Some of my earliest childhood memories revolve around the name Kennedy. I was born in the Dorchester neighborhood in the heart of Boston, which has long had Kennedy connections.

Because of the many problems caused by my highly dysfunctional, alcoholic parents, all my childhood was lived in abject poverty and frequent homelessness. Because of that, my older brother Jay, my younger sister Janice and myself were regularly dumped at the doorstep of my grandparents in Dorchester while our parents went missing in action.

Rather than a negative, those midnight drop offs became one of the major positives of my life. People in the neighborhood often described my grandparents as the “Ozzie and Harriet” of Dorchester (Google it, kids). Not only was it a warm, loving and protective environment, but for me, the epicenter of Boston politics.

My grandfather deeply admired John F. Kennedy and struck up a friendship with him when Kennedy was in the House of Representatives. Soon after — as he had emigrated to Boston from Nova Scotia — my grandfather created an unofficial group called “Canadians for Kennedy.” The absolute highlight for me was........

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