Remembering Ted Sorensen

When I first joined the Council on Foreign Relations, I was in my mid-30s and knew nothing and no one. The reason I was fortunate enough to get into the organization was the sponsorship of some very kind folks who had more faith in me than was warranted. Notable among these was the late Bill Colby, the former CIA director, who was the guy who encouraged me to try to join in the first place, offered great counsel and support and to whom I will always be grateful.

He was the first but not the last of an exceptional group of very well established foreign policy community leaders who made it a practice to reach out to and be supportive of younger people who they thought showed some promise. Another of those gracious and encouraging individuals died yesterday. That, of course, was Ted Sorensen. I will never forget the several times that he took the time to sit down and talk with me, to give advice, to share stories.

Of course, as someone who was seven years old when Kennedy was assassinated, the tales of his administration were as remote and legendary to me as the Camelot that gave them their name. But Sorensen was accessible, kind, and wise. He joked easily and was always encouraging. The fact that once upon a time, he offered vital counsel to a president at a fateful moment in our country’s history or that many of the words best associated with that president originated in Sorensen’s brain seemed a bit dizzying to a young wannabe like me and, yet, listening to him, completely plausible.

Later in life, I would learn that many men and women who are especially accomplished achieve a certain kind of calm — almost preternatural in nature — that comes from something gained in the course of their experiences. It’s not so much self-confidence or self-satisfaction as it is simply having risen to great challenges and knowing it — not intellectually but viscerally. It expresses itself as grace.

Sorensen will be missed for these reasons by many as much as he will be by the public at large for his service and the memories he helped create. It is a particular irony that the loss of this man, who put the promise of an entire generation into words, comes at a time when the latest in a long line of presidents to be inspired by his efforts seems to have lost his voice. But perhaps in contemplating the loss of Ted Sorensen in conjunction with the losses he will suffer at the polls on Tuesday, President Obama might be reminded that inspiration is not only possible amidst dark moments, it is especially essential. To my mind John F. Kennedy was a bit of a mixed bag as president. But he made an extraordinary contribution, capturing — in collaboration with Sorensen — the American spirit and reframing it in terms that would motivate a new generation. It is an example Obama must emulate or he will be passed over by yet another rising generation in dire need of getting back in touch with America’s promise.  As Sorensen would have advised and as his work underscored, that message of inspiration cannot pander but rather must force listeners to look inward — as suggested by the single most indelible phrase that Sorensen via Kennedy left to history: Ask not what their country can do for them but what they can do for their country.