100 (Plus One Day)

Yesterday was the centennial of George Bush — Bush 41, George H. W. Bush, Bush the Elder — born on June 12, 1924. I did not know anything about it until I saw a tweet — a tweet from a former president, a Democrat:

In the old days, I sort of resented the friendship between Bush and Clinton. Maybe I was too much of a partisan — I don’t know. Anyway, I see that friendship differently now.

As far as I know, the Republicans made nothing of the Bush centennial. Why would they, honestly? The nature of the party has completely changed. The Republicans are about to nominate Donald Trump for the third time in a row. For president.

George Bush was — what? A naval aviator in World War II. Flew 58 combat missions. A congressman. The U.S. ambassador to the United Nations. Chairman of the Republican National Committee. Envoy to China. CIA director. Vice president. President.

And a damn good guy. A classic American. I’m glad for his life.

He was born into the “elite,” you could say — the “Eastern seaboard elite” (though he made his career in Texas). He was part of the big bad “establishment.” So what? The truth is, there are good and bad men from the “establishment.” Good and bad men from a humble background. The world is full of individuals, for better or worse.

When Bush was a schoolboy, people called him “Have Half.” He was a “share-y” kind of kid. He’d pull out a sandwich, turn to the guy next to him, and say, “Here: have half.”

As comedians and mimics often noted, Bush could speak choppily — avoiding the singular, first-person pronoun. “Not gonna do it,” as opposed to, “I’m not going to do it.” This stemmed from childhood. When the Bush kids went on about themselves, their mother would say, “I think we’ve heard enough of the Great I Am.”

Bush was the youngest pilot in the Navy. He enlisted on his 18th birthday. One day, he was shot down, and rescued by the USS Finback. Someone filmed the operation, as we can see here.

So, he went to college late — Yale — because of the war. (So did Bill Buckley.) He was captain of the baseball team. I have always liked the pictures of him with Babe Ruth.

Ruth had traveled to Yale to present the college with the manuscript of his autobiography. “It has lots of fun and a lot of laughs,” he said, “and a lot of crying, too.” (To read about this, go here.)

Over the years, I have recalled the speech Bush gave in 1988, at the Republican convention (New Orleans), which was nominating him — nominating him for president. (He was vice president at the time.) He addressed the question of American “decline” — a hot topic then, as now. He addressed the question of America’s place in the world.

Are we to be “another pleasant country on the U.N. roll call, somewhere between Albania and Zimbabwe”? Or are we, instead, “a unique nation with a special role in the world”?

Personally, I understand the desire for peace and quiet — for a rest, after decades of world leadership and its burden. The thing is: though you might want to let the world alone, the world may not oblige and let you alone.

In that speech, Bush also said something memorable about civil society. I quote him often — as I did yesterday, when speaking about the children’s chorus in Jacksonville, Fla. I called it a “point of light.”

Let me quote, now, from a post I wrote in July 2018:

Sometimes, when people attack something you love, you’re reminded of how much you love it. That happened to me last night, as I was reading about President Trump’s latest rally. I refer to Bush the Elder’s concept of civil society as “a thousand points of light.”

In his rally, Trump knocked both Bush and John McCain, and had tender, defensive words about Vladimir Putin. “You know what? Putin’s fine. He’s fine. We’re all fine.”

Uh-huh.

Trump also said, “What the hell was that, by the way, ‘thousand points of light’? What did that mean? Does anyone know? I know one thing: ‘Make America Great Again,’ we understand. Putting America first, we understand. ‘Thousand points of light,’ I never quite got that one.”

I believe that was honest.

When Bush lost to Bill Clinton in 1992 — when the people chose Clinton over Bush — I took it very, very hard. Bush took it better, I’m sure. He was gracious in victory, gracious in defeat. It was his nature.

To a journalist, Walt Harrington, he said something poignant. Harrington had been invited to the White House Christmas party that year — 1992. In a private moment, the president said to him, “You know the worst thing about it, Walt? The embarrassment. It’s just so embarrassing.” Bush was talking about his election defeat.

It must be embarrassing, yes — very. But Bush took it like a man. He did not try to reverse the election. He did not whip up a mob to attack the U.S. Congress for the purpose of stopping a constitutional process.

Everyone has his own idea of how a man behaves.

People called Bush “goofy,” and I suppose he could be, sometimes. But the “goofiness,” I usually found endearing. “I do not like broccoli. And I haven’t liked it since I was a little kid. And my mother made me eat it. Now I’m president of the United States. And I’m not gonna eat any more broccoli!”

Amen. When I brought this up with Jeb Bush, he said, “He liberated us all from that one.” (I have a friend who says — I love this — “I consider broccoli a vessel for cheese.”)

Barbara Bush said something remarkable — one of the most remarkable things you’ll ever hear a wife and mother say: “I have four sons, and they’re all handsome — but nothing like their father.” When I mentioned this to Jeb, he said, “It’s true.”

Bush had a good head of hair, always. In 2013, he shaved it all off — in solidarity with a two-year-old boy, who had leukemia and was undergoing chemotherapy. (The boy was the son of one of his Secret Service agents.) That was so Bush.

(In 1953, George and Barbara Bush lost a child to leukemia — their daughter Robin, who was three years old.)

I find myself quoting 41 — using his phrases. “Like ugly on ape.” “Tension City.” “I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck, you know.” He was so American, that guy. Language trivialities aside, I admired him. I admire him still. He was not for everyone — then again, no one is, including you and me.

There’s a lot more to say about George Bush, of course. You could write whole books about him, and people do — including his son George W. (41: A Portrait of My Father). But I just wanted to salute him on his centennial, plus one day.