The Aspen Chapter: New Years With Team Kennedy
Family Traditions, Energetic Billionaires at Midnight, Resolutions Conquered, Patriotic Tramp Tattoos Exposed During Lunch at The Sun Deck On A New Year
“I Like The Dreams of The Future Better Than the History of the Past.” —Thomas Jefferson
I changed my mind probably 8 times before finally committing to this Aspen excursion. Initially, I was looking forward to a campaign excuse to examine this winter haven where wealthy liberal elite and fur-clad celebrities flock together for New Year's, but by the end of December, like everyone else, I was depleted by holiday obligations overlapping with nonstop work and travel.
The day after Christmas, all momentum dissolved, and old anxieties kicked in. I started stressing about the snowy mountain drive. Sloping mountain cliffs are one of a few lingering phobias I've yet to kick. A lazy week in pajamas sounded like an ideal alternative; skipping a daunting mountain chapter, I told myself, was a luxury I had earned. I could use some downtime.
But then, out of nowhere, Mike came home with a brand new four-wheel-drive truck (motivated mainly by a 6,000 lb vehicle tax deduction) and, with it, a new excuse to brave rugged terrain. Once weather reports cleared and the chance of snowfall disappeared from the forecast, we scrambled to get everything together the night before and headed out for Colorado with Denise and her husband James at dawn. The four of us embraced a 13-hour car drive to break in a new truck and welcome a new year alongside the Kennedy team in a town I had read and wondered about for decades, thanks to the lasting imprint of Hunter S. Thompson.
The Aspen of today differs significantly from the Aspen I have long romanticized. It was the old rebel folklore that hooked me as a teenager, particularly the stories detailing the unhinged antics of the 1970s and 1980s, when Nicholson, Hopper, and other friends of Thompson ruled the town.
RFK Jr.’s stake in Aspen harkens back to the glory days. Much of his campaign cornerstones echo (albeit in steadier manner) many of the same theories that Thompson amplified. How depressing to think the death of the American dream is mourned more poetically by stumping politicians like Kennedy than by paid writers tasked with reflecting current culture, who seem completely oblivious to how dark times have gotten. Journalists today underestimate the rage festering in middle class America. Legacy media has succumbed to overly sanitized perspectives that offer little relief or insight for anyone who has been “red-pilled” over the past four years and lost faith in just about every major institution as a result. Who do we look to now like we did Thompson, to translate the horrors and injustices? Have popular podcasters replaced our poets? They seem to be the only ones pushing a significant portion of society to think outside the box the way literature used to, but it’s still a male-dominated space. Moderate voices of disenfranchised women and mothers are still sorely underrepresented in this arena.
As for Aspen, it might be under a slight rebrand, but it's always been a playground for the upper crust. In its heyday, it provided a celebrated haven for beautiful freaks — a chaotic carnival of misfits, writers, cynics, rebels, and eccentrics who flocked like moths to Thompson, fueled by adrenaline, homemade explosives, and copious amounts of psychedelics. Mass wealth tinged with mania. Under Thompson's reign, Aspen transformed into a vortex of counterculture, where ski enthusiasts collided with locals who harbored disdain for the status quo.
At the center of this kaleidoscope, Thompson ultimately proved himself a worthy politician. Freak Power spread with fervor during Hunter's infamous 1970 run for mayor. His mantra railed against the establishment in an effort to “keep the city clean, affordable, and weird.”
RFK Jr.’s oldest son, Bobby III, made a film about it in 2021.
"He was the first person I ever fired a gun with," Kennedy told The Denver Post, adding that Thompson and his father were longtime friends.
Fear and Loathing in Aspen offered an intimate look into how Thompson's persona shaped his politics. His campaign sought to demilitarize police, eradicate America's racial and class disparities, and, like Kennedy, he was dead set on cleaning up the environment. Both Bobby III’s wife, Amaryllis Fox, and Cheryl Hines starred in the film.
"We're in a historical echo right now," Kennedy said in the interview. "If Thompson had won his run for sheriff of Pitkin County, maybe something would have changed, or we would have taken up some of his ideas. Cops making war on citizens and journalists is not a new thing in America.”
"Politics is the art of controlling your environment, and Hunter knew that," he added. "In that way, I'm glad this turned out as an independent film instead of a studio feature. I also think the ghost of Hunter S. Thompson might have beaten my ass had I done that to him."
"Why not challenge the establishment with a candidate they've never heard of? Who has never been primed or prepped or greased for public office? And whose lifestyle is already so weird that the idea of 'conversion' would never occur to him?” — HST
On the drive up, I scoured the Internet first for photos of Hunter then vintage Aspen fashion standouts.
The verdict? Melanie Griffith and Goldie Hawn are the reigning queens of ski style. Throughout decades, their snow looks remain unmatched (save for maybe Ivanka Trump in extravagant neon snowsuits and platinum hair piled high in the 90s). In recent images, Melanie Griffith remains captivating, draped in a floor-length white fur coat, cigarette pressed firmly between her lips on a street corner. She’s waiting for Goldie Hawn to exit a coffee shop with Kurt Russell, looking every bit the authentically aged mountain man in a wide brim hat, raring to get home and build a fire. Goldie and Kurt’s long standing romance, I would say, is accentuated by their effortlessly complementary wardrobe selections. Somehow, the more they put on, the better they look. They've always stood out as the "real deal" in Hollywood, aesthetically and romantically; they are the rare exception.
Aspen Elite
“You will only understand why it's so popular with the ultra-rich once you go to Aspen,” an online follower explained in my comments.
Nestled within the pristine embrace of the Rocky Mountains, Aspen, Colorado, provides an opulent escape for the uber-rich. Currently, it's listed as the world's most expensive ski town. With its snow-kissed peaks and evergreen forests, it offers a majestic backdrop for global snowbirds, young celebrities wanting to be seen, aged starlets not wanting to be forgotten, billionaires, influencers, and professional skiers alike. Downtown luxury chalets and upscale boutiques line the streets. Exclusivity is part of the allure. Everything from the private clubs to the name-brand shops and $20 smoothies is meant to make you feel like you don't belong — if, in fact, you don't.
“First, it's exclusive. Aspen is a tiny town, 6,000 (full-time) residents. That means no one cares how much money you have, you can stand in line at a coffee shop, and you don't know if the person in front of you is a lift operator or a dot-com gazillionaire. More importantly, though, no one cares. Second, Aspen is an amazing place; it's a combination of arts and culture (The Aspen Music Festival, The Aspen Institute, Aspen Food and Wine Festival, etc), perfect weather (75–85 in the summer with no humidity, no rain, no bugs), tons of outdoor activities, privacy, great dining, the list goes on and on. If you look at where the ultra-rich are coming from — New York, Texas, and California — it's the polar opposite. Everything you could want. Plus, they have a great little airport 3 miles from town that can accommodate anything smaller than a Gulfstream G6.”
— Random (but great) summary in comments
If you make it to one of the sky bars in town, champagne flows like a river, and people are drunk by mid-day after their morning slope runs. Wardrobe is flashy, but in a peculiar sense — it’s notably more difficult to flaunt status swallowed in layers. Too often, the challenge results in furry brand-name boots and cashmere sweaters that spell out "après-ski" across the front to remind you that this winter hobby combines lifestyle and sport.
"Rich people shit," as Whitney Cummings likes to say.
Après-Ski
“Après-ski is a French term that translates literally to ‘after ski’ or ‘after skiing.’ The phrase was made popular in the Alps during the 1950s rise of commercial skiing, and today, après-ski is an umbrella term for popular post-ski activities. It can refer to champagne toasts on slopeside terraces in Chamonix, France, as well as kicking back around a firepit with a couple of craft beers in Breckenridge, Colorado.
There’s no official time frame for ‘après-ski,’ though it usually starts in late afternoon — say, around 4 pm after the ‘last run’ of the day (pro tip: never call it your last run, it’s bad luck) — and can keep going well past dinner. Nightclubs in ski-heavy parts of Austria have been known to party until 6 am. Think of it as a happy hour of sorts, one that has the potential to last late into the night. While après-ski customs and culture vary from place to place — ski resort atmospheres can run the gamut from laid back to ultra posh — it’s common for your snow gear to double as après-ski attire, minus the clunky ski boots. So don’t worry about adding any fancy getups to your ski trip packing list. Simply swap your helmet for a beanie and stow your boards and skis away.”
— AFAR
December 30
I anticipated meeting up with Danica Patrick at Turning Point (the annual event put on by Charlie Kirk that advocates for conservative politics at high school, college, and university campuses across America), but I ended up pulling out at the last minute because it landed on Arlo’s 18th birthday, so a serendipitous meeting in Aspen was a nice surprise.
Our greeting at a local tavern was hectic and quick. She was spent after a long morning on the slopes, and we were starving. When she came at me in a quilted red coat, face swallowed by massive ski goggles and arms cluttered with ski gear, I didn’t recognize her. I’d soon realize this is the case with everyone, après-ski. Everyone looks alien at a glance, returning from the mountain.
In Glenwood Denise picked a hat that made her look like Linda Ronstadt. I bought a Navajo printed coat on discount and Mike narrowly escaped purchasing the Lebowski sweater that every third tourist in town was sporting.
Downtown Prada (or Main Street, or however they refer to it) seems to be the central hub for out of towners satisfying their post-holiday shopping impulses. We parked in front of the entrance and watched for a good 45 minutes as a line formed down the block, everyone pausing to scan their crisply outlined reflections in the oversized windows as they entered, pleased by the silhouettes staring back at them padded with new Max Mara coats.
I rolled down my window to compliment an older woman walking two pink-dyed poodles in outfits matching her own, peeked into a gorgeously designed Ralph Lauren store, and narrowly missed bumping into Rihanna (Mike caught a glimpse) and her crew window-shopping with her two babies in tow.
After dark, the whole town transforms into a glittering oasis. Stars scatter the night sky, and bundled faces, famous and not, emerge from the woodwork, pouring into bars and restaurants that all require reservations, as it’s nearly impossible to sit down and eat unannounced in Aspen.
Celebrity sightings on TMZ included a video of Kevin Coster and friends strolling the strip, annoyed by the aggressive sidewalk cameraman who kept hounding him about his new (rumored) relationship with Jewel.
The night before we arrived, Aspen alumni Kate Hudson debuted a new singing career at a packed Bad Harriet cocktail lounge. She posted videos of herself singing for an intimate audience on December 28.
"Well, on the eve of a new year, I say bring on 2024! I vow to sing and play and love and sing and love some more!" Hudson said in the post, calling her "first fun and joyous gig" a "dreamy" and "absolute blast" of an experience.
Hotel Jerome posted about her performance, teasing a "soon-to-be-released album" on the way. Selma Hayek and her family were part of that audience.
"Kate bewitched the crowd, filled with both friends and family, as she performed a number of her favorite songs that showcased her talent and passion for music," the post read.
Denise and I played and replayed the videos at lunch, trying to decide if she has a good voice or a “good voice for an actress,” — two distinctly different things.
Aspen Mountain Lodge
Our hotel (or hostel, depending on your rating) was a lucky score, even though it was basic as can be. When Mike called, it was the very last room in town available. Our setup resembled a freshly vacated college dorm: two queen beds separated by a short desk in the middle — the four of us had to be very creative about how we navigated getting ready, taking turns jumping on and off the beds. It made blow drying hair and outfit changes complicated — I got elbowed in the eye trying to slide past the closet as Mike was pulling his guitar case down from the shelf.
The following day, we kicked Mike and James out so we could get ready without these claustrophobic confines quite literally cramping our style.
When they stopped bothering us about how long we were taking, and were all too content to hang around q bare bones lobby, we wondered why they had suddenly given up on their efforts. The reason, we later found out, was a group of young, hot Swedish escort girls crammed together in the sauna without an ounce of modesty — on clear display from the lobby every time the door opened to let one of them out. These naked Swedes proved a powerful distraction that let us languish in prep time with a Housewives reunion on TV.
Kennedy Family Traditions
Before we arrived, a campaign staffer sent a few photos of RFK Jr. on the slopes days earlier, teaching his granddaughter how to ski. When I zoomed in on one, I noticed his ski gloves were patched with slices of silver duct tape.
“Does Bobby need new snow gloves?” I texted back. “If so, I know now what to get him for his birthday lol.”
Forget the gloves. Let’s talk about the jacket. According to photos through the years, Bobby has been wearing the same yellow ski jacket for at least a decade, maybe longer. But then again, the old school Kennedys are practical this way. In the photos, faces change and children grow taller, but Bobby Kennedy’s bold colored skiwear is never replaced.
The Kennedy presence in Aspen goes way back. The holiday tradition started in the early 60s after JFK spoke there. The family started gathering together on the slopes every year after Christmas as an annual pilgrimage, which served not only as a festive celebration but also a testament to their enduring dedication to tradition. Joseph P. Kennedy initiated it after he purchased a home in town. Over the years, the family has continued to converge there during the same week every year, making Aspen after Christmas a cherished family ritual, celebrated in countless photos by an endless stream of cousins on Instagram.
The Aspen ritual, like anything that has come to define the Kennedy legacy, is not without an injection of scandal and tragedy.
Bobby's brother, Michael, passed away on New Year's Eve of 1997. He was 39, playing football on skis down a mountain with several other family members when, at approximately 4:15 pm, he slammed into a tree. I remember my mom being glued to the TV the day it happened. She couldn’t believe “another one” was taken so brutally.
"They were just out having a fun time," a skier on site told a Denver television station. "They'd bump into each other, but it wasn't hard . . . They were laughing."
At Aspen Valley Hospital, 1.5 miles away, he was pronounced dead an hour later. Aspen authorities would only say that the resort's ski patrol treated him at the scene "within four minutes."
"There was blood all over the snow," a New York City publicist on vacation told the Daily News of New York. "Several of the Kennedys were on their knees saying the Lord's Prayer."
On the way down, paramedics lost his pulse and began administering CPR again. The ski patrol provided “extensive first aid” on the scene and swiftly transported him to an ambulance at the base of Aspen Mountain. On-mountain treatment included intensive cardiac care, spinal immobilization, and respiratory support.
The grieving family gathered at Hyannis Port afterwards, where an American flag flew at half-mast on New Year's Day.
A former resort employee said the Ski Patrol had warned the Kennedys in the past that football and skiing were a dangerous pairing. "They used to play football on the slopes. They've done it in the past. It's a long family tradition," he said.
In 2016, Conor Kennedy was arrested after a confrontation outside a Colorado nightclub, reportedly for defending a gay friend who was assaulted by a man using homophobic slurs. The altercation ensued when Conor demanded an apology. It escalated to a physical confrontation. Witnesses claimed he punched the man insulting his friend and later apologized to an officer.
“Like any father, I don’t want to see my son fighting or involved with the police,” Robert Kennedy Jr. told People magazine. “But on the other hand, I’m proud that he stands up to bullies.”
Connor’s intolerance for ‘bullying’ manifested in years following. In 2022, he was reportedly so moved by what he saw happening in Ukraine that he quietly enlisted to fight on the country's behalf in its ongoing war against Russia. He didn’t tell anyone in his family where we was headed.
After he arrived home safely he posted an update on Instagram,“I know this story is coming out, so I want to say my piece first to make the best of it and encourage others to take action,” he began. “Like many people, I was deeply moved by what I saw happening in Ukraine over the past year. I wanted to help. When I heard about Ukraine’s International Legion, I knew I was going, and I went to the embassy to enlist the next day.”
He kept a low profile overseas, explaining, “I told one person here where I was, and I told one person there my real name. I didn’t want my family or friends to worry, and I didn’t want to be treated differently there. Going in, I had no prior military experience and wasn’t a great shot, but I could carry heavy things and learned fast. I was also willing to die there. So they soon agreed to send me to the northeastern front. I liked being a soldier, more than I had expected. It is scary. But life is simple, and the rewards for finding courage and doing good are substantial. My friends there know why I had to come home. l’ll always owe them for their example. I know I’m lucky I made it back, but I would also take all the risks we took over again.”
"When he got back, I kind of expressed some — I don't know — whether it's anger or whatever," RFK told PEOPLE. "He said to me, when he heard maybe a little bit of anger and concern, 'Dad, this is what you taught me to do: to stand up for what I believe in.' And I was like 'Okay.'"
"I'm very proud of this. Of my son. And I knew his views about the war were not aligned with mine. Although he's not naive at all about it. He knows Ukraine has problems and he understands ... that there's corruption. But he doesn't like Putin. He thinks he's a gangster and a bully and he doesn't like bullies."
"He'd been arguing vociferously for the U.S. intervention and he didn't want to be one of these people supporting a war and sitting on the sidelines," Kennedy added.
Aspen mugshot / Ukraine war
New Year’s Eve Afternoon
We wandered around town mid-afternoon, looking for any place that didn’t require reservations to eat a sandwich.
At some point, someone suggested we find mushrooms to have on hand for the night. Microdosing in Aspen, to put a glittering edge on the sights surrounding us, sounded like a reasonable way to ring in the new year, but the reality involved us following shoddy directions up and down staircases into a few speakeasies where we were directed to use coded language to secure our desired supply. Picture Mike in a Navajo printed coat, leaning over the counter at a neon lit bar, asking for mushrooms by not asking for mushrooms, because a certain local sent us there.
“I give up,” I decided, after our third failed attempt. “I’m not taking another field trip down another flight of stairs. I’m drinking champagne and praying I stay awake until midnight.”
As we emerged from this absurd basement maze, unsuccessful, we bumped into two guys in his early 20s. One of them stopped, looking at me strangely. “I follow you,” he said. The admission came tinged with hesitation. He said he “loved” what I did and that he followed Denise, too. When she suggested we all take a photo together, he recoiled. He had a “business” he said, and feared being tagged. He was a comedian with a decent following from San Diego. The insinuation was that we were too risky to be photographed with, making me wonder: Do sheepish comedians go very far? And is safe comedy comedy at all?
The NYE invitation from a Kennedy staffer simply stated that we were welcome at the “billionaire’s house in the hills.” I was told it was a fun group at a beautiful house and both Bobby and Cheryl would be there. Our second option wasn’t so enticing — to bar hop with an old friend of Denise’s husband who moved to Aspen to do hair for high profile clients in the area. I pictured us in an aimless pursuit in the freezing cold trying to find the right bar to hang at. The billionaire house party was the more festive choice. However, wardrobe issues turned into an argument when Denise realized James did not pack a dress coat or “nice” shoes to wear to such an occasion. Dress code was not explicit, but James in a beanie and faded flannel, she said, was “embarrassing.”
The remedy came in a borrowed blazer and slicked back hair. The shoes, she’d have to live with.
"On major holidays, a private plane lands or takes off at the Aspen airport every six minutes. The average Aspen house costs $2.7 million. Just what has made this Colorado mountain town so irresistible to Kevin Costner, Robert McNamara, Jack Nicholson, Goldie Hawn, Michael Eisner, and Prince Bandar, to name just a few of its A-list homeowners, as well as a cultural mecca for artists and intellectuals? Talking with everyone from anti-growth activist Hunter S. Thompson to go-go entrepreneur Harley Baldwin, Mark Seal surveys the legends of Aspen's past, the eye-popping wealth of its present, and the battle for its future."
—For The Love of Aspen, Vanity Fair
New Year’s Eve Night
We got there around 9. Right after us, Bobby and Cheryl arrived, with him still in the infamous yellow ski coat he checked at the door. Seeing him wearing the same casual clothing from earlier, James shot Denise an irritated look. He was not the only one without a dress coat.
The house was a grand expanse situated high in the hills with peaked ceilings and dark beams, complete with windows that stretched the entire length of the walls. A few of the rich old men came paired with pretty women in sequined dresses. Their energy levels were impressive. “If men this age can make it to midnight, so can I,” I thought. One of them, a Hollywood director, couldn’t take his eyes off his date, who resembled a young Natalie Wood in a hot pink glittering gown. Throughout the night he filmed her dancing, drinking, toasting the phone with a plastic silver crown propped on her head, and later grinding up against another older woman in a short chain link gold dress and knee-high boots. I sat by the fire alone watching the room as the night wore on and the crowd got drunker, enchanted by each of these dazzling vignettes as they unfolded in front of me, while Mike and James toured the house and Denise stood in line chatting up strangers waiting on drinks. When the hostess caught me yawning she scolded me, half kidding, about breaking party rules. Watching her work the room, she was vivacious in her approach, moving nonstop, making sure drinks were filled and that all of her guests were greeted personally by her. Even us, out of town strangers, she embraced with the same enthusiasm she did old friends. I liked how she handled the night — the way she dedicated herself to maintaining joyous vibes in the house leading up to the final countdown.
In line to refill our drinks, a man asked us how we knew the hosts. I explained that we didn’t. We we tracking the campaign year, specifically trailing Kennedy’s team in various stops around the country to ensure his message was relayed from an independent perspective because “he certainly deserves that.” The man in fancy gold cuff links who owned a popular shop in Aspen, paused before he hugged and thanked me for it. “He’s an old friend of mine,” he said. “He’s a good man.” After I told him we lived in San Clemente, he offered up his second home in Laguna “any time we want it.”
Later, when greetings from old friends died down, we found Bobby by himself at the snack table picking at sample sized seafood on display. I asked when his next break was. “This is my break,” he smiled, “and it’s been nice.”
When I inquired about the family tradition, he said he’d been coming here since 1958, during the same week every year. So had most of his cousins. He suggested we swing by the Sundeck for lunch the following day where “sometimes 40 Kennedys” are gathered at the same time. He said we could meet his cousin Teddy Jr., whom he boasted was the second fastest skier in the world — with only one leg. After a frightful bout with cancer as a child, the amputation saved his life. These are the details I get little of but appreciate the most. Bragging about family comes easily to Bobby. He is quick to compliment and point out their best qualities in any conversation, for any reason at all. Oftentimes he will pull up photos or videos. In this case, he scrolled until he found the clips of Teddy shooting down the mountain with rapid intensity and impressive stance on a single limb. Other videos documented his sons launching off cliffs and executing multiple flips down the mountain — like madmen, proof that Kennedy extremes prevail, even when limbs fail them.
Catch Steakhouse // RFK NY Appearance
Downstairs the Steakhouse was dimly lit with red velvety walls illuminated by a glowing bar. The room was packed. In attendance were many faces familiar from the billionaire party the night before, including some of Bobby’s older kids. His daughter Kyra arrived in an elegant full-sleeved white coat dress, red lips, and gold jewelry. She is one of those rare creatures whose features are perfectly balanced to resemble both parents equally. Her expressions and profile look like her father, but her dark striking beauty is identical to photos of her mother.
At a table in the back, the Kennedy kids gathered alongside Amaryllis Fox, Kennedy’s daughter-in-law and campaign manager, and Anthony Shriver, his cousin, whose cutting jawline stands out in every crowd no matter how dense.
At some point, someone introduced me to Blake Fleetwood, seated at a table up front, former NYT reporter and professor of political science at NYU. He and Bobby have been friends for over 50 years. The two of them come stocked with wild memories of dodging bullets as wild young men on hand for the 1973 Chilean coup d'état, a military overthrow of the Popular Unity government in Chile led by the democratic socialist Salvador Allende when he was president. Blake smiles brightly when Bobby brings up this experience. Their friendship was tested when Fleetwood criticized his old friend for putting “everything at stake” to push an anti-vaccine stance. He regretted that Kennedy was "risking his whole life of activism with his anti-vaccine rhetoric” in an NYT interview. "Why is he blowing his whole life’s work?” he pondered, almost mournfully.
Despite conflicting views, he later stated he has considered Bobby an “inspiration” since their connection in 1971. In response to the controversy over vaccines, Fleetwood emphasized their enduring bond, saying that he values their long-standing friendship — acknowledging Kennedy's “natural political talent” and the “complexity” of his journey at this phase of life.
At one point, Danica asked how long it took us to get into town. I paused, calculating the time, trying to subtract all the lingering gas station tours. “15 hours or something like that. Way too long,” I said. This lit a spark in her eye. Our lagging ETA presented a challenge to this woman whose reputation is fueled by high speed competition. “Next trip, I’ll drive,” she said.
Del Bigtree, the director of communications for team Kennedy, has natural and booming charisma in front of a crowd. His inflection comes to life with a slight bend in the knee, clearly picked up as a preacher’s son. When I post videos of him, my DMs are filled with praise and interest. Some of them are from people who know and love Del; others are asking who he is and where they can find more of him. His theatrical doomsday warnings have them all hooked.
“I don’t care much about any celebrities you encounter on these trips, but Del Bigtree in your stories just made my night!” my friend Emily, a long time supporter of his vision, texted.
Other Scenes Jotted in Notes:
Women caught in an adoring gaze when Kennedy speaks
Morgan Law in the mix — Independent candidate for United States Congress in the 7th district of CO, defined on Twitter as: Wife, Mom, small business owner, construction worker, community leader, human rights advocate
A voice from the crowd (Bobby’s oldest son) asking if he believes in aliens, the crowd erupting in laughter, Bobby vowing to release all the files on UFOs once he gets into office
A gray haired musician in the corner plays Woody Guthrie’s “This Land Is Your Land” as Bobby sets up the selfie line
A young girl — the daughter of a lawyer on his team — meeting RFK Jr. for the first time, handing over ties as an early birthday gift (thin, like he prefers) one printed with tiny owls on the front
Del BigTree riles up supporters
After the event, we met the Kennedy campaign team for dinner at a random pizza place that somehow squeezed 20 people in a back corner. Danica, a wine aficionado with vineyards of her own, asked the waiter what red he recommended. When he suggested a hearty blend he loved called “Monsanto,” the whole table groaned. The poor guy had no idea what he fell into with that recommendation.
New Year’s Day // Lunch At The Sundeck
We arrived at the Ajax resort later than intended. Unbeknownst to me, Sundeck is situated at the top of the mountain — only accessible by a steep 15-minute gondola ride. This changed my interest. Drastically. Heights are another phobia. Tight enclosed spaces in high up places is my nightmare.
Just as I had nearly convinced my group that the foot pass was a waste of money because lunch was likely almost over, Cheryl Hines appeared at the counter to purchase a pass, too. “We must not be that late,” Denise said. “Cheryl just got here.” She continued, “Don't you want to meet one-legged Teddy?”
“And see the gloves,” I remembered.
My protest was semi dismantled when we told Cheryl we were second guessing the lunch date because of the gondolas and she reminded me that a new year means facing old fears. Bobby’s message was more persuasive: He shared simply the Emerson quote about doing what you fear. And who am I to deny Emerson on the first day of a new year?
After much needed encouragement, and because my group was not thrilled about having to find another “walk in” lunch spot, I got in, closed my eyes tight, and made it to the top, occasionally screaming anytime I dared to look in front of me, counting each minute with anxiety boiling hot inside me to the point that when we exited the gondola, I was so lightheaded, I was sure I might faint.
“You did it!” someone shouted, seeing the four of us appear.
Atop the mountain was a breathtaking panoramic view as reward. Amidst a bustling cafeteria, Bobby and Cheryl were at a large table seated alongside his friend Blake Fleetwood, some of the campaign staffers, and Torah Bright, an Olympic ski champion, with two bright-eyed babies with her, one on her chest and the other trying to escape her lap. Behind them sat Teddy, with his son, wife, and a few friends.
Del and his family were seated across from them. His wife’s smile was so big and warm it made me feel at ease every time she flashed it.
His oldest son Bobby showed up a few minutes later in a cowboy hat and flask in his coat pocket as solution to overpriced / underpoured cocktails. After nearly a week in Aspen, his babysitting options he said were running low. With two kids at home during nap, he escaped long enough to join his dad and uncle for the lunch break on their last day together.
“Why didn’t we think of that?” Denise leaned in and whispered to me, about the traveling flask.
As we sat enjoying our lunch, I watched Cheryl and Bobby get approached countless times by skiers asking for selfies, explaining how much they admire him (or her). Each time it happened, Bobby set his plate aside without complaint and stood up to shake their hand and snap a photo, smiling (genuinely) every time. Sometimes he even pulled in their friends, onlookers too embarrassed to ask, and took group photos with them. His food got cold in between interruptions. He wasn't bothered by it. Surrounded by friends and family, his demeanor becomes infectiously buoyant. He is childlike in his curiosity, full of fascinating tales of adventures in foreign countries, but sharply attentive whenever the conversation shifts and someone else is speaking. About anything at all. During the afternoon he opened up and laughed easily, spoke openly about his siblings, sky high Aspen rental prices, and taking his older kids to Hunter’s house where they were young and explosives could be triggered by custom levers he built all around the property. He bragged about Cheryl’s gambling skills, and her winning big on the set of a movie a few years ago. Upon my introduction, he jokingly informed Teddy to be cautious with a journalist among them, but took no precaution in guarding his words. Ever. Everything he presented in conversation was with candor.
(His gloves, I would come to discover, are not tattered. The duct tape is merely a tactic to keep his sons, who all own the same pair, from stealing his.)
Mid-way through lunch, Danica arrived, having missed her return flight back home, and pulled up a chair between us. She complimented Cheryl’s sweater, a gift from Bobby — a Ralph Lauren cashmere pullover with an American flag on the front (later seen on Nikki Haley and Sarah Huckabee Sanders). The sweater brought up the topic of patriotism as a partisan allegiance. On the right, they embrace and overindulge in it. On the left, they tread oddly away from it. Danica mentioned how a caption she wrote, “I love this country,” resulted in a slew of hateful reactions online. All of us at the table shared the same views on reviving patriotism in the country. Bobby, in his speeches, often refers to a poll that shows only 18% of young people feel patriotic about their country. He finds the sharp decline disheartening.
All of this talk about the revival of patriotism prompted Danica to confess that she inked her love for America on her body when she was 18. "Let’s see it!” I demanded. When she stood up, lifting the back of her shirt to reveal a glaring tattoo with some kind of faded flag in waving motion, Teddy stretched his neck to see it more clearly, and Bobby looked as amused as the rest of us about a “tramp stamp” as a teenage love note to America. I thought to myself, “This is the kind of thing people need to hear about: lunch dates with politicians who stop to talk and take picture with strangers at every ask, Hollywood wives in festive flag sweaters, uncensored conversations injected with waves of laughter, babies in carriers side-eyeing a presidential candidate, cousins who define a family legacy built on bravery and perseverance, fears overcome and traditions upheld after being marked by tragedy, new beginnings and old values mingled to inspire hope for something better down the road. Patriotism, applauded over cold burgers and empty wine glasses in a bustling cafeteria atop snow covered mountains on a new year where uncertainties are met with excitement instead of foreboding fear.
Torah Bright trailing Bobby on the slopes
Aspen Times Title: McWilliams: ‘Impressed with RFK Jr.’ May 2023
“For your perusal, Aspen Times readers, I came across this recent quote from Robert F. Kennedy Jr.: “The worst thing Trump did was the COVID lockdown. In fairness, the bureaucrats rolled him on it; he did not want to do it. But that is not a good enough excuse. He was president of the United States. In May 2020, 600 doctors sent a letter to Trump asking him not to do the lockdowns. He said bureaucrats were coming after him. He had the right instincts. He knew he shouldn’t close down the country, but he did anyway. He got rolled by his bureaucracy. At this time in history, you need a president who can stand up to his bureaucracy.”
Danica on Charlie Kirk
After lunch I made it down the gondola with considerably less anxiety. Denise played a song I like. Cheryl was funny and calming because funny IS calming, and on the drive back to the hostel, Mike, who was mostly quiet at the table all afternoon, reiterated how much he likes Bobby. “He’s just so real.”
“That’s what people like about him. They believe he is who he says he is,” I added.
When we returned to our room to rest before meeting up with another group on our way out of town, I was reminded of another Emerson quote I loved and memorized one semester in college.
"It is easy in the world to live after the world's opinion, it is easy in solitude to live after our own, but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude."
Favorite article you’ve written that blend’s politics and celebrity. You found your sweet spot with this one. Loved it!
This was such a great article! I don't even know what else to say. It was captivating from the get-go, and I read it through slowly on my lunch. Your writing is a sublime treat to read.