I was 17 years old, dressed in creased navy blue slacks, a white shirt, a navy-blue necktie. In the most exclusive area of the United States Senate, off-limits to anyone except senators and pages, I completed an exam demonstrating my knowledge of all the current senators. I passed, and was escorted to the Democratic Cloakroom, which was, at the time, cluttered with sound-proof telephone booths. Sen. Ted Kennedy was seated in one of them. He waved at me. This was before cell phones.