A Late Arrival from Camelot

As may have been mentioned,

Kennedy was a Catholic,

and my mom perhaps revered him

for that reason,

or maybe for a lot of reasons,

as she was twenty-one

the year he was assassinated,

and had once sewn a robe

for him, and how many people

can say that?

And anyway

she never forgot

her fascination

with him

but in later years

found it difficult

to forgive him

his weaknesses

(which, all told,

was not very Catholic

of her).

But here I am

and I have all these memories

of these important people

in my life,

and they remain

intertwined,

sort of imbedded

in stone,

the bedrock

of my life.

I could think of worse things.