In November 2006, Patrick was reelected by the largest plurality of his career. He had shown real courage by facing up to his problems as opposed to trying to cover them up, and voters respected his bravery with an outpouring of sympathy, empathy, and support. When his son was reelected, Ted—who had just easily won his eighth term in the Senate—had to stop and think about what it was his own constituency wanted from him in terms of addressing mental health issues and how to best fill those needs—especially now that Democrats had control of the Senate and the House.
Trying to rise to the occasion of new public sentiment, Ted and his colleagues in the Senate continued working on their version of a new mental health parity bill at the same time that Patrick was working on one he felt was better legislation. Again, Ted’s vision was narrower, not addressing coverage for any but the most dire of mental illnesses, and no parity for substance abuse disorder treatment. Patrick’s was more sweeping, covering all mental illnesses and addictions. Father and son definitely disagreed. “In Patrick’s view,” recalled one lawmaker, “it was as if his father simply didn’t want to recognize the generational challenge in his own family. He thought maybe that if Ted actually acknowledged these issues in his own bill he would perhaps feel compelled to speak about them in relation to the Kennedys.”
“If I couldn’t convince my father that he was not only backing the wrong bill but indulging in some strange form of legislative denial,” Patrick would later recall, “then all I could do was try to beat him.”
Patrick spent the first few months of 2007 canvassing the country, giving speeches to explain his bill, talking to people who had suffered the way he and his family had over the years with issues pertaining to mental health as well as substance abuse. He worked toward not only getting public sentiment on his side but also toward forging a deeper understanding of the issues and challenges that lay ahead.
In March, Patrick formally introduced his bill and all its specifics on the House floor. At this same time, Ted’s bill was also slowly working its way through the channels of the Senate.
In May, Patrick got his chip for one year’s sobriety, a major personal victory. In July he turned forty. To celebrate the occasion, a party was hosted for him on the Cape that was attended by many of his family members, including his brother, sister, and both parents. During the festivities, Ted had too much to drink, as did Joan. While their three grown children watched sadly from the sidelines, it became painfully clear to them that their parents were still trapped by their diseases.
Both of his siblings were incredibly proud of Patrick. “You’ll be remembered for so much more than just your relationship to Dad and the rest of us Kennedys,” Teddy said in the company of other relatives. “You have a destiny all your own, Pat,” he told him as he put his arm around his little brother. It was nice to hear; Patrick just hoped it was true.
PATRICK KENNEDY HAD seen his father command the Senate floor more times than he could count. It was always a privilege for him; he never took it for granted, that’s how much respect and admiration he had for his father, no matter their differences. However, in all Patrick’s years in Congress—thirteen by this time—Ted had only come to the House floor to watch his son debate a bill maybe three times. Therefore, when the Senator approached his youngest on the floor in March 2008, Patrick felt the gravity of the situation: his most important bill finally the subject of heated debate for and against on the floor, so very close to actually becoming law … and his mostly disapproving father present for it. Ted smiled at Patrick, put his hand on his shoulder, and sat next to him at his desk as he watched one of the speeches. “I felt empowered and eight years old at the same time,” Patrick would later recall.
As far as Patrick was concerned, Ted had come through for him when it mattered most. Though he’d had a different vision of mental health care, the Senator seemed genuinely proud of his boy for getting so far with his own version. It hadn’t been easy, especially given all that Patrick had faced in his personal life at the same time he was working on this legislation. However, Ted’s presence seemed to signal that he understood the fact that Patrick’s personal odyssey was about to become the catalyst for great change in the way the country dealt with mental illness.
As one speaker followed the other, Ted whispered words of encouragement in Patrick’s ear, especially whenever someone spoke well of the legislation. Finally, Patrick was recognized. He took the mic and, at first, was nervous. However, as father and son locked eyes, Patrick found the confidence and resolve he needed to give one of the most—if not the most—impassioned of arguments he’d ever put forth for any bill. “It was one of the best days of my life,” he would later recall.
The votes came in, 268 to 148—47 Republicans joining 221 Democrats.
Victory.
That night Ted and Patrick went to dinner. The two ran into an old friend of the family’s in the restaurant. Everyone shook hands. Then, putting his arm around his son’s shoulders, Ted proudly stated, “This one, right here? This one really did me proud today.” Patrick smiled. “He taught me everything I know,” he said, gazing at his father. “Yes, but not everything I know,” Ted added. There was a pause. Ted’s rejoinder seemed maybe loaded with meaning … or maybe not. Whatever the case, Patrick decided to just ignore it and not let anything ruin the moment.
Patrick Kennedy’s crowning achievement as a congressman, the Mental Health Parity and Addiction Equity Act of 2008, would soon be signed into law by President George W. Bush.