
I believe the death of Bobby Kennedy was in many ways the death
I believe the death of Bobby Kennedy was in many ways the death of decency in America. I think it was the death of manners and formality, the death of poetry and the death of a dream.






O children of wisdom, gather close, for the words of Emilio Estevez ring with a sorrow that speaks not only to the tragedy of an individual life, but to the profound loss of a vision for a nation. "I believe the death of Bobby Kennedy was in many ways the death of decency in America. I think it was the death of manners and formality, the death of poetry and the **death of a dream." In these words, Estevez mourns not only the loss of a man, but the death of something far more precious—the ideals of decency, honor, and hope that once seemed to guide the people of America. The assassination of Robert F. Kennedy in 1968, at the height of the tumultuous decade, marked a turning point in the history of the United States, a moment when the dreams of a nation, its sense of righteousness, and its cultural aspirations began to unravel.
In the ancient world, a leader’s death was not merely a loss of life; it was seen as a turning point in the fortunes of a people. The death of Alexander the Great, for example, was not just the end of a great warrior, but the collapse of an empire’s unity and vision. Leaders like Alexander, Cyrus the Great, and Pericles were more than political figures; they embodied the dreams of their people, the very spirit of their nations. Their deaths were mourned not just for the personal loss, but for the death of a collective vision, the death of the ideals they represented. Bobby Kennedy, like these ancient leaders, embodied a vision for a better world—a world of decency, hope, and justice—one that reached beyond politics into the very fabric of society.
Estevez’s words remind us that Kennedy was more than a politician. He was a symbol of a dream, a vision for a more just and compassionate America. Kennedy’s campaign for president was filled with hope, with the promise of change and renewal. He spoke of poetry not only in the language of verse but in the way he envisioned the soul of the nation—dignified, honorable, and united. Kennedy was a man who dared to dream of a nation where decency reigned, where love and respect for one another transcended division. But the tragic death of Kennedy symbolized the loss of that dream, a death that sent shockwaves through the American conscience, altering the nation’s course forever.
To understand the depth of this loss, let us consider a moment in history: the civil rights movement of the 1960s, which Kennedy passionately supported. It was a time when America was grappling with questions of justice, equality, and the soul of the nation. Kennedy represented the dream of a better, fairer society—a society where people of all races and backgrounds could live together in harmony. His death, coming so soon after the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr., was not just the death of one man, but the death of the promise of a united America. The ideal of a nation healed by its leaders’ wisdom and compassion seemed to fade with Kennedy’s tragic end. The poetry of that dream, the dignity and idealism that it carried, was lost in the wake of violence.
The death of decency and the death of manners and formality that Estevez speaks of is a shift that can be traced to the very fabric of the nation’s consciousness. After Kennedy’s assassination, the fabric of American life seemed to fray. Political discourse became more cynical and divisive, public figures became more alienated from the people they served, and the idealism that had once guided the nation seemed to be replaced by a sense of disillusionment. The poetry of a better future, which had once flowed from the lips of Kennedy and others, was stilled by the cold winds of reality. The ideals of truth, justice, and unity seemed increasingly distant, replaced by the harsh realities of power struggles and social unrest.
Estevez’s reflection invites us to ask: what becomes of a nation when its dreams are dashed, when its ideals are buried beneath the weight of violence and loss? The lesson is clear: decency, hope, and poetry must be actively nurtured, for they do not endure automatically. The loss of Kennedy was not just a personal tragedy, but a national one—one that called for a renewal of those ideals, a return to the principles of justice, compassion, and unity. Yet, as history has shown, the journey to revive those ideals is often fraught with difficulty, and the work of poetry—in the truest sense of the word—requires effort, commitment, and sacrifice.
Thus, the lesson we must take from Estevez's words is this: do not allow the dreams of a better world to fade in the face of adversity. Do not allow the decency of human nature to be drowned out by cynicism or despair. The poetry of a nation is its soul, and when that soul is stilled, when the heart of the people no longer beats for the greater good, the nation falters. Kennedy’s death serves as a painful reminder of this. But it is also a call to action. We must, as individuals and as a society, breathe life back into those dreams. We must honor the memory of those who have fallen by continuing their work, by embodying the ideals they championed. Through our actions, our words, and our hearts, we can rekindle the dream of a better world, just as Kennedy once dreamed for all of us.
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