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Rfk - Blog Posts
Yeah. On my bed. With a Bugs Bunny blanket. Yeaaaaaah.
Imagine finding your favorite historical figure sleeping in your own bed.
profile of grace
Well. I won't use watercolors, and I didn't want to use them. I don't have an art education, so... Yeah I know I have mistakes. I tried my best, with all my love, but damn... Bobby! You deserve better.
Just look! It's... I mean ... Uh, he's so cute!!
Bobby Kennedy, 1964
Fear not the path of Truth for the lack of People walking on it.
Damn, I would love to be outside that door!!
kiss-kiss
bye-bye
Portrait of Myself By Robert Francis Kennedy
“I am thirteen years old, and about five feet two inches tall, I have got a lot of freckles. I have Hazel eyes, and blond hair which is plenty hard to keep down because I have so many licks, and so much of it. I am not very fat, but fat enough. I weigh about one hundred pounds. I take about five and a half shoe. I have a pretty good character on the whole, but my temper is not too good. I am not jealous of anyone, I have got a very loud voice, and talk a lot, but sometimes my talk is not very interesting. I have quite good tastes for food, but there is a lot of things I don’t like at all for instence [sic] cabbage, fish pie, Brussels sprouts, colif flower [sic], and pears. I love almost everything, cholcet [sic]. I like the cinema very much, and go very often. I go to the theatre once and a while, and like it quite well. I like football, but I like American football much better. I don’t like cricket very much I like baseball a lot. Going swimming is one of my favorite sports. I like skiing one of the best, and I think I am the best at this sport out of all the thing I do. I can’t dive very well, but like it to a cirten [sic] exstant [sic]. I think this is a portrait of my self.”
—-
Bobby photographed with his father Joe on holiday in Eden Roc, France 1937.
Two types of Bobby Kennedy pictures
bobby sitting in his chair and never putting his damn feet on the floor
bobby being attacked by his children
“In August 1964, Robert F. Kennedy took the podium at the Democratic Convention in Atlantic City. Immediately, a roar of applause took the whole hall. The crowd wouldn't let him speak, they wouldn’t let go of him. He was the representation of what they had lost. If the delegates had a sense of loss, imagine what his feelings were. Every day, every hour, every minute, he felt the loss of his brother. The pandemonium went on for twenty-two long minutes. As the crowd finally grew quiet, he bared his grief, enshrining his brother in words from Romeo and Juliet. When he was finished speaking, he left the hall, sat on the fire escape, and wept.” • RFK: An American Experience
