On the overpass at Exit 3

I happened to be coming south on Route 3, after a morning spent at the dentist in Boston, and noticed the traffic becoming surprisingly sluggish around 1 p.m., as I passed through Norwell, over the North River and into Marshfield. At Exit 12 I saw what I thought was the reason, an accident of some sort on the other side of the highway. I muttered to myself ‘just a bunch of rubber-neckers’, and I pressed down involuntarily on the gas. But then it hit me: those cars in the grass of the cloverleaf, at Exit 11, were too orderly. There were more than a half dozen and instead, of facing north, as you might expect after a fender bender, they were fully in the grass and pointed out, towards the roadway. And – what the heck, some of the people were sitting in chairs, and clutching small American flags. I had an excuse: Novocain, in large quantities, was still affecting my mouth and lip and, apparently, my brain. But the reality finally made it through. The motorcade with Senator Kennedy and his family, coming from Hyannis port, must have been due to pass by, on its way to Boston. Still feeling a feint throbbing in my gums however, I dismissed the idea of stopping myself. All I wanted to do was get home, take a few more pills, and tune out. But as I drove south the crowds were building, on the overpasses, filling the access road that wraps around the McDonalds at Exit 5, and in most other places with a good vantage point from which to watch. By the time I reached my exit – three, I felt it would have been disrespectful to ignore this historic gathering. It was about 1:10 then, and already the overpass at Exit 3 was crowded with cars and people. For some reason though, one space was left – practically right in the middle of the bridge, and I parked right there and joined the crowd. Part of the reason for the space was that a large white banner put there by local resident Jessica Laverty – that read, “Thank you Senator Kennedy”, blocked the view of the highway below. Nearby a portable radio relayed the not unexpected news that the procession had yet to leave the Senators’ Hyannis port home. Scheduled for 1 p.m., it was probably closer to 2:30 before they actually departed. In the meantime, waiting on the bridge with a crowd that grew larger with every minute, I tried to get a sense of the mood of the crowd. Maureen Bradley had driven over from her home in Middleboro. Though the new Route 44 would have been the easiest route for her, she opted to work her way through Carver and into Myles Standish State Forest, then onto Long Pond Road – guessing correctly that the nearby overpass at Exit 3 would present a good vantage point to watch the Senator go by on his way to Boston, and to the Kennedy Museum. “The Senator has been a part of my life, of all our lives,” Maureen responded, when asked why she was standing on the overpass on this day. “I’ve been a Massachusetts resident all of my life, and I can hardly remember when Senator Kennedy was not my Senator.” Hollis Phillips was there, with her brother Chris (both from West Plymouth), and with her sister Barbara (Kunit) who happened to be visiting from her home in New York, and like many others on the overpass, she admitted to feeling a close connection with Senator Kennedy. “My dad (longtime Bourne Democrat William Phillips) actually worked on several of Senator Kennedy’s campaigns,” Phillips remembered, adding, “and he’s been my Senator for my entire life.” Her father didn’t approve of her registering as an Independent, she remarked, but “he would definitely be happy that I’m here today.” She remembered a day long ago when she and her sister Barbara were on a swing set in Marston Mills, when the Secret Service told them they had to move. Seems the swing set overlooked a paddock where Caroline Kennedy – the President’s daughter, boarded her horse. “It’s the end of an era,” Hollis said wistfully. Frank Ridge was there on the bridge, with his wife Lois, having driven the short distance from their home in the Pinehills. When asked why he had stopped, Ridge first pointed to his baseball cap, which displayed the insignia of the famed U.S. Army’ First Calvary division. “I was in Vietnam with the First, in ’68 and ’69,” Ridge said. But then he went on to recount several personal memories of the Senator, beginning in the early Sixties when he was President of the Senior Class of Sacred Heart High School in Weymouth. They visited Washington D.C. and the Senator joined them for a picture. “Because I was President of my class, I got to stand right next to him,” Ridge fondly remembers. Later Ridge and his wife were given a special tour of the Capitol, had lunch in the Senate dining room, and were escorted into the Senate itself when, unexpectedly, Kennedy surprised everyone by coming on to the floor and delivering a rousing speech. “The Restaurant lobby wanted a new regulation that would have reclassified short order cooks under the same category as chefs,” Ridge remembered. “That sounds good, but that would have made them management, and therefore, ineligible for overtime pay. Senator Kennedy got up and literally roared his opposition.” Ridge said he was afraid that Ted Kennedy was the last of his kind. “This is a tremendous loss for all of us. Now I don’t know who is left there that’s going to speak for the little guy.” Beneath the bridge latecomers had found their own vantage point – the highway itself. And when tag-teams of motorcycle police closed down the highway at the ramps, they began to move toward the center of the road, forming almost a gauntlet of well wishers. Then, just minutes before the hearse and a dozen or so assorted vehicles – including one Peter Pan bus appeared, a final squad of State Troopers forced those along the highway to retreat to the other side of the guard rails. Then, under a steady rain of applause and the unremarkable ticking of digital cameras, the Senator - as if headed to one of his favorite restaurants in Boston one last time, passed underneath Clark Road with his family in tow.