[solemn brass music]
- They opened the door,
and the Senator was talking on the phone.
He put down the phone and says, "Come on in, boys."
You could tell when he was looking at you
that he's not looking through you;
he's taking you into account.
And I remember walking out of there like I was ten feet tall.
The next day, he had his victory speech,
so they came down the service elevator,
which is behind the kitchen.
I remember extending my hand as far as I could
and then I remember him shaking my hand.
And as he let go, somebody shot him.
[gunshots]
I kneeled down to him and put my hand
between the cold concrete and his head
just to make him comfortable.
I could see his lips moving,
so I put my ear next to his lips,
and I heard him say, "Is everybody okay?"
I said, "Yes, everybody's okay."
I could feel a steady stream of blood coming through my fingers.
I had a rosary in my shirt pocket,
and I took it out,
thinking that he would need it a lot more than me.
I wrapped it around his right hand,
and then they wheeled him away.
The next day, I decided to go to school.
I didn't want to think about it,
but this woman was reading the newspaper,
and you could see my picture in there
with the Senator on the floor.
She turned around and showed me the picture.
She says, "This is you, isn't it?"
And, uh, I remember looking at my hands,
and there was dried blood in between my nails.
Then I received bags of letters addressed to the busboy.
There was a couple of angry letters.
One of them even went as far as to say that,
"If he hadn't stopped to shake your hand,
the Senator would have been alive,"
so I should be ashamed of myself
for being so selfish.
It's been a long 50 years, and I still get emotional;
uh, tears come out.
But I went to visit his grave in 2010.
I felt like I needed to ask Kennedy to forgive me
for not being able to stop those bullets
from harming him.
And I felt like, you know, it would be a sign of respect
to buy a suit.
I'd never owned a suit in my life.
And so, when I wore the suit
and I stood in front of his grave,
I felt, uh, a little bit like that first day
that I...that I met him.
I felt important...
I felt American...
and I felt good.
["The Temperature of the Air on the Bow of the Kaleetan" by Chris Zabriskie]