[Congressional Record Volume 141, Number 19 (Tuesday, January 31, 1995)]
[Senate]
[Pages S1802-S1803]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]


                       IN MEMORY OF ROSE KENNEDY

  Mr. KERRY. Mr. President, I rise to honor the memory of a woman and a 
mother from Massachusetts. Not just any woman, not just any mother, but 
a most extraordinary example of both.
  Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy's long life will be remembered by a grateful 
Nation as a legacy of parental strength and family leadership.
  To those of us who remember images of her campaigning with her sons, 
or mourning in quiet dignity, she shall always reflect a moment in time 
when we believed in ourselves, in our families, in our faith, and in 
our ability to survive.
  She lived through incredible victories and wrenching tragedies, but 
through it all her resolve, her deep religious devotion, and her 
profound belief in family and community, gave this Nation a vision of 
who we could be.
  To my generation she defined faith, courage, and dignity, and once 
said, ``A mother should be a bulwark of strength.'' And in her 
courageous response to sorrow, and in her reflections on how good life 
can be, and on how lucky we are, she was that bulwark of strength for 
all of us.
  During good times and bad times that touched the hearts and lives of 
every American, we looked to her for guidance and for a mother's 
perspective, and she gave us both.
  She set a standard of parental leadership that will live long after 
those of us lucky enough to have shared God's Earth with her are gone.
  I remember being invited to Hyannis, and meeting Rose Kennedy for the 
first time. And I remember being moved by her intensity and concern, by 
a warmth and graciousness that recalled a proud time when our belief in 
ourselves demanded that we accept what God has bestowed upon us, and 
that we bare the burden and share the bounty.
  Rose Kennedy was an extraordinary woman and mother. Now it is time we 
pay tribute to her for what she sacrificed for service to the 
community.
  Mr. President, I know I speak for every member of this institution 
and for the people of Massachusetts in offering my deepest and most 
sincere condolences to my friend and colleague, the senior Senator from 
Massachusetts, and the entire Kennedy family.
  I say to Senator Kennedy and to his family that we will always 
remember Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy, and that we are a better people for 
having had her among us for over a century.
  Thank you, Mr. President.
  Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that the eulogy delivered by 
the senior Senator from Massachusetts be printed in the Record.
  There being no objection, the eulogy was ordered to be printed in the 
Record, as follows:

                   Tribute to Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy

       On my office wall, there is a note from Mother, reacting to 
     a comment I once made in an interview. ``Dear Teddy,'' she 
     wrote in the note, ``I just saw a story in which you said: 
     `If I was President * * *'. You should have said, `If I were 
     President * * *', which is correct because it is a condition 
     contrary to fact.''
       Mother always thought her children should strive for the 
     highest place. But inside the family, with love and laughter, 
     she knew how to put each of us in our place. She was 
     ambitious not only for our success, but for our souls. From 
     our youth, we remember how, with effortless ease, she could 
     bandage a cut, dry a tear, recite, from memory the ``The 
     Midnight Ride of Paul Revere,'' and spot a hole in a sock 
     from a hundred yards away.
       She sustained us in the saddest times--by her faith in God, 
     which was the greatest gift she gave us--and by the strength 
     of her character, which was a combination of the sweetest 
     gentleness and the most tempered steel.
       She was indomitable for all her days. Each summer for many 
     years, we would gather `round at night, and sitting at the 
     piano, Mother would play ``Sweet Rosie O'Grady,'' the song 
     that became her own special ballad:

     Just around the corner of the
       street where I reside,
     There lives the cutest little girl
       that I have ever spied.
     Her name is Rosie O'Grady,
       and I don't mind telling you,
     That she's the sweetest little Rose
       the garden ever grew.
     I love sweet Rosie O'Grady,
       and Rosie O'Grady loves me.

       When she finished, her voice would lilt, and her eyes would 
     flash, and she would ask if we would like to hear it one more 
     time. And we always would.
       All her life, Mother also loved learning, and she was an 
     excellent student herself. We still have her report card from 
     Dorchester High School. In her 3 years there, she received 71 
     A's, 22 B's, and 1 C. I asked her about that C, which was in 
     geometry. She said there must be some mistake. She didn't 
     remember anything but A's.
       One spring some years ago, when she was in her nineties, I 
     took her on Good Friday to the Three Hours devotion. But the 
     nurse warned me in advance that Mother had to eat, so we 
     would have to leave after only an hour.
       At one o'clock, I whispered: ``Mother, it's time to go.'' 
     She looked at me and sternly said: ``Not yet, Teddy.'' So I 
     asked a second time, and her answer came in a tone that was 
     distinctly not a whisper: ``Teddy, the service is not over 
     yet.''
       By now, the congregation was discreetly staring at us and 
     clearly thinking: See, he's trying to get out of Church 
     early, but that sainted Mother of his--isn't she wonderful?--
     just won't let him.
       Later that night, of course, Mother and I said the Rosary, 
     as she did every night, by herself or with any of her 
     children or grandchildren who happened to be home. In the 
     Kennedy family, you learned the glorious Mysteries at an 
     early age.
       You learned just as early how to catch a pass, sail a boat 
     or serve a tennis ball. All her life, Mother was interested 
     in our games. The summer she turned 101, I went into her room 
     and showed her my tennis racket. She said, ``Are you sure 
     that's your racket, Teddy? I've been looking all over the 
     house for mine.''
       Jack once called her the glue that held the family 
     together. We learned a special bond of loyalty and affection, 
     which all of us first came to know in the deep and abiding 
     love that Mother shared with Dad for 57 years.
       From both of them together, we inherited a spirit that kept 
     all their children close to each other and to them. Whatever 
     any of us has done--whatever contribution we have made--
     begins and ends with Rose and Joseph Kennedy. For all of us, 
     Dad was the spark, and Mother was the light of our lives. He 
     was our greatest fan; she was our greatest teacher.
       She was born in 1890, the year of the Battle of Wounded 
     Knee, when Benjamin Harrison was in the White House. And she 
     never let us forget that she had lived so much of the history 
     that we only read about. Our dinner table was her classroom, 
     and the subject was the whole world of human events.
       One evening early in 1984, when mother was 93, she asked if 
     we thought President Reagan would run again. One of our 
     guests 
     [[Page S1803]] replied, ``Of course he'll run, Mrs. Kennedy. 
     After all, he's very young. He's only 73.'' Mother looked at 
     the guest for a second and then answered him with a twinkle 
     in her voice: ``You're just trying to flatter me. I know that 
     he's the oldest President in American history.'' Unless it 
     came from her, there was no blarney when Mother was around.
       So what now secures for Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy the high 
     place in history that she will have? I think it is most of 
     all the warm place she holds in the hearts of so many people 
     everywhere, from Boston to Dublin, from Berlin to New Delhi 
     to Buenos Aires. Millions who never met her sensed the kind 
     of rare and wondrous person she was, a shining example of the 
     faith that sustained her through even the hardest sorrow. She 
     had an inner strength that radiated from her life. She was a 
     symbol of family in this country and around the world.
       She cared for a retarded child as much as for the most 
     powerful statesman. She truly did believe that we are all, 
     royalty and disability alike, created in the image and 
     likeness of God.
       She was the granddaughter of immigrants who saw her father 
     become the first Irish-Catholic Congressman from Boston, and 
     her son and grandson succeed him. She saw three sons serve in 
     the Senate--actually she was sure that it was her campaigning 
     that put us there--and we all thought that as usual she was 
     right. She saw the son who proudly carried her Fitzgerald 
     name become the first Irish-Catholic President of the United 
     States.
       And she was just as proud to see a new generation of her 
     family carrying on her belief in public service.
       But Mother also taught us that you do not have to run for 
     office to make a difference. She was equally proud of her 
     daughters and the contributions they have made. Jean--the 
     founder of Very Special Arts and now, like our father before 
     her, the Ambassador. Pat, for the pioneering support she has 
     given to young writers. Eunice, founder of Special Olympics 
     and the leader of a global revolution of human rights for the 
     retarded and disabled.
       And Mother had a special place in her heart and prayers for 
     our sister Rosemary, for her bravery and the things she 
     taught us all.
       Mother gave not only to her children, but she gave her 
     children, fired with her own faith, to serve the Nation and 
     the earth. To us, she was the most beautiful Rose of all the 
     roses in the world. Her life shows us the truth and the way.
       Mother knew this day was coming, but she did not dread it. 
     She accepted and even welcomed it, not as a leaving, but as a 
     returning. She has gone to God. She is home. And at this 
     moment she is happily presiding at a heavenly table with both 
     of her Joes, with Jack and Kathleen, with Bobby and David.
       And as she did all our lives, whether it was when I walked 
     back through the rain from school as a child, or when a 
     President who was her son came back to Hyannis Port, she will 
     be there ready to welcome the rest of us home someday. Of 
     this I have no doubt, for as they were from the beginning, 
     Mother's prayers will continue to be more than enough to 
     bring us through.
       Not long ago, I found a beautiful poem that symbolizes what 
     all of us feel today. Its title is ``The Rose Still Grows 
     Beyond the Wall:''

     Near a shady wall a rose once grew,
       Budded and blossomed in God's free light,
     Watered and fed by morning dew,
       Shedding its sweetness day and night.

     As it grew and blossomed fair and tall,
       Slowly rising to loftier height,
     It came to a crevice in the wall,
       Through which there shone a beam of light.

     Onward it crept with added strength,
       With never a thought of fear or pride.
     It followed the light through the crevice's length
       And unfolded itself on the other side.
     The light, the dew, the broadening view
       Were found the same as they were before;
     And it lost itself in beauties new,
       Breathing its fragrance more and more.

     Shall claim of death cause us to grieve,
       And make our courage faint or fail?
     Nay! Let us faith and hope receive;
       The rose still grows beyond the wall,

     Scattering fragrance far and wide,
       Just as it did in days of yore,
     Just as it did on the other side,
       Just as it will for evermore.
     

                          ____________________