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Mrs. Bush (and Mrs. Robinson)
A glimpse of Barbara Bush:
One summer day just over a dozen years ago, my wife and I took the kids to Kennebunkport to meet the Bushes. The former president greeted us, showed the kids around Walker’s Point–riding a Segway (his legs were already giving out), while our five children, then aged from 12 to two, trailed along, George Bush looked like a high-tech pied piper–ending the tour at the pool. There he opened the pool house, explained that at Walmart’s a few days before he had bought two swimsuits in every size, and began tossing suits to our kids. As they went inside the pool house to suit up, President Bush excused himself, climbing back on the Segway to return to his office for a telephone call. Within a few moments, the Robinson children were screaming and giggling and performing cannonballs into the pool. And a few moments after that, Barbara Bush appeared.
She was wearing a white terrycloth robe and carrying a snorkel. She surveyed the scene, puzzled–evidently no one had told her to expect us–then shouted to the children to climb out of the pool. The children gathered around her. “I’m old,” Mrs. Bush explained, “and my doctor tells me I need to swim every day. But I can’t swim if you’re splashing all over, so you to choose one side–either side you want–and I’ll take the other. Do we have a deal?” For the next 20 minutes, the former First Lady performed slow laps on one side of the pool while the Robinson children played Marco Polo on the other.
After her swim, Mrs. Bush chatted briefly with me and my wife. Then she mischievously told me to keep an eye on the kids. “I’m taking Edita with me.” Mrs. Bush had Edita, whom she was meeting for the first time, join her in the hot tub, where they spent a quarter of an hour chatting. “I was a little nervous at first,” Edita told me later, “but she made me feel as if we were just two moms.” They talked about raising little kids, and discovered that my wife and Mrs. Bush’s daughter, Doro, had a couple of friends in common. And Mrs. Bush talked about the difficulties of family life. “We just came back from Houston,” Mrs. Bush told Edita. “The big medical complex dedicated a new cancer wing. We didn’t know it was going to be dedicated to Robin [the daughter the Bushes lost to leukemia when she was three]. They pulled back the curtain, and there it was, ‘The Robin Bush Center.’ Needless to say, George and I both burst into tears.'”
But as I say, Edita told me about their conversation afterwards. While they were in the hot tub, I was only aware of that our children splashing and laughing–and that Mrs. Bush thought I needed help keeping them under control. “You!” she would shout every so often at one of the kids. “No running on the pool deck!”
That was Barbara Bush. Both tough and gracious, a woman who knew her share of sorrows but made it all look easy even so. Take a good look at her smile in the photo I snapped. It displays one part sheer enjoyment of a summer day in Maine and one part the pleasure of having had a good talk with a fellow mother. But it also displays one part amusement. All I had to do was keep a pool of children under control, but even then I needed her help. Likewise her husband the forty-first president, her son the forty-third, and everyone else in her life. Everyone relied on her–and she knew it.
Published in General
Peter,
The good really are good. If this story doesn’t remind us of this I don’t know what would. The wife of a former President and the mother of a current President is as concerned about your children and your wife as any sweet older Aunt might be.
Isn’t it too bad that this country acts as if it has forgotten all of that?
Regards,
Jim
Thanks for sharing the story and the picture.
“Mischievous.” I think that’s a perfect descriptor of Mrs. Bush, and what made her so likable to people who only knew her because of her public life. It was a stand-out feature of her personality.
My mom might have used the word, “ornery.” It takes one to know one.
When I was seventeen years old Mrs. Bush threw out the first pitch for the 1990 World Series. The Cincinnati Reds hosted Game One and catcher Joe Oliver handled the responsibility. A sold out crowd at Riverfront cheered and Mrs. Bush beamed, as did Joe Oliver.
It isn’t revealed in the video, but Mrs. Bush gave Joe a kiss on the cheek. He looked like a kid getting a kiss from his Mom before a Little League game, and accordingly, he blushed. Watching at home with Dad, I couldn’t help but feel a stamp of approval for our small-market team going against a heavy favorite. The Reds swept, and for some reason I always remembered that moment. I simply thought she was magic, or at least the moment was.
“Mighty” is probably a better word. I don’t think many would argue. She lent us a bit of her power for a week or so. It’s an odd memory out of so many, but one that never faded, probably because it seems more personal. Thanks for sharing one of your personal memories, Peter.
Loved the story – I changed political parties when GW was running – my first Republican vote. I’ve read a lot about this family and their contributions to our country and worldwide and appreciate them.
Thank you, Peter, for a great glimpse of a marvelous woman.
I’m reminded of the thousands that were crowded together below the window of the Papal apartment as Pope John Paul II was passing. They began to applaud, applauding a life well lived. This is how I feel today, applauding Barbara Bush, a wife, mother, and grandmother, and her life, a life well lived. May she rest in peace.
Thank you, Peter, for a wonderful story.
I met Vice-President Bush when I was a Cadet First Class at the USAF Academy. It was during the summer between my Junior and Senior year at the Academy and I worked as crew on Air Force 2 for a trip to Ohio. He was busy, only shook my hand before he departed on his day in Ohio – but we were granted the use of his office. I called my mom, who worked in the warehouse of a German Chemical corporation in Mobile Al.
“Hi Mom”
“Hi Honey, where are you?”
“On Air Force 2, calling you from the Vice-President’s desk”
“No Way” – (Paraphrased – she actually referred to fecal matter)
“Yes way” (I had no need to refer to fecal matter)
I got to tell her the story of how I got to be there – pre-movement opsec had been preserved.
Then I worked with the Galley Staff to feed him and the entourage, (yep, no broccoli in his salad, but I was considering sauteing the florets in a mild red wine, creamy sauce to de-sensitize him to the vegetable – but I was overruled)
I have gotten to say I “cooked” for the VP of the US ever since.