BOSTON – After Ted Kennedy was elected for the first time, at age 30, his home state sent him back to the Senate eight times, all but once by unassailable margins. 

Here in Massachusetts, people understood him and wanted him on their side – and it wasn't just because of his the name. 

It was the accent that was as much Boston as Brahmin. It was his collection of imperfections and failings trumped most of the time by his stubbornness, real passion and just plain will. 

Darren Mccollester / Getty Images

Gail Steinbring, left, and Gini Guertin read a special edition Boston Globe dedicated to U.S. Senator Edward M. Kennedy outside the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum on Thursday in Boston, Massachusetts.Â

And there was something else about him that made him an untouchable here: He came from a patrician family that often, as an entity, angered people but he was the one that plain people seemed to be able – and eager – to relate to. 

There are a lot of stories about his "everyman" qualities being told around Hyannis, where he was often just another guy in the produce aisle. But he carried that accessibility everywhere. 

Jimmy Sullivan, the co-manager and bartender at the Union Oyster House, a landmark restaurant in the center of Boston, explained how Kennedy exuded those qualities whenever he came in over the years – often by himself.

"You sit at the Oyster Bar and you can't help but be a regular guy," said Sullivan. "You're sitting face to face and back to back with all the regular people. He used to come in all the time…For a guy who came from wealth, he had a genuine soft spot for the working guy."

SLIDESHOW: A Democratic icon

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'Master political craftsman'
It was part of his political skills. I've seen it, as has any reporter who covered him. He would look someone he was just meeting right in the eye, wordlessly repeat the person's name, and remember it later.

It was a quality Rep. Bill Delahunt, D-Mass., a long time Kennedy friend and colleague, said made him a "master political craftsman."

Delahunt described Kennedy as being the "kind of guy with 10,000 best friends," but he said that he was also the "most generous politician" he knew. 

Yes, Kennedy had enemies who hated him thoroughly and without forgiveness, both for his politics and his personal failings. But he always kept coming back to the arena to take his hacks, make his points and press his arguments. And most people, of all political stripes, respected that.

I covered the dedication of the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum in 1979 and remember the senator's voice soaring in emotion at the key turn in his remarks. He spoke about how his brother Jack had taught him to "sail against the wind" and how his brothers taught him to move forward when the elements were aligned against you. 

It was good stuff. Teddy stuff. Like the Red Sox coming close year after heartbreaking year – but unlike his favorite team, he never did win the big prize. Many say he really never wanted the presidency (I covered the 1980 campaign and it sure looked that way to me). But he won thousands of other prizes for "his people."

VIDEO: Boston mourns one of their own

Like saving Boston's Hanscom Air Force Base from closure and winning program after program on education, voting rights, immigration reform, labor, civil rights, the list goes on. The nuts and bolts things people wanted and needed and knew he had the muscle to get for them. 

Dr. Lou Casagrande, former president of the Boston Children's Museum, worked with Kennedy to raise over $3 million for educational programs for Head Start children. He praised Kennedy's indefatigable efforts on behalf of the museum.

He said he still has an answering machine message Kennedy left for him over a year and a half ago delivering the good news that they had just won more grant money for one of their programs.

"He made me feel like I was in the Senate" said Casagrande, admiring Kennedy's sense of inclusiveness.

For all of the vast imperfections that made him a figure of ridicule to his critics – Chappaquiddick, his bloat, his drinking, his womanizing – he offered moments of eloquence and triumphant spirit that humanized him in a way his fellow citizens could understand and acknowledge.  

"Sure he had flaws, we all do," said the bartender Sullivan. "But he was one of our own. And whether you agreed with him or disagreed with him, Ted was in there, fighting the good fight."

And he continued that fight until the end.

Hours after he got his brain cancer diagnosis he was out in a screaming breeze at the helm of his schooner Mya. Anyone who saw that video could imagine him shouting, "Yeah? I'm not done yet!"  That was the spirit that everyone loved about him up here.

So it's fitting that his body will lie in repose at the JFK library in Boston today and tomorrow.
Sullivan may have summed it up best: "Teddy was one of our own. No matter where he went, no matter whether he strayed or wandered...When you're from Boston they always take you back."

Click here for complete coverage: Senator Edward M. Kennedy, 1932-2009
The Kennedys: Portrait of an American dynasty

RINGWOOD, N.J. – Is eating your vegetables actually…cool? Kids and vegetables have historically gotten along about as well as dogs and mail carriers. I vividly recall many evenings locked in staring contests with a plate of peas or creamed spinach. Vegetables were the enemy. And no doubt similar battles still play out in many household dining rooms.

But the proliferation of farmer's markets and locally grown produce is doing wonders for the vegetables' image amongst the 12 and under crowd. (Fruits, not nearly as hard a sell for kids, are doing quite nicely too.)

John Baiata / NBC News

Shoppers check out the bounty of fresh fruits and vegetables at the Ringwood Farmer's Market on a recent Saturday.

And while today's parents more than ever are foregoing processed foods in favor of fresh produce, it may be the kids who are increasingly driving the bus (or the tractor?) on the issue. A new generation of locavores, people who try to eat only locally grown food, is being bred. And they're hungry.

According to the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA), there are now approximately 4,800 farmer's markets in the country. Ringwood Farmer's Market, in the exurbs of New Jersey, is one of the many seasonal markets included in that figure, and a Saturday staple for many nearby residents.

But unlike many, the Ringwood market is run as a non-profit, relying heavily on volunteers and grant money for its operating expenses. "All profits go to the farmers," said Jennifer Papa, a member of the markets board of directors. "They do better as a group than they would independently."

Beyond just providing access to locally grown foods and supporting local farmers, the market's mission has a strong educational bent.

"We have grants and funding in place for school gardens," said Papa. "And we actually go into the local schools – as early as kindergarten – teaching them about biodiversity… kids think it's normal to eat locally."

They also host harvest dinners featuring locally grown foods, and provide recipes for how to prepare the foods – particularly for some of the produce which may be unfamiliar to shoppers. Land preservation and the environmental benefits of eating locally are also stressed.

The market is also a community space – and a kid-friendly one at that. Hula hoops are available for all to give a spin and local musicians who regularly entertain the crowd take requests. Local theater groups sometimes perform as well.

John Baiata / NBC News

A young customer, Alexa Baiata, the author's daughter, checks out the peaches.

Locals only
Still, the market is serious business and it maintains stringent rules to ensure that the produce offered is indeed locally grown. Turf battles have broken out in other markets over the issue of what constitutes "locally grown" and the Ringwood market has worked hard to try and avoid problems.

"We visit each farm to ensure they're locally grown," said Amy Jolin, the driving force behind the Ringwood market's creation and the president of the market's board of directors. "But our vendors are self-policing, too. They know when there's been a crop failure [and therefore would know if something was not grown locally]. They also collaborate so they're not competing with one another too much."

The market insists that all the food for sale must be grown within 150 miles. And the vendors are all growers and producers – so there's no middlemen to drive up prices.

Pricing is an issue for some market-goers. Most expect to pay more for produce at a farmer's market than in a supermarket, but that is not always the case.

Sales have also been enhanced by a growing participation in government food assistance programs, although, only a small percentage of farmer's markets – less than ten percent nationwide according to the USDA – participate in those programs.

There's no shortage of competition at the vendor tables most Saturday mornings here.

Shoppers jostle while picking the best corn, spinach and peaches. The kids ogle the sugar plums and sip fresh-squeezed lemonade.

On a recent morning, a young girl pointed to a bin and asked, "Mom, what are those?"

"Those are beets honey," her mother answered. "They're good in salads. Wanna try them?"

"Yeah, OK."

Cool.

JACKSONVILLE, Fla. – "Welcome home, Scott."  It's a sentence this community has been waiting 18 years to say.  

Even if the homecoming is still wrapped in questions.

On Friday, Jacksonville's mayor delivered brief remarks under gray skies, before the city's Memorial Wall honoring war veterans and hundreds of citizens clutching red roses and American flags.

Many in the crowd wore military uniforms. 

Daron Dean / Reuters

Florida Governor Charlie Crist, right, stands with Jacksonville Mayor John Peyton, second from right, as the hearse carrying the remains of Navy pilot Michael Scott Speicher passes the Duval County Veterans Memorial Wall in Jacksonville, Fla.on Friday.Â

The somber crowd then walked over to the roadway, lining it in almost complete silence, as they waited for the procession of Navy pilot Michael Scott Speicher's remains.

A man Florida's Gov. Charlie Crist called "the best of the best" during his remarks Friday morning.

A mystery
Nearly two decades have passed since the 33-year-old father of two toddlers was shot down over the Iraqi desert, on the first night of the 1991 Gulf War – Operation Desert Storm.

That much is known.

It's what happened next, and for the years that followed, that is not clear even now to his family and the many others who never forgot him.  

Did he indeed eject from his FA-18 Hornet and survive, to be captured and buried later? Or was he killed on impact and buried by Bedouins in the desert, as the latest information coming from Iraqi civilians indicates?

The Defense Department has been pressured for years to find out what happened, and on Aug. 2, the Pentagon disclosed that Marines had recovered Speicher's bones and skeletal fragments – enough for a positive identification.

Speicher's family believes he survived the initial crash, based on what's come out of the investigation over so many difficult years.

His status has been changed by the military several times, from "killed in action," to "missing in action," even to "missing/captured" in 2002, and then back again. At one point the then-secretary of the Navy said he believed Scott was captured.

But today, for many here, those details no longer matter.

This was a day to be thankful he is finally home, to be laid to rest.

VIDEO: Remembering the Gulf War's first casualty

'Just a great guy'
Taps is always wrenching to hear; this time, it was deeply felt.

Standing there in the breezeless heat and the quiet, you thought back to the start of the conflict and where you were that night, maybe nervously watching Desert Storm on television – while Speicher was actually there. I imagine he was bravely charging into the unknown. And as a result, he became our first casualty. 

Former Navy squadron commander and Vietnam veteran Jake Piatt managed to laugh a little after the ceremony, remembering meeting Speicher at a Jacksonville bar just two months before he went missing. They had just been at an air show.

He said Speicher's nametag on his flight suit read "Spike" and Piatt had joked with him about it.  Piatt said he finally convinced Scott to give it to him, because his best friend's name was also Spike.

"Most guys would probably have knocked you in the face," he said, "because I tore his nametag off.  But he was just a great guy."

Piatt said he relentlessly followed Scott's story, as so many here have. "We all have that feeling when it's one of our own. You hope, you pray."

John Campbell, who attended the same high school as Speicher, couldn't help but feel the emotion of a day so long in coming.

"I feel like he's a part of me," said Campbell. "I followed his story on the news so much."

As Speicher's hearse rode slowly by, in the somber quiet and haze of the summer morning, a 21-gun salute by the Jacksonville Sheriff's Office made people jump and gasp. 

Bringing home a little bit of the reality of war, as veterans here put it.

They said sometimes things happen that can't ever be explained or solved.  They just happen.

Speicher's remains will be buried Friday. His family plans to continue the investigation into what happened, and to meet with Defense Department officials soon.

Here in the town that never stopped hoping Speicher would be found, Campbell said simply, "I'm glad he's home."

Related link: "Captain Speicher Comes Home" by Col. Jack Jacobs

WASHINGTON, D.C. – Just after sunrise on a recent Friday morning, Dr. J. Keith Melancon had a large Starbucks coffee in hand and was gearing up for a long and busy day.

Melancon, 40, was getting ready to spend 12 hours on his feet in an operating room at Georgetown University Hospital where he is the director of the medical center's thriving kidney and pancreas transplant program. 

Talking to Melancon was Larry McPhatter, who himself was preparing for a big day – McPhatter was about to undergo surgery to donate one of his kidneys.

VIDEO: Donation chain gives hope to transplant recipients

"Don't worry we are going to take good care of you," Melancon told his patient, clasping his hand. "And once again, you're a hero my man, this is beautiful."

A kidney transplant is a surgery that places a healthy organ in a person who has suffered from kidney failure. Lots of kidneys are needed – more than 485,000 Americans are being treated for kidney failure, according to National Kidney Foundation. 

And the need is higher for minorities – due to high rates of diabetes, high blood pressure and heart disease, African Americans have an increased risk of developing kidney failure.  

In fact, out of the 85,458 Americans currently on the U.S. waitlist for a kidney transplant, 35 percent are black, according to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services.  

VIDEO: Dr. Melancon in his own words: 'We can perform thousands more'

McPhatter was getting ready to donate a kidney to a total stranger – so that his wife Elizabeth, who has struggled through kidney dialysis three times a week for two years, could receive a new kidney from someone else.

They were just two people out of 14 involved in the recent kidney transplant chain at Georgetown and MedStar Health's Washington Hospital Center – most of the organ recipients were African American.

'Domino transplant'
The so-called "domino transplant" matched a group of incompatible donor-recipient pairs (a willing donor whose blood or tissue is not compatible with their loved one in need of a transplant) with other pairs of donor-recipients facing a similar challenge.

In domino transplants, a patient in need of a kidney brings a donor who is compatible with another recipient.  That donation allows the patient to receive another organ from someone else in the kidney swap.

Six males and eight females participated in this particular kidney swap over the course of four days – including two "altruistic donors" who actually knew none of the organ recipients.

Melancon was part of a pioneering team of doctors at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore who conducted the first six-person kidney swap in April 2008.

The swaps are made possible by using a process called "plasmapheresis," a procedure which filters the recipient's blood plasma, and makes the likelihood of the recipient's body rejecting the new organ less likely.

VIDEO: Kidney recipient: 'My life...will be better'

"The whole purpose of the plasmapheresis for these recipients is to remove the harmful antibodies and allow them to be safely transplanted," Meloncon explained.

It was at Johns Hopkins where Melancon, who is African-American, took a special interest in using the process to treat minorities, who have a genetic tendency to build up a lot of antibodies – making it more difficult for them to find a matching organ donor. African Americans in particular have a difficult time building up antibodies.  

During his time at Johns Hopkins, Melancon gained invaluable experience working with a wide variety of patients – many of whom had different blood types and high levels of antibodies that make organ rejection more likely.

"Over four years [at Johns Hopkins], I saw more of those types of patients than most doctors ever see in their lives," he said.

Melancon first became interested in transplant surgery during his residency at Tulane University in New Orleans.

There were two reasons for his interest.

"I actually did a research project when I was in med school on transplant patients. It was the first time I became exposed to young people in New Orleans who had kidney disease," he said. "A lot of them looked like me and were my age … It piqued my interest as to why they had renal disease," he explained, using another term for kidney failure.

The second reason was closer to his heart.

"I had a good friend, Bernard Hurst, one of my fraternity brothers who had kidney disease [and] wound up having a kidney and pancreas transplant."

Changing lives
It was in New Orleans where he met his wife, Lisa.

Melancon said he told her on their first date that he was planning to be a transplant surgeon and if their relationship was going to last, she would have to understand that. They have been married for 14 years now and have four boys between the ages of two and nine.

"My wife is a special person to understand how demanding this career is," he said. "If I am on call or not, even on vacation, I get calls about patients…Your family winds up making these sacrifices along with you."

While the hours are difficult – he sometimes works a 100 hours a week – Melancon loves what he does.

"I feel like the luckiest man alive because it really is a blessing. You get to change people's lives forever," he said.

VIDEO: Kidney donor: 'It's more of a blessing for me'