Jean

I honestly can’t keep up. So much stuff keeps happening.

I recently saw that Jean Kennedy Smith passed away at the age of 92. Jean was the last surviving sibling of John F. Kennedy. She was U.S. ambassador to Ireland in the 1990s and played a pivotal role in the Northern Irish peace process. As with the death of the former Burundian president, Jean’s death is one of those things that resonates with me a bit more than some others since I have a connection.

I’ve known about Jean for quite some time. In addition to the fact that she was a member of a famous family, and was famous in her own right, she was also a staunch supporter of the organization I work for. In fact she was on the Board of Directors for a long time. But the first I met her was in November 2012 in New York. She hosted a dinner for a couple of my colleagues and me at a restaurant near her home in Manhattan.

Why would I get a chance to have dinner with her? There’s no doubt that Jean had a fascinating, and sometimes tragic, life. Over the years she increasingly became focused on her support for humanitarian causes, particularly with the disabled. Though she maintained a lower profile that much of the rest of her family, she was keenly aware that her notoriety could be used to make a difference. Through some acquaintances she became involved with our organization, first as a donor and eventually serving on the board. In that capacity, she said that she felt that it was important to stay connected with the work being carried out in the 42 or so countries where we have a presence. One way to do that was through personal connections with those “on the ground”. Inviting us to dinner while we were in town for meetings was one way to do that.

I was working in Burundi at the time, one of the poorest countries on earth. Over the years I’ve made regular trips to the US to attend meetings at our headquarters in New York and periodically travel to Washington DC to some advocacy work on Capitol Hill and with US funding agencies. During the times when my job would involve spending a lot of time visiting projects in poor and/or remote areas and talking with beneficiaries, many of whom were suffering the effects of abject poverty, it was always a sort of whiplash to suddenly find myself at a fundraising gala at the Waldorf Astoria or meeting White House staff regarding US policy in East Africa. A chance to have dinner with the former US ambassador and sister of John F. Kennedy was one of those moments. I have to say, the breadth of experience that my job provides me is a richness that I try never to take for granted.

That morning I was given the name of the restaurant, the address and the time we were to meet. When in Manhattan I make it a point to walk wherever I go, even if my destination is dozens of blocks away. I was staying at The Benjamin, an old hotel on 50^th Street, one of my favorite places to stay when I’m in the city. I looked at the map and realized that I would have quite a walk ahead of me. I wasn’t so worried about the fact that I would be wearing a suit and tie so much as I was concerned about the beating my feet would take from walking a long distance in dress shoes. So I threw the nice shoes in a small backpack, laced up my running shoes and off I went.

The Benjamin

Given that it was November, the air was chilly and I was able to avoid working up a sweat by the time I arrived at the restaurant. I was early but I thought I’d go in anyway and wait inside. Like so many New York restaurants, the place was packed, noisy and a bit stuffy. The hostess greeted me as I walked in and I told her who I was meeting. She pointed me to an older guy who was sort of a caricature of the stereotype Italian waiter (I found out later that he was the manager). In a thick NY accent he told me to follow him. We weaved our way towards the back of the restaurant to a private room. As we walked he welcomed me to the restaurant, told me about how the Kennedy family was near and dear to him and told me that if I needed anything, just to let him know. I never get that sort of treatment in a NY restaurant so my assumption was that he probably thought I was someone important if I was meeting with one of the Kennedys. I didn’t want to do anything to spoil this false impression.

Even though her married surname was Smith, the manager kept referring to her as Mrs. Kennedy. Turns out that the room where we would be dining had seen its share of famous people over the years as the family regularly hosted small dinners there. But it wasn’t one of those restaurants that plasters its walls with photos of all the celebrities that have dined there. It was low-key, not crazy expensive and, in addition to serving wonderful Italian food, they were an attractive option for the Kennedys because they could slip in and out without drawing attention to themselves. The manager told me that Mrs. Kennedy was running a bit late, that I should order a drink and that she would be taking care of everything this evening.

Soon my colleagues would appear and not long afterwards Jean arrived. She apologized for being late, stating that she couldn’t blame it on traffic since her residence was just around the corner. The first thing I noticed about her was that when she was talking with you, her eyes would lock onto you as if whatever you were saying was of particular importance, even if it wasn’t. It may have been something she picked up as an ambassador but whatever the reason, it’s a pleasing thing to feel that the other person is engaged in what you’re saying.

After the pleasantries and introductions the conversation shifted to politics. The 2012 US presidential election was in its last days (Obama would be victorious in his re-election bid over his Republican challenger, Mitt Romney). She entertained a few questions about discussions she’d had with various politicians and other important people over the previous weeks. She talked about Mitt’s relationship with her brother Ted who had passed away three years earlier. Her interest was not only as a woman from a deeply political family but also because Romney was well known to them as governor of their home state of Massachusetts. It became quickly apparent, however, that Jean didn’t want to do the talking. She said clearly that she wanted hear from us: “The reason I invited you was to hear about what you are doing in your respective countries. You are the gladiators of this organization and it’s important for me to learn more about what you are doing.”

I do think it says a lot about her. Here is this woman – one of the most interesting people any of us had ever met (honored by President Obama with the Presidential Medal of Freedom the year before, the highest civilian honor in the US) and she was intent on pushing the conversation towards us. And she was sincere in what she was saying. For most of the evening she listened to us talk about the work that we were doing in our various countries. She asked good questions and wanted to know more about the drivers of the conflicts and the things that were creating the humanitarian needs that we were addressing. She would stop briefly and ask us how we liked the food, making sure that our glasses were topped up and say how the place had been a favorite in her family for years (she knew all the wait staff by their first names). But quickly she would get back on topic, exploring common threads between our contexts with a particular interest in connections to her experiences in supporting the disabled.

I was truly sad to see the evening come to an end. But after a yummy tiramisu and an espresso, we wrapped things up. As we started to make our way for the door I walked beside her and thanked her again for hosting the dinner. I (semi) jokingly told her that we needed to have dinner again and I could ask the questions the next time. She smiled and said she would love that. I then asked if I could have a quick photo with her. She elbowed me as she said something about never passing up a photo op with a handsome man 😊. I quickly took out my phone and handed it to a nearby waiter to take the photo. Jean immediately asked to see it. With a furrowed brow she said, “That won’t do.” She told the bartender to our left to move over so she could have a glance at herself in the mirror behind the bar. After making some small adjustments she said, “Let’s do that again.” The waiter obliged. She looked at the second photo, shrugged her shoulders and said, “That’ll have to work. We can’t take pictures all night.” I gave her a hug and headed on my way. Once around the corner from the restaurant, I slipped out of my dress shoes and back into my running shoes for the long walk back to the hotel. The air was crisp but it was good to be outside.

I saw Jean a few times after that, normally at large events. She was always very gracious but we weren’t ever able to speak for any length of time after that initial dinner. I’m sad to see her go but happy to have known her.

“I don't know what your destiny will be, but one thing I do know: the only ones among you who will be really happy are those who have sought and found how to serve.” -Albert Schweitzer, philosopher, physician, musician, Nobel laureate (1875-1965)