Entries from December 1, 2006 - December 31, 2006

Saturday
Dec302006

Thank you, Mister President

Letter to a 10 year-old boy:

A1813-5.jpgThe White House
Washington

September 5, 1975

Dear Brian:

Thank you for your letter to President Ford inviting him to visit your hometown during his campaign. Although we do not yet have a schedule of his proposed trips, it is sugggested that you watch your local newspapers which will not doubt carry an account of the President's plans.

Sincerely,

William W. Nicholson
Deputy Director
Scheduling Office

 

Letter to that same boy's Mother, who had written to tell the President she would do what he asked: Keep him in her prayers.

 

GRF.jpgThe White House
Washington

May 28, 1976

Thank you very much for your thoughtful and encouraging message. I am grateful to know that I can count on your support.

The American people are going to be asked to make some very critical choices this year, choices which will have considerable impact not only on their imeediate future, but also on future generations. As President, I must make difficult and fundamental decisions which are necessary although not always popular. I am grateful that you support our efforts for a better America.

You and your family have my best wishes and appreciation for your prayers.

Sincerely,

Gerald R. Ford

I felt for sure there'd be a "PS, say hello to Brian." No such luck.

I was captivated by politics by reading about JFK and watching the example of my best friend's dad and my own father. I was crushed when Nixon resigned. As John Chancellor narrated Richard Nixon's walk to the helicopter and that awful wave, I walked into my parents' den with a photo the White House had sent me when I had written to him... and without saying a word, tore it to pieces. At age 9, I knew nothing of what an Erlichman a Liddy or a water gate was. "Was that something like a dam?"

Yeah. Something like it. But I knew enough that he was the--no--The President, he'd betrayed The Country and that was bad--no--Bad.

GRFPortrait.jpgThis new President, though... Mom wept when he said our "long national nightmare" was over. He asked a nation that had not given him their votes to "confirm him with your prayers." And so we did. I'd never known anyone called Gerald before, but I invited him to come to town. In getting the brush-off, though, I gained a new portrait to hang on my wall. And so I did.  And there it stayed, until replaced by Jaclyn Smith (my favorite Angel).

In a tumultuous age when the suffix “gate” was first shackled to the notion of scandal, you said that “none of us are more than caretakers of this great country,” and you showed us that with honesty, courage, sacrifice, and what you called “the quality of the ordinary, the straight, the square” the Republic would endure. And so it did.

Now you have taken your leave of us in another tumultuous age. Two nations are burying former presidents, and the front pages are a study in contrasts between majesty and the macabre: grandeur for our former leader/the gallows for theirs. That is cast-iron irony—the kind that leaves a mark.

This morning, I showed these letters to my 10 year-old boy who is gaining his own awareness of politics, and I told him your story. We’ll get through these times, too. I sure as heck don’t know when, but you showed us how.

“The ultimate test of leadership,” you said, “is not in the polls you take, but the risks you take. In the short run, some risks prove overwhelming. Political courage can be self-defeating. But the greatest defeat of all would be to live without courage, for that would hardly be living at all.”

So thank you, Mister President. I guess it’s okay that you didn’t come to Watertown. Your letter did, and you are in the prayers of those “future generations” you wrote about—and worked to keep from harm.

Thursday
Dec282006

The Brotherhood of the Christmas Pants

366478-610262-thumbnail.jpgOn Christmas Eve, I wore these pants... the red ones... and I did so freely and without mental reservation or purpose of evasion.

And so did my brother, my uncle, four of my five cousins*, and my two brothers-in-law.

We all find our ways to rebel our elder generation... or turn into them.

It all started in the Ford Administration: That time of sideburns, "Sidecars," and sour mix.  Dad and Uncle Jack used to wear the goofiest pants on Christmas Eve.  Dad was all about the plaid (my favorite color).  And at some point, Uncle Jack happened upon corduroy... loud corduroy.  For years hence, The Five of Us (my sibs and I) and The Five of Them (our cousins) used to mock them.

Now we wear them. 

Thanks to Steve, we've all been in style and in these cords for about four or five years.  The latest addition was this year, when new bro-in-law Rob was initiated into the Honourable Order. 

Christmas Pants 06a.jpgCombined, we had four pair of Green/Canes, three pair of Red/Wreaths, one pair of Blue/Holly and one out-of-circulation pair of Screamin' Green/Sleighs.  Those would be Uncle Jack's.  He's got some deal with the Smithsonian and the folks at duPont that keeps them preserved.  Combined, we also had a blood/alcohol level that was off the charts!!

"Some day," I told my eldest son.  "You, too will act like us.  You may not dress like us, but the gene pool being the way it is, you will act like us."

"Can't I just get a tattoo instead," he asked.

Come to think of it, with a tattoo, he'd be much less in danger of getting beat up if stopping for gas on the way home. 

"Hmm.  Let me think that over, son."

Merry Christmas!

 

(*One Blue/Holly cousin was absent.)

 

Tuesday
Dec262006

A Memorable Scituation

366478-610193-thumbnail.jpgAccording to the Historical Society, it flashes four times a minute... every 15 seconds.

By my count, that's some 42 million times since you took me there during Christmas Break 1986 (42,076,800 to be exact... counting the 5 leap years).  And still the candle burns.

Now, 20 years later, in case you happen to be reading, I just wanted you to know that I remembered... and remember. 

Thursday
Dec212006

Come laugh with me, the best is yet to come

Within one block of a major thoroughfare jammed to near gridlock by impatient, irritable (and irritating) holiday shoppers, candles flickered, food was prepared, wine was decantered.

366478-603474-thumbnail.jpgA door was opened.  And we came.  At the core are three people whose friendship will turn twenty years old when the New Year dawns.  Three who, in that time, have assembled four (or perhaps three and a half) engagements, two marriages, four children, 10 occupations, a handfull of funerals, separation of time and distance.

As we moved through the blur of our friendship amid comrades and cousins, brothers and others... refreshing a bond that may stretch but will never break, I heard within the laughter and Christmas carols the unspoken whisper...

Come laugh with me, the best is yet to come.

Tuesday
Dec122006

Hidden in an envelope in my briefcase

Note_0001.jpg

Thursday
Dec072006

40 = (15+25) = 40  [Again]

lenono2.jpgClose your eyes, have no fear.
The monster's gone, he's on the run, and your Daddy's here.

He was 40. 

Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful,
Beautiful boy.

I was 15. 

Before you go to sleep, say a little prayer.
Every day, in every way, it's getting better and better.

It was my first "I remember where I was when I heard the news..." 

Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful,
Beautiful boy.

It snowed the next day in Connecticut.  My family went out to pick out our Christmas tree.  I stayed home watching the Dakota vigil on TV.

Out on the ocean, sailing away.
I can hardly wait to see you come of late.
But I guess we'll both just have to be patient.

Listening to this song.

'Cause it's a long way to go; a hard row to hoe.
Yes, it's a long way to go, but in the meantime.

That he wrote to his child.

Before you cross the street, take my hand.
Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans.

I didn't feel what it meant...

Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful,
Beautiful boy.

Until I sang it to mine. 

Darling, darling,
Darling,
Darling Sean.

Now I'm 40.

Goodnight Sean.

Watching the wheels go round.

See you in the morning.

Fade to black.

All those years ago...