Afterword
The average temperature in the Waco/Crawford area of Texas in May is...just about anything degrees. It could be 30, or it could be 90. Generally, the natives say it's a beautiful month, with temperatures ranging from the upper 50s all the way to the mid-80s. As I passed through Waco Regional Airport at 11:00 in the morning, the outside temperature reading at the Hertz kiosk was 89°. There were thunderstorms in the local forecast for later in the afternoon. I was headed to the ranch in Crawford to do a final, follow-up interview for this book with George W. Bush. He had graciously told his aides to book me "all the time I needed," although I knew that it would be wise not to take that bit of generosity literally.
After passing through security at the front gate, the former President met me as I got out of my car with his usual jocular style intact. He was wearing blue jeans, a short-sleeve Western shirt, and cowboy boots. He looked tan and fit. "Honey, the arthur's here!" yelled George W. Bush in the general direction of the front screen door. He had apparently taken a liking to me because I had been the first journalist to completely buy into the story of his dreams. I was still part of a small club. He had thus favored me with a nickname–Author–that had somehow became Arthur. That was alright with me. I was happy to have the interview.
"Oh, hello Arthur," said Laura Bush through the screen, oblivious to my real name. "What do you prefer–Art? Artie?"
"Anything's fine," I said, not wanting to spoil the moment.
"Would you like some tea, Art? Lemonade?"
"Whatever you are having, ma'am."
"Honey, why don't you bring me'n' Artie a couple of big glasses of lemonade out here on the porch," said George W. Bush. I was Artie from then on.
We settled in with our lemonades for a considerable amount of small talk about baseball, cow mating, and different types of indigenous trees, and I began to get anxious that my time would suddenly come to an end without getting to a single question. So I made a fumbling show of taking my tape recorder out of my bag and placed it on the table between us, as I had done in our previous sessions. The broad hint worked, and we soon got down to business.
Mr. President, how are you feeling?
Me? I've never felt better. How about you?
I'm fine, thank you. What I meant was, how does it feel coming down off of that mountain, the mountain of being the most powerful man in the world? There must be a change, or an adjustment of some kind.
Well, certainly the stress level's gone down about a thousand percent That's probably why I've never felt better, heh-heh-heh. Not dealin' with Congress will help your blood pressure numbers, that's for sure. But, no, you talk about that mountain; that's a lonely mountain up there, Artie. You're incredibly busy, and at the same time you're incredibly alone.
Are you staying busy?
Actually, I made a promise to Mrs. Bush that I wouldn't do anything for two months after we left the White House, but now she's just about ready to kill me. I don't do 'nothing' very well. But I have invitations lined up for...years to speak in different countries, so I believe I'll stay busy.
Have you had a chance to talk to President Kerry? And how do you think he's done in his first few months on the job?
You know, the President's Club is a real small fraternity. There's only a few of us who know how it really feels. I'm uh, not about to start criticizing the new President, but yeah, we've talked a couple of times, mostly procedural stuff, how-to stuff, you know. He's a fine man, and I gotta believe he'll do a great job.
You don't have any criticisms of his 100-day plan?
Well, I'm a Conservative, so I'm always on the record as bein' against raising anybody's taxes. I don't think that's a scoop, by the way. I'll leave it at that.
So let's get to the nuts and bolts–
I like nuts–don't care for bolts. I'm a nut guy, heh-heh-heh.
Very well. Let's just get to the nuts, then. As you look back over your four years as President, do you have any regrets?
Anybody that knows me knows that I don't do 'regrets' well. I like to, uh, look forward rather than dwell on things I can't change. Now, I know that's probably not the answer you're lookin' for, Artie, so lemme think on it for a minute...You know, I wish, and this isn't really a regret, per se, but I wish that I had come to some of the opinions that I ultimately came to a little earlier in the game. It would've spared the American people a lotta anxiety about another war. But I guess we learn what we learn when we learn it. Gee, that's profound. Is that good enough? Oh, I regret that I'm not a better singer, heh-heh-heh.
How do you want to be remembered?
I'm not dead! I believe I have a little more time on the earth left!
I'm sorry. What I meant was, how do you want your years as President to be remembered?
That's a better question, Artie. I thought you wanted me to write my eulogy. I hope the American people know that I tried to keep 'em safe, keep 'em secure. I did what I said I was gonna do, tried to tell the truth, and didn't send their loved ones into Harm's Way unless it was absolutely the last resort. It's the very worst part of the job, having to console a grieving spouse, or mother, or family member. And they're mad at you, and they have every right to be.
I can't even imagine–
No, you can't.
What do you see as your primary mission going forward. What is going to be the main public focus of your post-Presidential life?
Peace. World peace. 'Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.' You know that song? We sing it in the Sunday school at our church. Simple thought. But it's true. I plan on using all that popularity that I supposedly have around the world to agitate for peaceful solutions to disputes. My personal emphasis is going to be on Israel-Palestine. I know that one isn't going to be easy, and has tripped up people far more clever than me. But you can't fault me for tryin'.
Are you absolutely satisfied, still, with your decision to stop the Iraq War? Would you have done anything differently? Sadadam Hussein is still there. He outlasted your father, and now you.
Well, Hitler outlasted Roosevelt, but things didn't end well for him, did they? These things don't always happen in our timing. Saddam Hussein will get what's coming to him. I have no doubt about that whatsoever. But as far as the decision to stop the war when I did? Wow, it's the best single thing I ever did. Except maybe marry Laura. No, definitely put marrying Laura first. But, you know, whenever I start havin' any doubts at all...wait a minute, I'll be right back."
George W. Bush shot out of his chair and dashed into the house. He still moved like he was twenty-five, not going on sixty. After about a minute he came back out with an envelope in his hand. "I keep this letter in the top drawer of my desk in my office here at the ranch. This isn't the only one I've gotten like this, but this one...somehow touched me in a way...I don't know, I just keep comin' back to it. It's from a lady up your way, Artie–Northern California." He pulled the letter out of his pocket, and put on his glasses, and then began to read:
"Dear Mr. President,
Your decision to halt the war in Iraq before it started was an extremely courageous one, given the political pressure that you must have been under. I only want you to know how a decision like that effects real Americans like me. My son enlisted in the Army and was assigned to the 82nd Light Field Regiment of the First Cavalry Division, which was getting ready to ship out for Iraq at the end of February, 2003. I was very anxious for him, as he has always been a gung-ho kind of kid. I never told him this, but I had a bad feeling about him going over there. When you stopped the war in its tracks, I had an overwhelming feeling of relief and joy. As a mother of a soldier, I am sure that I was not the only one who felt that way.
Thank you so much for sparing my son of God only knows what. He's a good kid, and as soon as he gets out of the service, he is going to enroll in college and find work in this area.
Thanks again for what you did. I will pray that you will find your just reward for your gift of peace to humanity.
God bless,
Cindy Sheehan
Vacaville, California"
The President's eyes were moist as he returned the letter to its envelope. It looked by the shape of it like he had done so many times. "You know, Artie, I never get tired of readin' that letter. I dunno, you asked me do I still feel the same way, uh, am I still satisfied with my decision on Iraq? You read a mom's letter like this one, and, you know that there are a lot more moms out there that feel that way. Geez–I'd do the same thing over again a thousand times."
George W. Bush looked out over his property, past the huge pile of logs he had chopped a year and-a-half ago that his fireplaces hadn't begun to consume, out past a stand of old growth oak trees, out where the outline of a lake was barely visible. He suddenly began to chuckle. "You know, Mo Levison would hate to hear this, 'cause I never wrote him back, but I actually wrote this Sheehan lady and thanked her for her thoughts and prayers, and then she wrote me back, and for the very first time in my life, I have a pen pal! And now that I'm unemployed, I actually have time for something like this." The President couldn't seem to quite get over this most unusual turn of events.
The President's leg was starting to jiggle, and he began working on a fingernail. I could feel that it was getting to be time to leave, so as I began to put my equipment back in my bag, I asked about Mo Levison.
"Mo? He's great. He was down here in April. But I suspect that I'm going to be seeing less of Mo for a while."
Before I could ask why, the President answered with a wink, "He has a lady friend. Oh yeah, ol' Mo is still a lady's man. She's probably a Liberal, just like he is, and they'll probably fall all over themselves saving the world from Lord only knows what. But seriously, I hope Mo finds the lady of his life to ride off into the sunset with. He deserves it. Every good man deserves a great woman. And of that, I have no personal doubt whatsoever."
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