennedy’s circle. My vision is to share their stories as I make these discoveries through these pilgrimages. I hope that I plan to do will bring honor to memory of the men and women who served in the Kennedy administration and answered his call to public service for the one thousand and thirty-six days that he was in office.

To conclude this blog entry, I typically share a quote as I have on most of my blog entries. Whenever Mr. Powers would end a lecture about his friendship with President Kennedy, he would often cite a quote from a poem by Thomas Davis.

"We are like sheep without a shepherd

When the snow shuts out the sky

Oh! Why did you leave us,

Why did you die?"

After seeing this, I wanted to conclude this blog entry with something more uplifting. After some consideration, I have chosen to share some words that President Kennedy delivered before departing his ancestral homeland sixty-one years ago today and Mr. Powers would have been a witness as these words were spoken to the people assembled to hear. This is only a small portion of his remarks at Eyre Square in Galway, Ireland on June 29, 1963:

"I want to express--as we are about to leave here--to you of this country how much this visit has meant. It is strange that so many years could pass and so many generations pass and still some of us who came on this trip could come home and--here to Ireland--and feel ourselves at home and not feel ourselves in a strange country, but feel ourselves among neighbors, even though we are separated by generations, by time, and by thousands of miles.

You send us home covered with gifts which we can barely carry, but most of all you send us home with the warmest memories of you and of your country.

So, I must say that though other days may not be so bright as we look toward the future, the brightest days will continue to be those in which we visited you here in Ireland.

If you ever come to America, come to Washington, and tell them, if they wonder who you are at the gate, that you come from Galway. The word will be out and when you do, it will be "Cead Mile Failte," which means 'one hundred thousand welcomes!'

Thank you and goodbye."