I will always be grateful for the lessons of kindness I learned from my beloved dad.
—Doro Bush Koch
We’ve talked a lot so far about what it was that made President Bush such an effective leader: Character, Courage, Decisiveness, Loyalty.
Maybe it’s time we talk about that very big heart of his.
He would be the first to tell you that whether he was flying off an aircraft carrier in the South Pacific; playing baseball at Yale; drilling oil wells in Texas; heading the CIA; or being President of the United States, his life mantra never changed:
Faith, family, and friends.
For his Yale fiftieth-reunion book, he and the others were asked to write a short essay about who they were after fifty years:
Well, I am a happy man, a very happy man. I used to be a government employee, holding a wide variety of jobs. So many, in fact, that my wife Barbara became fond of saying “Poor George, he cannot hold a job.”
… Yes, I am the George Bush that once was President of the United States of America. Now, at times, this seems hard for me to believe. All that is history and the historians in the future will sort out the bad things I might have done from the good things. My priorities now are friends, family, and faith.—George Bush.
We will talk about faith in the final chapter; this chapter is all about his big heart, as shown through stories shared by his family and friends.
We’ll start with family.
It was from them he drew his peace and strength. As he once wrote about Kennebunkport, where the very large extended Bush-Walker clan gathered every summer:
My sons and daughter all come home to this special place. So do our grandkids, cousins, brothers, sister, nieces, nephews. They all come home to Kennebunkport, Maine, for this is our anchor to windward. When the storms of life are threatening it is here that all of us get comfort and strength. When we seek tranquility or say our prayers for peace we come here. It is here we count our many blessings.
Here are some of the family’s stories and thoughts about the man whom they considered not only their dad/gampy/uncle/cousin, but also their patriarch.
Doro Bush Koch, daughter:
When I was a mother of two children and newly divorced in my twenties, Dad taught me the importance of unconditional friendship and love.
Understanding that a divorce is never one-sided, Dad immediately reached out to my former husband the summer after our divorce for a round of golf. This gesture of kindness had a ripple effect that spread across our family and his. It turned something that was very painful and raw into something more bearable. It set the tone for how our families would engage with each other from then on. In fact, it was the seed of kindness from which many other kindnesses have grown. I will always be grateful for the lessons of kindness I learned from my beloved dad.
Lizzie Andrews, granddaughter:
Gampy1 was the best role model. He treated everyone in the room as his equal, was kind, humble, and always had a funny joke up his sleeve. As a step-granddaughter, I was pretty shy when I first joined the family, but he always made me feel just as special as every other grandchild. I always admired his quiet confidence and his unique ability to make those around him feel loved and included.
Noelle Bush, granddaughter:
Gampy always taught me to be humble; to be a hard worker; to go to church; and to pray every night.
Pierce Bush, grandson:
I learned about how not to take yourself too seriously, and that celebrity status doesn’t mean very much compared to your relationships with your friends and family.
At the end of the day, people are just people.
I learned this lesson when we went to the Super Bowl in February 2002 in New Orleans right after 9/11. Gampy was flipping the coin to start the game with legendary Dallas Cowboys quarterback Roger Staubach. The evening before the big game, we got invited to the NFL owners party at the D-Day Museum, now the official National WWII Museum. It was an amazing experience with a special tour before the dinner led by historian Stephen Ambrose himself.
There were all kinds of hotshots at this event, and as a precocious fifteen-year-old, I was a bit overwhelmed by it all. Gampy could tell, and he pulled me aside during the cocktail hour.
Hey, Pierce, this is what I like to call name-dropper’s paradise, he said, nudging my side with his elbow. Scanning the room, he observed Rupert Murdoch, the owner of News Corp, eating an appetizer off a tray right in front of us. He pointed to him and said, Pierce, does Rupert know you yet?
U2 singer Bono was there, too, and Gampy asked the same question.
Does Bono know you yet?
It was such a funny way to frame up asking if I had met these famous people, and it certainly made me less intimidated to be at this fancy party that I had no business being at!
Gigi Koch, granddaughter:
My favorite thing in the world was being able to spend the summer with my grandparents in Maine. I remember one rainy afternoon, Gampy asked my mom and me what we were doing. He said he was taking out Fidelity and told us to bundle up. I remember being slightly surprised and feeling just a little hesitant. It was pouring outside! My mom, who takes after my grandfather in her love of being on the water and her sense of adventure, was all in. So we put on our rain gear and headed out to the boat with him. The seas were big and rough and it was still pouring rain. That didn’t stop us from flying. Gampy loved being on his boat more than anyone I know, and he loved bringing that joy to others, even if it meant coming home soaking wet. He turned ordinary moments into the most fun.
Lauren Bush Lauren, granddaughter:
My grandfather was so many things to so many people, but to me he was simply a loving grandfather.
Even though he was President of the United States, he continued to move through the world with a lot of humility and love. Of course my vantage point as a granddaughter was of my grandfather not in the Oval Office (though we grandkids could be known to sneak in there from time to time to snoop around), but my grandfather was out of the spotlight more during Sunday taco meetups in Houston after church, on family trips, and during summers spent in his beloved Maine. And during this time, he never took himself too seriously. He was present and enjoying life—his boat, his dogs, his family, and lots of constant competitions and activities from tennis, backgammon, horseshoes, and more.
He had an ongoing challenge to the grandkids that the first grandkid to beat him in a set of tennis would be rewarded with $100, or BIG folding green as he would call it. I was in high school and had recently joined my tennis team, though an average player. But Gampy was in his late seventies, so I thought that I had a pretty good shot of beating him simply because I could still hustle for the ball and had that youthful endurance on my side.
We started our game at Walker’s Point, and soon there was a crowd gathered to watch. He was still agile but not able to run for the ball like he used to. But what he could do were lots of strategic and artful drop shots and lobs. Between the crowd of family and friends watching and Gamp’s tricky shots, I was not on my A game. Then a few games into what I remember being a somewhat tight match, he put on a baseball hat that had an angler fish going through it with a tail that would flop when you pushed a button. It was the final straw of distraction that caused me to lose the match. But it was all in good humor and fun!
Now that I am older, I can appreciate even more how he purposefully created special moments and rituals with family and friends that were filled with joy and humor, which is something I now aim to do with my family and friends. My tennis match with Gampy was also a life lesson in how to lean into your strengths, which in my grandfather’s case were a big cheering crowd, lobs and drop shots, and a funny fish hat. And that win or lose, it was more about the fun of being together.
To this day the tennis court at Walker’s Point, now converted to two pickleball courts, is still where my family gathers daily in the summer for some fierce but friendly competitions. Gampy’s spirit lives on.
Ashley Bush LeFevre, granddaughter:
The men in my family are not afraid to cry.
I’ve watched my dad, Neil, completely break down over an emotional episode of Touched by an Angel (or pretty much any toast he gives to someone he loves). My brother, Pierce, lost it at both my sister’s and my wedding. My uncle George famously sheds tears on the national stage from time to time.
And then there’s my grandfather—Gampy, the original crier. The one who showed them—all of us—how to feel these intense emotions life throws at us. You don’t sweep it under the rug to look more powerful, more in control, more effective. Instead, you embrace the sadness, the joy, the heartbreak, the tears.
Ten years ago, at one of our favorite Tex-Mex restaurants, I was asking Gampy about his life, posing questions like: “Who was your best friend growing up?” He’d either respond right away or direct me to Ganny. My grandmother was Gampy’s historian, remembering the smallest details of his life—of their life.
But one question hit harder. I asked my grandfather: “You’ve lived such an incredible life, is there a memorable event that stands out among the others?”
I thought it was a no-brainer: the day he was elected President of the United States! Instead, he sat in silence for a long beat. I was getting ready to ask Ganny what hers was when I realized my grandfather was crying. He was no longer sitting at that table, but deep in thought about someone, something. He finally looked up at me, tried unsuccessfully to compose himself, and then through tears recounted the harrowing day he lost two of his crew members during World War II.
I remember the waitstaff at the restaurant being alarmed, and quickly forgoing the water service. Gampy was eighty-eight years old when I was quizzing him about his extraordinary life, but the memories of his twenty-year-old self were so vivid, so fresh. The heartbreak so real.
Not a single day passes where I don’t think about those two men who lost their lives too early.
Gampy was a young Navy pilot when his aircraft was hit by enemy fire. His two crew members, Lieutenant Junior Grade William White and Radioman Second Class John Delaney, did not survive. It was an emotional touchstone that undoubtedly shaped the rest of his life. And instead of trying to forget that horrifying incident, Gampy made sure he thought about it every single day.
To witness a man who has lived such a powerful and extraordinary life be so vulnerable and grieve so publicly was such a testament to the kind of leader he chose to be: compassionate, thoughtful, resilient. By example, Gampy encouraged all of us to live deeply, to feel everything, and to not be afraid when the tears start rolling.
Ellie LeBlond Sosa, granddaughter:
Gampy taught us about the importance of a hard-earned dollar from a young age. He would ask us if we wanted to make some “folding green.” My cousins and I would jump at the opportunity because: (a) We loved our Gampy; and (b) we would use the money to buy candy from the candy store in Kennebunkport.
He’d pull his socks off and hand us the lotion, and we’d get to work, massaging his tired feet. After we were done we were pumped when he’d hand over a couple of crisp dollar bills. Looking back, I think we should have charged more!
Jody Bush, sister-in-law:
Right after George dropped out of the presidential race in 1980, he and Barbara hosted Neil’s first wedding in Kennebunkport. I know they were pretty down—I think everyone thought George’s political career was over. But on Neil’s wedding day, George erased his ego, erased all thoughts of himself. He was the groom’s father. He wanted it to be a day of celebration for his family; not about him. I have never forgotten that.
Billy Bush, nephew (from 41ON41):
He’s so compassionate and kind and giving and always thinking about somebody else. And he’ll always put himself last… you can’t be around President Bush and not come away a better person yourself. It’s impossible. He’ll rub off on you.
Jamie Bush, nephew:
Uncle George was President when my six-year-old Sam and I were down on the pier at Walker’s Point. Sam was holding his $10 Cape Porpoise hardware store fishing rod, expecting to catch a fish any minute. It would have been the first fish ever caught from that pier.
The Leader of the Free World walked through on his way to his office when he paused and then came out to us, curious, as he’d never seen anyone fish there.
Whatcha doin’, boys?
“Fishing!” says Sam.
Can I look at your equipment?
The President takes the rod, examines it closely, and says: Want to come up to the house? Maybe I can find you some equipment that might improve your chances.
When we get there, Uncle George starts going through the hall closet looking for stuff, meanwhile handing Sam various items like the Bulls NBA championship ball signed by Michael Jordan and the team, and similar hardware from other teams, saying: Would you hold this, Sam? All the while Sam’s eyes keep widening. Uncle George puts together a tackle box of his own equipment and gives him a rod. Here you go, Sam; see if this makes a difference in your luck.
Then he casually said: By the way, Sam, Roger Clemens2 is here for lunch tomorrow, wanna come up for some horseshoes?
Sam didn’t hear the word “shoes,” as he was out the door on his way to the pool shouting, “Mom? Mom!!! Roger Clemens is COMING HERE!!!”
Sam was never the same, especially as we walked around the last few holes on the golf course with Clemens and Uncle George the next day; then Sam was invited to play horseshoes for five to ten minutes with Clemens and the other Sox.
My takeaway was this: “When you care for/love the least of these, you care for Me.” Uncle George had the gift of seeing every single person as more interesting than himself and treating them as such. There was, for so many of us, as his mother designated him, almost no “self” there. Remarkable, always.
Later that summer Sam was summoned to the Big House one evening because Bucky (Uncle George’s brother) had told the presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church in America that Sam did a great rendition of Cab Calloway’s “Minnie the Moocher.” Picture Sam leading Bishop Allen (on his knees), singing, “Hidee hidee hidee hii! Hodee hodee hodee ho!” with Uncle George seated nearby, vodka in hand, smiling that beatific smile. Those were the days.
Alexander “Hap” Ellis, nephew:
In the spring of 1989, I was contacted by a good friend whose brother had been shot in cold blood with two other young civil rights activists in Mississippi in 1964. Books and even a Hollywood movie have chronicled this shameful moment in our history.3 My friend asked if I would be willing to reach out to my uncle to see if the President would welcome the three families to the White House to commemorate the twenty-fifth anniversary of this terrible tragedy.
The President agreed, and the families gathered in the Oval Office on June 23. I was in Boston and remember thinking I needed to watch the nightly news, as this surely would be a great moment for the families—the Oval Office, after all!—and hopefully for the President.
Well, it certainly was the lead story, but not the one I envisioned. Instead, the story was how family members (not my friend, thankfully) used the meeting, particularly the photo op and the informal press gathering outside afterward, not to memorialize the tragedy of twenty-five years ago, but to press a political agenda and challenge the President’s motives. I was horrified. I immediately called the White House and got through to my aunt, and despite her reassurances, I felt sick to my stomach.
Not three days later, a two-page letter arrived from the White House, wherein my uncle found a way—as he always seemed to do—to say that while he was disappointed, he was not surprised because a meeting in the Oval Office and then with the press corps outside is a rare opportunity for national publicity. He further wrote: I am inclined to discount what was fundamentally, in my view, a rather discourteous performance.
It was yet another example of one of his core leadership tenets: Always be willing to put yourself in “the other guy’s shoes,” even when that person is indeed discourteous if not right down rude. Not to mention his love of family, taking a moment to reassure a worried nephew.
Postscript: By return mail I promised never again to suggest a meeting in the Oval Office.
In the summer of 1991, it was my turn to give the President a little encouragement.
Notwithstanding the earlier, and stunning, success of the Gulf War, my uncle found himself dealing with an increasingly difficult economy and restless voters. I sent him a note saying, “In the words of a Nitty Gritty Dirt Band song, ‘If you ever want to see a rainbow, you gotta stand a little rain.’”
Fast-forward to October, and Reba McEntire invites my aunt and uncle to the Country Music Awards. He tells Reba and the audience that he kept that line “under the glass” on his desk—underscoring how important country music themes were to him and Aunt Bar, and the country. Alas, campaigning in New Hampshire in early 1992, he used the line several times in his stump speech, and while usually citing the band correctly, at one stop he called the band the “Nitty Ditty Nitty Gritty Great Bird.” Unfortunately Maureen Dowd was there, covering the campaign for the New York Times—and yes, of course, it was on the front page the next day.
But I do think that the refrain from the Dirt Band’s “Stand a Little Rain” is quintessentially my uncle.
Robin Ellis, Hap’s wife:
The first time I met President Bush and Aunt Bar was almost fifty years ago.
My second date with my future husband was a traditional Sunday barbecue lunch at his aunt and uncle’s house in Washington. Uncle George was RNC chairman at the time.
He was at the grill cooking burgers and dogs, and Aunt Bar had cooked up her traditional mixture of two kinds of Campbell’s soup. (I think it was a combination of pea and tomato.) And maybe a Bloody Mary was offered also.
I was immediately made to feel completely at home. In the years since that day, the acts of kindness, graciousness, thoughtfulness, loyalty, love, and sense of humor that Uncle George has shown to me, Hap, and our children and daughters-in-law, and even grandchildren are endless.
Just recently Hap and I pulled out a bottle of a very special wine Uncle George had brought with him to an end-of-the-summer dinner at our summer home in Kennebunkport. On the bottle—in gold, indelible ink—he had written:
Hap and Robin—’til we meet again. G.B.
Jim Pierce, nephew:
In 1990, we had a conversation as Uncle George, Aunt Bar, and I traveled from the White House to a political event. His son Neil had been the target of a massive media witch hunt solely because Neil had served as an outside director to a large Colorado-based savings and loan bank that had failed.
The media and certain members of the opposition party were playing “gotcha” with one of the President’s children.
He asked me how I thought Neil was doing, and as he asked the question, his eyes welled up. I told him Neil was just fine, and he would weather the storm. But the pain on his face told me all I needed to know. The Leader of the Free World was feeling the pain only a parent could know.
At the time I was unmarried and children were not part of my life. I saw how he was hurting because of what he saw as an injustice being foisted upon his son. As I think back on that conversation, I do so as the parent of adult children. What I now realize is that they are always children, and no matter how much they mature and embrace their own journeys into adulthood, the basic parental gene never turns off. No matter what is happening in and around one’s life, family comes first.
Uncle George was the Leader of the Free World. Family came first.
It seems appropriate to let his wife of seventy-three years have the last word. After all, she usually did.
Barbara Bush (from 41ON41):
When we were first married, I had no idea what my life was gonna be. Might have scared me if I’d known… I’m thinking nobody in the world has ever had the life I’ve had. I’ve had none of the responsibilities and all the joys of being the wife of George Bush… The other day we were talking about different leaders that we knew—I knew every one of them. Good, bad, or indifferent, thanks to George Bush. I mean, that’s amazing.
… We say we love each other every night. And then we fight over who loves the other one more. And that’s always a nice argument. I win.
And then there were his friends—thousands of them. If he were here, he would not approve of my separating staff, colleagues, acquaintances, and yes, even the journalists from this group of friends. He considered them all friends, as they did him. I hope he forgives me for this transgression.
Just how strongly did President Bush feel about the importance of friends? He wrote this letter to James Baker and Bob Mosbacher4 one day after lunch.
February 5, 2009
Dear Jim and Bob,
As I headed back to the office after our lunch today, I had a serious thought. I wanted to share it with you.
All three of us have had power lunches with famous people. As John Connally5 once put it, “I have dined with kings and potentates.”
But the lunch we had today was simply a lunch between dear friends. We didn’t have an agenda and none of us were trying to get our photo taken by that intrusive, persistent camera lady, who has become a minor pain in the a - -.
All we had was the joy of real friendship and what a treasure and joy it really is. I am a very lucky guy and I know it. And I want to be sure you two know that I feel that way, and that I am grateful to you both—always will be.
We have all sat at “head tables,” but our little table today trumps any head table in the world. When I say my prayers tonight, I will give thanks for the friendships we share and honor.
George
When I reached out to some of 41’s friends and asked them if they wanted to write something for the book, they immediately started filling up my in-box. It was great fun reading all their stories, but there was one problem: Many of them did not address their assignment: What did you LEARN from George Bush?
Then I finally realized that all their stories, although very different, were about one very important lesson he taught us:
How to be a better person.
There are stories about his big heart, about his humility, about his sense of humor.
And how he lived life with joy. He truly believed we were meant to have fun.
Here are some of the people who made his life sing—sometimes literally.
Duane Allen, one of the Oak Ridge Boys:
41 found out that I love to fish, so he told me on a certain day we were going fishing—Joe Bonsall, Donna Sterban,6 and me.
We had barely gotten out of the cove on Fidelity when 41 pushed the hammer down and off we went to only God and 41 knew where. It was full throttle. The Secret Service agents were trying their best to keep up in their boat.
It wasn’t long before we saw the seagulls flying over a certain spot, so we locked down, set our hooks, and got in place with our rods and reels. I got a huge hit immediately, but the fish broke my line. So I reeled in the line and the lure was gone. Immediately 41 handed me another rod and reel, took the one I had, and said, They are hitting your bait. You catch the big one while I fix your line.
For a moment I could have cried. It was more important to 41 for me to have a great time than it was for him to spend his own time fishing.
He reminded me at that moment so much of my daddy. I learned so much from him about how to treat others and how to just be a good man.
The Reverend Ed Becker:
While my sister Jean was President Bush’s chief of staff in his post-presidency, I visited her in Kennebunkport almost every summer. Lucky for me, I was often invited to go out on boat trips with President Bush. He was an expert boatman who had been plying the waters of the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Maine in various types of boats since he was a small child. Watching him at the helm of his boat was like watching a master painter at work at his easel.
One Sunday afternoon President Bush phoned Jean to report that a pod of whales had been spotted close to the coast and he was going to go find them. His daughter Doro was “in”; would we like to go? Of course we said yes!
The reports certainly proved true. We were surrounded by whales. Very large whales. The whales were so close to our boat that we were able to recognize that the same whales that were surfacing and then diving back into the water on the port side of the boat were surfacing and diving again on the starboard side of the boat, and vice versa. So it was obvious that the whales were going back and forth under Fidelity.
It was very exciting—we had never had such an up-close whale-watching experience. President Bush remained cool and calm, looking from side to side and watching the whales as they surfaced and dived back into the water. I remember Doro also remaining very cool and calm, just like her father. After about a minute or so, President Bush slowly moved the boat forward and drove us out of the area. Jean and I continued to be very effusive about our excitement at having just experienced the best whale-watching ever.
Afterward we did wonder if there had been a possibility that we might have been in some danger of a whale causing the boat to capsize. Jean asked President Bush about it, and he assured her that we had not been in any significant danger. And we knew that we had been in the best possible hands with President Bush at the helm. Of course we were safe.
Then a couple of weeks later, there was a report of a couple drowning off the coast of South Africa after a whale tried to surface under their boat and capsized it. Jean and I then realized: Yes, we could have drowned.
Looking back on it, I think President Bush knew that there was at least some risk of a whale capsizing our boat that day, and that he just coolly and calmly assessed the situation and moved us to safety as soon as he knew the best way to do so.
What character lessons did I learn from President Bush from that whale-watching experience? One would certainly be, when possible, to stay calm and keep cool under pressure.
More fundamentally, though, another character lesson to be learned is to have faith and trust in God. I think that the reason why President Bush was able to keep cool under pressure that day in the middle of a pod of whales—as well as at so many other times of his life—was because of his faith. I do not remember President Bush speaking a single word that day while we were in the middle of a pod of whales. Nor do I think I ever had a single conversation with President Bush about his faith. But all of us who knew and loved him knew from his actions and the way he lived his life that he was a man of deep faith who seemed always to trust in God.
Jeff Benson, Navy captain:
As a proud graduate of the Bush School, some of the lessons I learned from President Bush have been a guiding light during my career as a Navy officer.
1. Leadership under fire.
During World War II, 41’s bomber plane was the last to land before other fighter planes began the next landing cycle. As he got out of his bomber, the following aircraft stalled on landing and flipped over next to him. Before the aircraft fell into the water, the blades on the plane killed one sailor by slicing him into three pieces. Bush remembers a chief petty officer on the flight deck vividly saying, “Clean up this ship and let’s get going.” He wrote and talked about this incident numerous times, and the importance of “leadership under fire.”
As the captain of a destroyer deployed in Japan, I experienced several tense situations in the Taiwan Strait and South China Sea. I often reflected on 41’s comment about leadership under fire, a characteristic I feel he demonstrated many times in his lifetime, including when he was shot down. I retold 41’s story to the ship’s crew during an extended deployment as a reminder that you must persevere and keep going in the most challenging situations.
2. Political civility and kindness.
In a time when negativity and attacking the other political party seem to drive current politics, 41 consistently demonstrated over his career acts of civility and kindness as a leader.
In 1969, after President Nixon’s inauguration, President and Lady Bird Johnson departed Andrews Air Force Base for Texas. At the time a congressman from Texas, 41 was the only Republican at the airport to wish them off in person. Regardless of party politics, 41 believed in political civility and respected the office of the President. When asked why he was at the airport, he said: He [President Johnson] has been a fine president and invariably courteous and fair to me and my people, and I thought that I belonged here to show in a small way how much I have appreciated him. I wish I could do more.
This story impacted me during a class with 41 while at the Bush School. There will be disagreements about political issues, but respecting each other, regardless of the political party, is what makes our democracy great.
Dana Carvey, comedian and actor:
One memory of 41 that for me exemplifies his character happened on Election Day 2004. His son George W. Bush was running for reelection and was facing a close race with the Democratic nominee, John Kerry.
My phone rang and on the other end I heard 41’s familiar drawl:
Hi, Dana, George Bush here. How ya doing?
“Well, um, hello, Mr. President. I’m doing fine, thank you. Uh, isn’t your son running for reelection today?”
Well, yeah, he is. But how are you?
I admit that I was surprised to hear from him on this particular day. We had done a number of events together, but he didn’t often call me at home. I thought it must be an emotional and dramatic day for a father whose son was running for a second term as President of the United States. Why would he be thinking about me?
Bar and I saw you on TV last night and wondered how you’re doing. Everything going well in your life? Family all healthy?
“Everything’s going great, Mr. President. Thank you for asking.”
Good, good, that’s good—just wanted to hear your voice, Dana.
I couldn’t help but ask, “And, uh how’s the election going?”
Well, Florida’s tight, but looking good. We’ll see how it goes. Anyway, God bless you and your family.
“Thank you, Mr. President. And thank you for the call. I hope all is well with you.”
We are blessed. Goodbye now.
Ray Chambers, businessman and philanthropist:
In telling this story, I am wonderfully reminded of President Bush as a deeply caring, authentic human being, leader, and man with good humor.
It begins in 1988 with the phrase “a thousand points of light.” The inspirational notion in his convention speech was not campaign jargon for George H. W. Bush. It was his profound belief that volunteers could do an incredible amount of good for the country and for each other. He affirmed that we all possess a warm, bright point of light within us; one that spurs us to help one another.
Born from a luncheon conversation I had with one of the new President’s ambassadors, Joseph Zappala,7 the idea for the Points of Light (POL) Foundation soon became more than a dream. The ambassador introduced me to White House staffer Gregg Petersmeyer, and together we outlined its mission and objectives. Consequently, I had my first meeting with President Bush to discuss the vision, and he asked me to be the founding chairman of the organization. During our conversations about it, the President became almost ethereal with the idea of spreading the light ever further by having more and more people become volunteers. It was core to his way of thinking, and it inspired the entire board, which included former Michigan governor George Romney; John Akers, CEO of IBM; Roberto Goizueta, CEO of Coca-Cola; and many other hugely bright individuals.
President Bush was such an inspirational leader. He was a true living example of a Point of Light. He was a beacon to me of how positively one could live their life, accomplish something as great as being President of the United States, carry the nation through a war with nearly 40 allied nations joining us, and all this time keep his ingrained decency, gentleness, and kindness. It never left him.
Tony Dill, head of the Army’s Golden Knights:8
One of my colleagues was asking about the tandem jumps the Golden Knights made with 41, and he told me about his interaction with President Bush that was twenty years earlier than mine.
When Chuck Fox was a junior in high school in Iowa,9 he and three of his classmates volunteered to help with an event at the Des Moines Civic Center in the run-up to the Republican Caucus in 1980. They were asked to help guide candidates around the skywalks and other parts of the event.
He remembered that all the candidates and their staff were moving around but no one interacted with the helpers. 41 finished up a speech in one of the nearby rooms, and when he came into the hallway, he stopped and shook hands with all the helpers and thanked them for being there. Chuck was awestruck that someone running for President would take the time with the volunteers. His kindness made a huge impact on a kid from Iowa.
I relayed to Chuck that the forty-first President had not changed. I told him how gracious 41 was every time we saw him, and it didn’t matter which VIP or dignitary was present, if he saw our soldiers, he would come over to talk to them.
George Dvorsky, singer/actor:
Their first big public outing after the Bushes left Washington in January 1993 was to see a production of Brigadoon at Houston’s Theatre Under the Stars (TUTS), where I was playing the leading role of Tommy Albright. After the curtain came down, the cast was asked to stay onstage to greet the former President and First Lady. How stunned was I when President Bush walked up to me singing, “Almost Like Being in Love,” which was one of my favorite songs that I sang in the show, so naturally I joined in.
This began a truly wonderful friendship because my career often took me to Maine’s Ogunquit Playhouse in the summers and then more shows at TUTS over the next twenty-five years. They would come backstage at intermission to say hello (and to use my bathroom). They would have all of the privacy they needed.
It wasn’t long before they invited me to sing at numerous parties both at Walker’s Point and at varying venues in Houston. I was told to keep my mini concerts to under twenty-two minutes because President Bush wasn’t shy to say, Okay, let’s wrap it up at the twenty-five-minute mark.
The man loved his music, and how thrilled was I that MY music was a part of that.
Being the last person to sing for him at Walker’s Point in September of 2018, I had my twenty-two minutes carefully planned. But this time he kept saying “more” after every number. I hadn’t planned “more” so I looked at my accompanist and said, “Let’s do this one or that one.” I threw in “Almost Like Being in Love” and was amazed to see President Bush, sitting in his wheelchair, singing right along with me just as he had done twenty-five years earlier in Houston. It was an unforgettable moment recaptured.
Dr. John Eckstein, Mayo Clinic:
President Bush emailed me before 43’s inauguration asking me if there was anything he could take to prevent his crying at the ceremony. I said no, first because there wasn’t a medicine that could guarantee he wouldn’t cry other than a general anesthetic! But more importantly, I said, “Mr. President, you have every reason to shed tears of joy. Let them flow and let the whole nation see what a good, caring, and proud father you are at this momentous event. The American people will love you more than they already do.”
I think he worried the moment called for stoicism and not tears, and as always, he wanted to do the right thing.
The night before President and Mrs. Bush began their annual examinations at Mayo Clinic in Arizona, they would frequently invite Diane and me to dinner, usually at Morton’s Steakhouse. The four of us would have a wonderful conversation and a delicious dinner. Invariably, as soon as other restaurant diners recognized the Bushes, they had no hesitation to come over and ask for an autograph, have their picture taken, or just to chat. Not once did either of them refuse any of their requests or show any irritation. They made each diner feel like the “most important person in the world.” To us, it demonstrated their character and their humanity.
This may be a little too personal, but I think 41 would be okay with my sharing it.
Whenever I did President Bush’s physical examination, the final “act” was the prostate/rectal examination. President Bush would always say, John, do we really have to do this? And I would say, “Yes, sir—we do.”
Before we began, he would head to the bathroom, which was down the hall of our long corridor at Mayo. We would walk out with him, and he would tightly hold his medical gown, which was open in the back behind him. When other patients were walking up or down the corridor, many would recognize him, and those that did would often say “Oh, wow! President Bush, can I shake your hand?”
With that, he would release the back of his gown to shake the hand of the happy patient! And with that, his rear end was wide open to the entire world behind him in the corridor.
Just like in the restaurant, President Bush showed his friendliness, his character, and his willingness to always be the magnanimous person he was all the years that I knew him.
Mike Elliott, a member of the Army’s Golden Knights:
Why one more jump?
That question had to have popped into the heads of 41’s family when they were informed that he wanted to take a tandem skydive on his ninetieth birthday. I was even a bit surprised after watching his health struggles from afar.
But I got the call from Chief of Staff Jean Becker telling me the President planned on taking this jump and that he wanted me to be his jump instructor. This would make the third time he and I would fall through the skies together.
The two previous times jumping with our forty-first President were through the United States Army Parachute Team, the Golden Knights. By the time I received this call, I had retired and established a parachute team called the All Veteran Group so I could continue to share the skills I had learned in the Army.
Why did he pick us?
Why did he pick me?
I realized the former world leader trusted me. We had developed a bond, given our passion of flight together. And when you tandem jump with someone—well, you do become close. Very close. Literally.
It gave me a feeling of pride, of honor, and a myriad of emotions I struggle to even vocalize.
I was reminded of our two other jumps when I shared the skies with our former president. The first was in College Station, Texas, for the rededication of his library. This jump was a secret—a secret he kept from even his Secret Service.10 I remember sitting in his office planning the jump with our Golden Knights team commander, Lieutenant Colonel Tony Dill, and our sergeant major, Michael Eitniear. I had to pinch myself.
I thought to myself: “Here is a young kid from Linden, North Carolina, who only saw presidents on television. He never had a clue that he would be standing arm to arm with a former world leader, much less discussing strapping him to me and falling from over twelve thousand feet in the sky, placing the President’s life literally in my hands!”
The most amazing thing to me was that he was so incredibly kind. So generous. And displayed a smile that showed he was a true giant. It showed he had an amazing character.
And as you well know, character matters.
A day prior to the library rededication jump, Mrs. Bush—or the Silver Fox, as 41 called her—wanted to meet “the guy” and the team that would be taking her husband up twelve thousand feet in the sky. I remember waiting in the foyer of the building across from the library and seeing her coming down the stairs.
She came up to the team, and the sergeant major and the commander introduced themselves and then, as if frozen in time briefly, both of my leaders turned to look at me and pointed in my direction.
“Ma’am, this is Sergeant First Class Mike Elliott. He is going to be ‘the guy’ that is going to tandem jump with your husband.”
I remember looking down at her with a massive smile on my face because she was such a beautiful, radiant vision that embodied what mothers look like as they are smiling at their children. I knew she was going to give me a hug, so I reached down to hug this sweet woman, and she looked up at me and said, “If you hurt him, I will kill you. All of you.”
I laughed a little bit because she had a fun little quirky smile on her face, but it definitely pumped up my mind quite a bit to take extra measures to ensure the tandem jump would go off without a hitch.
And that it did.
Afterward, the President addressed all of us who were there:
Just because you are eighty years old, doesn’t mean you have to sit in the corner and slobber all over yourself. Get out and live. Live your life. Do things that drive you.
And that message sank into my mind. Another lesson learned from this great giant of a man on this earth.
Leading up to his eighty-fifth birthday, the commander and sergeant major received another call from the chief of staff, telling us the President wanted to jump on his birthday, this time in Maine.
A few days before, the advance team, consisting of myself and my good friend Dave Wherley, arrived to figure out the landing zone. We picked Saint Ann’s Episcopal Church, where the Bushes attended services every Sunday in the summer.
We completed our reconnaissance and informed the President we were done, that we had all of the answers we needed to ensure a safe operation and were ready for the show.
He looked at me and Dave and asked us what we were doing for dinner.
“Sir, we don’t have any plans. We’re just going to go do something at a local restaurant.”
Well, Bar and I would like to have you over for dinner.
I looked at Dave and said, “Sir, absolutely. We’ll be back at 6:35.”
The night was surreal as we were sitting there with the Bushes and one of their grandchildren. The President asked us: You boys want a drink?
And again, I found myself pinching myself. I remember thinking: “Here I am, sitting down across from a former world leader and a former First Lady, having a vodka cocktail, and he’s talking about the time he was shot down over the island of Chichijima during World War II.”
The funniest thing is that the Bushes’ dog Bibi was sitting beside me during the conversation, and as I was drinking my cocktail, the dog nipped me on my index finger.
I’ll be honest. It was quite painful.
But I couldn’t scream in pain because you just don’t let that exit your system when a former President is telling you about the time he was shot down over enemy waters during World War II! It was not a time or place to scream. So I did my best to ignore it and smile and get my finger out of Bibi’s mouth.
And then she did it again.
Finally, Mrs. Bush caught on to what was going on, so she stood up, walked out of the room, and proceeded to find a chew toy so Bibi would leave my fingers alone.
It is impossible to describe just how amazing it makes you feel being surrounded by a giant personality and the way he treats people, with an incredible family making memories so few have the joy to experience. The smiles and the jokes and the welcoming nature to make sure you feel part of the family.
President Bush wrote me after the jump:
I am not sure I will ever come down from the high of that jump. I loved every second and now I can truthfully say that being 85 is no big deal. Everyone in this huge city of Kennebunkport seems to have met you and parenthetically seems to be in love with you. Many, many thanks for another fantastic day in my life. You are the best.
Now back to that ninetieth birthday jump.
When you get the message that you are going to take the ninety-year-old former President in an airplane to fall from twelve thousand feet, there are a lot of things that happen mentally. You get a little nervous. Everything changes. Even the way you eat, your workout routine, your daily living changes because you want to make sure that you do your absolute best for him.
You do your best for anyone and everyone attached to you during a tandem skydive, but there is an added element when your passenger is a former President of the United States of America. And he’s ninety. In a wheelchair with Parkinson’s.
Our team flew up a few months prior to sit down and talk with him to see if we could make the ninetieth birthday dream a reality. I knew there would be challenges.
But I didn’t expect this one: The day before the jump, I received a call from Jean Becker: “Mike, we need you over here at the office now.”
I was thinking to myself, “My God, something must have gone terribly wrong.” I immediately left the hotel and raced to his office to hear the news:
“Mike, Mrs. Bush is saying no. There’s a big party planned for tomorrow night and she is not going to have it. No jump.”
I replied, “Well, that’s the First Lady. She rules the nest. I guess that means we’re going to pack up our stuff and go home.”
“No, Mike. We want YOU to go up and talk to her.”
As soon as Jean told me that, I immediately thought back to the time the Silver Fox told me that if anything happened to her husband, she would kill me.
So I told her, “Okay, if you think that’s going to help, then I’ll be glad to speak with her.”
“Well, you’re very persuasive. You have jumped with her husband twice and if anybody can do it, you can do it. President Bush 43 went up and spoke with her. I went up and spoke with her and she is not having it.”
So Jean and I headed up the hill to the Big House. As we got close to the top of the hill, we saw the President sitting there talking to one of his aides. When he saw us, he motioned us over: Hey guys! What’s going on?
“Sir, your wife is saying no. She’s not going to allow the jump to happen.”
He sat up in his wheelchair: I thought we had all this worked out.
“Yessir, we thought we had it all worked out, too, but she changed her mind.”
Well, what are we going to do?
Jean told him, “Sir, we want Mike to go up and talk to her. Mike is very persuasive and maybe he can change her mind.”
So there I was, standing with the President, who had been in charge of so many world-changing operations—the end of the Cold War, Desert Storm—and I’m thinking: “He’s going to put his foot down and he’s going to fix this.”
The President looked up at me and asked: So do I have to go up and talk to her as well?
We all got a little chuckle out of that. Jean said I should wait with the President while she let Mrs. Bush know I was coming to talk with her.
Ten minutes rolled by.
Jean walked out and back over to where the President and I were shooting the breeze. To our surprise, Jean told us, “She saw all of you standing out here and talking and told me she doesn’t want to talk to anyone about this. She told me to tell you to take him on his jump, but he better not get hurt.”
Knowing that was directed at me, all I could think was, “Man, if anything at all happens, I’m going to have to face Mrs. Bush!”
As Jean was telling us this, the door to one of the cabins on the property pops open and 43 walks out and over to where we were. He had paint all over himself from painting. He asked what the verdict was from his mom.
Jean Becker replied simply, “She said yes.”
A little surprised, 43 asked, “Was she pissed off?”
Jean said, “No, she was not.”11
43 looked directly at me and proclaimed, “Mike, you’re the man!” And then proceeded to give me a high five and then walked right back to his cabin to continue the paint job.
The last jump wasn’t the best landing, but I remember that smile on President Bush’s face with everyone singing “Happy Birthday” to him for achieving a jump on his ninetieth birthday.
I will never forget President Bush, and I cherish the letters he wrote to me as a friend. At one point, he said:
Between you and I, to say we have a close relationship is an understatement.
It didn’t matter where I was from. It didn’t matter the color of my skin. Because the character of this man was that he saw everyone as equals, and I am grateful that I had the opportunity to share our passion of falling through the sky at 120 miles an hour.
And that, my friends, is something I will never forget.
Bruce Gelb, ambassador and businessman (from 41ON41):
I arrived at Andover in 1941… they did a form of hazing for new boys… This guy says to me, “Okay, I want you to go to my room. I got a big stuffed chair, and I want you to get that chair over to my new room.”… I couldn’t lift the damn thing… “I can’t do it, I’m sorry, I cannot move that chair,” I told him, at which point the guy got me in a hammerlock with my right arm behind my back and started to put pressure on it… I couldn’t move.
Then I heard the words: Leave the kid alone. The guy dropped me like a hot potato, and the next thing I knew I’m standing there and he’s moving his chair back to his dorm room. “Who the heck was that?” I asked. And the answer was, “That was George Bush… he’s just the best guy in school.”
… All I knew was I had a hero that has been a hero for my whole life.
Edward Gillespie, White House staff for President George W. Bush:
During my tenure as counselor to President George W. Bush, I would see the former President in the White House on occasion (more rarely than one might expect). Whenever 41 was there, he would go out of his way to be unobtrusive in any way. He did not want his presence to be a distraction to the staff. But he was never a distraction; he was a joy to be around. The former President liked to swap stories, pick up any good gossip, or hear a new joke (slightly off-color was a bonus).12
In December 2008, President Bush 43 delivered the winter commencement address at Texas A&M. A&M is home to President Bush 41’s library, and the former President and Barbara Bush were there to welcome their son to campus. We were less than a month away from President-elect Obama’s inauguration and the official transfer of power. The outcome of the recent election reflected President Bush 43’s then low standing in the polls, and the country was still in the throes of the financial crisis. It was a difficult time in the White House, and it was uplifting for the president to be back in Texas and to see his beloved parents. And while his approval ratings may have been low in the latest Gallup survey, they were high in Aggieland!
The students loved the commencement speech, interrupting it with the kind of thunderous applause we had not heard in a while. It was a joyful occasion. After the ceremony concluded, 41 rode in “Stagecoach”—the presidential limousine—with the soon-to-be former president to see him off at the helicopter pad. (We had to chopper from College Station over to Air Force One at the Waco airport.) I watched from Marine One as President Bush hugged his father goodbye and turned to climb aboard to settle into his seat across from mine.
I was checking emails on my cell phone as we were lifting off when the president leaned over, tapped me on my knee, and pointed out the window.
“Look at Dad,” he said.
President Bush 41 was standing at full attention, one hand on the hood of the big black car to brace himself as he leaned into the swirling winds being whipped up by Marine One’s furious rotors. Sand and grass were being blown up onto his blue suit and into his wind-whipped hair, and a Secret Service agent was positioned behind him like a quarterback in shotgun formation, arms up ready to catch the former President if he was literally blown over.
“He’s paying respect to the office,” President Bush 43 said as we looked down through the window.
I still get goose bumps remembering that moment as George H. W. Bush displayed not only a father’s unconditional love for a son, but a war hero’s respect for the presidency of the country he loved and served with such great distinction.
Dava Guerin, author:
It was one of those beautiful sunny days in Kennebunkport. The night before was filled with anticipation of meeting the Leader of the Free World. They came from all across the country, as far as Alaska and California, to spend an afternoon at Walker’s Point. Traveling was no easy task for these young men and women. Some were obviously missing arms and legs, and others not as obvious, struggling with debilitating traumatic brain injuries.
Why were they there, you may wonder.
Several months earlier, 41 had offered to come out of retirement from writing forewords to pen a heartfelt message for my first book with my coauthor Kevin Ferris—now one of eight—called Unbreakable Bonds: The Mighty Moms and Wounded Warriors of Walter Reed.13 Not only that, but President Bush suggested that we hold the book launch in Maine. Here is part of what he wrote:
Every commander in chief before and after me would agree that working with our military is the single biggest privilege of being president of the United States. There is no harder decision we face than to put our men and women in harm’s way; and there’s no worse news to receive than someone has been killed or injured.
So ten of our nation’s heroes, many of whom had the most devastating injuries during the War on Terror in Iraq and Afghanistan, and their devoted mothers began the trek up the long driveway to literally meet their hero—not only the former President of the United States, but the youngest Navy pilot shot down in his plane over the Pacific Ocean during World War ll.
At the time, 41 had fallen out of bed and was wearing a neck brace. Before he met the group, I sat with him alone in his office and gave him a short briefing about the people he was about to meet. You should have seen his smile. As broad as Lake Michigan.
One by one, after being cleared by Secret Service, the wounded warriors began wheeling and walking up the driveway, some with their service dogs, expecting to see 41 in front of the house. That would not do. President Bush insisted his aide wheel him down the driveway so he could meet each and every wounded warrior, shake their hand, and give them a presidential coin. It was the least he could do to honor the service and sacrifice of those young men and women who, like 41, cherished service and were willing to fight and die for our freedoms.
And then there was the big surprise: As it turns out, George W. Bush was in town visiting his parents. For most of these wounded warriors, the forty-third president was their commander in chief. They couldn’t believe he and the former First Lady were there as well.
The day was magical for the entire group. One wounded warrior ended up proposing to his girlfriend with 41, 43, and both First Ladies cheering him on.
Another Army specialist said that meeting 41 in person was the singular most meaningful experience in his life. And the mothers could not believe how gracious and self-deprecating President Bush was, not to mention Barbara Bush, whom they were also thrilled to meet.
As if that were not enough, for our second book that Kevin and I wrote, called Vets and Pets: Wounded Warriors and the Animals That Help Them Heal, Barbara Bush offered to write the foreword, and both she and 41 invited us to hold our second book launch at Walker’s Point.
By that time, 41 was not doing well, and it was painful to see his decline from just a few years earlier. Still, he wanted me to brief him, but this time I decided to read him a short letter I wrote letting him know how much he meant to me, and also his impact on the wounded warriors he had met during our last visit. As I held his hand, I could see he was struggling. Still, he insisted on being wheeled down his driveway, this time to meet fifteen wounded warriors, veterans, and the animals that helped them get through the trauma of war and their resulting visible and invisible injuries.
It was a sight to behold. The group surrounded 41, some putting their hands on his shoulders, others holding his hands as they escorted him in near formation and slowly made their way toward the house. It was as if the wounded warriors were now protecting the man who spent his entire life protecting them. They didn’t want to let go.
Despite he and Mrs. Bush being surprised to see a potbellied pig and two wounded screech owls—one of whom had a major accident on 41’s khaki pants—it was obvious to me that 41 was loving every moment. He was with his people. Maybe he was thinking about the men he lost when his plane crashed over the Pacific Ocean? Maybe he was recalling the decision to send young men and women to fight for their country during the Gulf War? Or maybe it was just as simple as this: President George H. W. Bush cared about people. He never put himself first. He remembered the little things and recognized in others their commitment to service. He was a champion of the little guy and those with disabilities who struggle to get through every day.
His impact on the wounded warriors and their mothers will last a lifetime. They’ve all told me that over and over again. What will I always remember? A President of the United States who befriended a thirty-year-old and showed her by example what character, empathy, loyalty, and service embodied. Character matters. And 41 chose to share that gift with countless heroes on the battlefield and the home front.
When he was lying in state in the Rotunda of the Capitol, two of the wounded warriors who met 41, along with me and my husband, had the honor of leading a group of people with disabilities to say their last goodbyes. There were plenty of tears. But they were tears of love and gratitude.
Charles Hermann, first director of the Bush School of Government and Public Service:
Having just celebrated its first twenty-five years, the Bush School already is a recognized leader among its peer institutions.
And no one did more for the school than its namesake. President Bush repeatedly spoke to classes, brought world-renowned figures to the school, pitched horseshoes with students, helped recruit new faculty, and dined with students and faculty.
I worried after he was gone that the school might lose some of its magic, but then I realized we just needed to work a little harder to continue to advocate for and teach two of the values that President Bush held most dear.
The first is easy to talk about because he spoke of it often and with passion: public service. He repeatedly told all of us—especially students—that public service was a noble calling. More powerfully, his life offered a dramatic, continuous illustration. The vast majority of Bush School graduates—in numbers much larger than any of its peers—are in fact pursuing public service careers.
A second essential value is not one he spoke about, but one he demonstrated throughout his life: to work with others holding different political views from his own and encourage them to join him in dialogue and compromise for the public good.
There are many examples of bipartisan cooperation, but perhaps the most dramatic was his friendship with Bill Clinton. Like every other person who has lost a position that they passionately seek, President Bush suffered personal pain and anguish. Yet, after President Clinton finished his term, the two men became friends, working together for good causes, especially raising money for victims of natural disasters.
I am proud that Bush School students strive to embrace these values manifested throughout the remarkable life of our forty-first President. But what about the rest of us? At a moment when the basic fabric of American democracy is imperiled by those unwilling to accept anything but their own unmoderated position, all of us need to emulate George H. W. Bush:
Not to think alike but to walk together.
Jeff Hoffman, member of the Points of Light board of directors and employee of Disney:
As board meetings go, when one is hosted by a former President of the United States, the anticipation is heightened.
The board was Points of Light, of which President Bush was the honorary chair. He had invited the board to meet at his presidential library, with a dinner the night before.
We started with a cocktail reception in his private apartment upstairs. He took us on a tour, and I would later find out that Mrs. Bush was not pleased that we went into his bathroom, as he did not tidy up (she was not with us on this occasion).
For the dinner, I was surprised to be seated next to the President. I’d already had a nice catch-up with him upstairs, so he was ready for a more substantive conversation. The topic he wanted to cover was helping me to grow the Disney VoluntEARS program globally. We already had programs in Paris and Tokyo because of Disney’s parks there, and a solid program in London.
I was particularly focused on China. Disney was changing from a licensing model in both China and India to an operating model. I was working on bringing staff on in those countries and, in addition to our employee volunteer program, was about to start writing a corporate social responsibility plan for both countries.
This is to say that while my board colleagues were enjoying a nice social evening before the next day’s meeting, I was being grilled and coached on what I needed to do to make this happen.
Who knew that the ambassador to the United Nations under President Nixon, the China liaison under President Ford, and of course the Leader of the Free World, would be a “senior adviser” to Jeff Hoffman regarding the expansion of Disney VoluntEARS throughout the world.
He may have lost the presidency, but he never quit being a leader, or caring.
Annie Kennedy, Walker’s Point gardener:
It was an Indian summer kind of day at Walker’s Point in the fall of 2017—the high season for transplanting and cutting down the perennial gardens. My uniform of red-and-white-striped overalls was, as usual, filthy, and my hands even dirtier. By midmorning I happened to be walking up the driveway when I saw the President in his wheelchair coming from the Big House toward the lower end of the property where his office was located. It was always a great privilege to “run into him,” and share a few words or have him join the tune he heard me singing while I worked. (He swears he loved my singing and often joined me.) It was customary to offer an elbow bump because of my dirty gardening hands.
There were very few people on the point this late in the season, and the President looked less Kennebunkport-casual than usual. His golf shirt and khakis were replaced with an ultra-crisp long-sleeved button-down, and he was wearing pleated blue dress pants. For this reason I said, “President Bush, you must be on your way to see someone really important.” Then he said: That would be you, Annie.
The complexion of my day changed to one of awe. Here was the former Leader of the Free World not making a distinction between his gardener and a person who most likely had historical significance. Although I had seen him greet many people, including me, with eye contact and “presence,” this day was different as he verbalized how he sees it. It would have been so easy to wave and blow past the help. George H. W. Bush appears to have inherited that wisdom of presence to others at a young age, and he taught his family to look through this same rare lens. It really takes a form of “unlearning” to encounter people this way. However, if you strip your mind of the existence of power centers of fame, wealth, talent, and intelligence—you will see the garden of human light that he saw.
David McCullough, Pulitzer Prize–winning author and historian (from 41ON41):
I have interviewed or known eight presidents, maybe nine. And what strikes one is how different they are from each other… I once said that if I had to drive from Boston to St. Louis with one of them, that the one I would pick to go with would be George Bush Senior because he’s great company and he’s entertaining and enjoyable to be with.
… I think he was just a natural-born leader. He wasn’t a show-off leader, he wasn’t an exhibitionist, or a stunning performer onstage. I think he was himself.
… I do think his real creed was service to the country, much more than being a political superstar, or getting reelected… he took defeat superbly, which is a real measure of one’s character. He’s really a great man.
Reba McEntire, country music singer and actress:
I’m not sure why we hit it off so well, but the first time I had any correspondence with President Bush was when I went to Washington to do Christmas in Washington.14
I had just arrived at the venue when somebody handed me a message that said “call 41” with a telephone number on the message. I didn’t know who 41 was, so I asked the person who gave me the message and they said, “President Bush.”
I didn’t know what to think. So I called the number, and the President welcomed me to Washington. Wow!
It was the beginning of a wonderful friendship. I’ve been so blessed to go to their homes and have dinners with them and even got to go on a vacation with them. Now, I’m not saying that to brag. I’m saying it because I want you to know how special they were to me. They were so down to earth, funny, and very entertaining. I just couldn’t get enough of them.
One time while President Bush and I were texting, he told me that they were going to the baseball game that night. He told me to be sure and watch when so-and-so got up to bat because he would wave at me. Well, I’m sure he told everybody that, but it sure did make me feel special.
When flying back from the cruise in Greece,15 I went to where he was sitting and, kneeling by his chair, I told him: “I take a lot of vacations, but nobody’s ever invited me on a vacation like this before.” I told him how much I appreciated it. He was really something special.
Singing at his funeral was a gift, a hardship, and one of the greatest things I’ve ever gotten to do. It felt like I got to say goodbye in my own way.
Our friendship taught me that even if you are the leader of the United States of America, you can still have a wonderful sense of humor and a huge, loving, and giving heart.
That’s a good scale to go by.
Drayton McLane, businessman and former owner of the Houston Astros, and his wife, Elizabeth:
We first met President Bush when he was running for the US Senate in 1964, when the Republican Party was just emerging in Texas. He made a stop in Temple for a fund-raiser, and as we remember, there were only about twenty people there. We were greatly impressed with him at that first meeting.
Over the years we had several other opportunities to see him in large groups, as when he was a congressman from Houston, and particularly as Vice President. When he finished his term as President of the United States, he and Barbara moved back home to Houston, and we had the opportunity to renew our friendship. That was really the beginning of our close personal relationship.
Some of our best memories are from visiting them in Kennebunkport. We went every year for four or five days at a time over a fifteen-year span. There were several houses there on the compound, but they were very gracious and had us stay in their house with them. We always had a great time.
One of the most exciting experiences at Kennebunkport was when the President asked us to go out with him on his powerboat. He loved boating and particularly going very fast. Barbara warned Elizabeth not to go out with George because he would scare you to death. It was so important to him that we go for a ride with him that Elizabeth agreed to come along.
One of the Secret Service men on the boat took us aside and said he had to forewarn us: If the boat turned over, they were not there to rescue us; they were there to save the President. We were on our own! We did go fast; very fast. It was a wild ride. He liked to hit the waves sending the boat into the air, then come crashing down. As we returned to the dock, he hardly slowed down. He just sped in, turned the boat sideways, and we were perfectly alongside the dock. We were very thankful to get off the boat. Several other times Drayton went back out with him, but Elizabeth never went for another boat ride with President Bush. She and Barbara would often go to a movie instead. Smart.
Jean Becker, the president’s longtime chief of staff, had an office in a two-story cottage right as you entered the property. We would go down to her office for a visit after breakfast, and we would not have been there fifteen minutes when the President would come strolling in. He would say, “I don’t want to miss any of this.” It would be just the four of us talking on all kinds of subjects. Each time we did that, year after year, he would always show up during our visits with Jean. He enjoyed the atmosphere of her office, and we would sit for an hour or two and just talk.
During the nineteen years we owned the Houston Astros, we gave the Bushes six seats in our Diamond Club level on the first and second rows, just behind home plate. The President loved sports in general, but baseball was his favorite. He could talk baseball all day.
They would attend almost all the home games before they left for Maine. One of the things that really stands out to me was every time the President and Mrs. Bush would walk in and come down to their seats, unannounced, the entire crowd in the stadium, forty thousand people, would stand, applaud, and cheer for them. They would leave generally at the end of the seventh inning. Again, the entire stadium would stand and applaud, without anyone saying anything as they exited. This shows the great respect that Texans had for the President and Barbara.
Every spring he would invite six of the active Astros players to come to his office for a BBQ lunch. He would ask each one of them to tell something about himself. These young men were twenty-two to thirty years of age and would never have found themselves in a setting alone with a President of the United States. They would just be in awe. Every year during Spring Training, players would quietly ask to be on the list for this year’s lunch.
He frequently would bring interesting guests with him to the games. It was always fun to meet not only influential and accomplished people from all over the United States, but great people from all over the world that were visiting him. One time he had with him the lady who was the president of Latvia. The President asked if, during an inning break, we could have her introduced to the crowd. Our public announcer made the perfect introduction, saying we had with us a great head of state, the president of Latvia. The stadium erupted with cheers and applause. When they sat down President Bush leaned over and said to Drayton: I bet not many of them know where Latvia is!
Of course many times he would have his children and grandchildren with him. It was a great pleasure getting to know all of them. You could see the great love the grandchildren had for their grandfather and grandmother. They particularly toed the line when their grandmother spoke!
In our private discussions he would talk about what a great country this is. He was never critical of any sitting president or any former president of the United States. He was always positive about politics.
We spent a lot of time with them, and our lives were enriched by it. We could see the great love they had for each other, for their family, for Texas, and for all of America. They weren’t just good people; they were the best of the best.
Diane Melley, member of the Points of Light board of directors:
President Bush possessed an incredible ability to make ordinary and powerful people immediately feel like his friend. That was true even if you’d never met him, were considerably younger than he was, or had policy differences with him. In all these circumstances, he led by being gracious, welcoming, and respectful.
As a mid-career IBM executive, I introduced him at a Points of Light National Convention in 2004, where he was presenting IBM CEO Sam Palmisano with a National Service Leadership Award. By that time in his life, I was among hundreds of people who had introduced President Bush at events, but he greeted me with sincere warmth and interest. While in the greenroom, he chatted and laughed with me, made the personal connection to me as an Eisenhower Fellow,16 and lightheartedly poked fun at “Sammy” (my boss) and their respective golf games. I was instantly charmed and made more comfortable for my role in the program.
This secret power to put people at ease—to relate on a human level above all else—would play out in many other encounters I witnessed. He was particularly skilled at engaging with young people. I watched as he enthusiastically hosted roundtable discussions with Eisenhower Fellows from around the globe, displaying through attentive listening and pertinent follow-up questions that he valued the perspectives of these young professionals and wanted to learn from future leaders.
He first met my daughter Lindsay when she was just thirteen. He complimented her on the great job she did picking out her outfit and noted that she was the best dressed in the room. She beamed with pride, since she had, indeed, put significant thought into what would be appropriate to wear. It was a small encounter for the President, but it had a lasting impact on my daughter, boosting her confidence thanks to a world leader who likely didn’t realize his quiet compliment would have value well beyond the encounter.
Early in 2013, President and Mrs. Obama hosted President Bush and Points of Light at the White House to recognize the 5,000th Daily Point of Light. The Obamas were gracious and generous, and the connection they had with President Bush was one of respect in living shared values, despite their political differences. Since then, I’ve often mused on the mutual regard that made this civil hospitality possible.
President Bush is deservedly well known for his lifelong accomplishments, but to those he interacted with on an individual basis, it was his genuine care and concern we remember. No matter your title, background, or political views, he made you feel valued. He related to people on a purely human level.
Little wonder, then, that his unique vision of “a thousand points of light spreading like stars throughout the nation” is emblematic of the person he was as President, family member, and friend. By seeing the worth of each person, he enabled everyone to shine brighter and inspired them to share their own warmth as a beacon to others.
Brad Meltzer, author:
I knew this would be my last visit with the President. I had gone to Kennebunkport to honor my friend Barbara Bush, who had died in April, at a literacy event. Before the event, I got the phone call, asking if I was free for some private time with President Bush. The staff had been bringing in authors and friends to read to him all summer.
“I’d be honored,” I replied. My wife and I made our way over to Walker’s Point, eager to see him, but also a bit nervous. President Bush was ninety-four years old. There’s no joy in final goodbyes.
On the way in, they warned us that our visit would most likely be short—he’d probably fall asleep at some point during our stay. My wife made a joke about how I’m used to putting people to sleep. I laughed, pretending this was all normal.
We were playing with his service dog, Sully, as they wheeled him in. To my surprise, President Bush looked great. Alert. Big smile. Happy to see us. He wasn’t talking much, but he’d nod to answer questions. What caught me more off-guard was what was on his desk: three or four books, including one that was dog-eared from being read and clearly reread. It was my new nonfiction book, The First Conspiracy, about a real-life plot to kill George Washington during the Revolutionary War.
The aide told me how much he enjoyed reading it and then left us alone, just me, my wife, Sully, and President Bush. He’d had offices in the CIA, Congress, and, of course, the White House. But here we were, the final stop, in a small office overlooking the ocean with nothing more than a desk, a few keepsakes, and a really nice rocking chair engraved with the presidential seal.
“You want me to read from this?” I asked the President, holding up my book. He nodded, so I read him some of my favorite passages, telling him the story about how George Washington fought back against those plotting against him. President Bush was listening, sometimes sleeping—or at least I thought. But this was the moment that got to me: When I got to the part where, for the very first time, the Declaration of Independence was read aloud to George Washington and his troops. Slowly, I started reading the words out loud: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal…”
Right there, President Bush shot awake. He had been listening the entire time, but now his eyes were wide, soaking up every word, like it was part of his lifeblood. He couldn’t get enough. As I read the Declaration, the tears swelled in my own eyes, as well as my wife’s. For President Bush, it was like a transfusion. At the end of each chapter, I kept asking him if he wanted to hear another chapter. Yes. Yes again. We kept going, moving on to that part of the Revolutionary War where George Washington is pinned down in the Battle of Brooklyn.
It’s a moment where Washington easily could’ve died. He was outgeneraled; our troops outmaneuvered. It would’ve been easy for Washington to beat his chest and go out in a blaze of glory, rushing in while trying to take out as many of the British as he could. Instead, Washington did what he always did best. He adapted.
That night, during a massive downpour, George Washington and his officers devised a secret plan—a daring escape. They arranged for all nearby watercraft to be commandeered and brought across the East River. One by one, regiment by regiment, the soldiers sneaked onto the boats. Most importantly, the troops witnessed something else. George Washington, their leader, made sure that every soldier was evacuated before he himself got on a boat. In other words, the soldiers saw Washington risk his own life to save the lives of his men.
It’s one of my favorite stories about George Washington because it reveals his leadership, his sense of honor, and, most of all, his decency.
One of the great honors of my life was reading about the humility and decency of our first president to the man who then was our oldest living President. Putting the book back on his desk, I said my final goodbyes. President Bush shook my hand and didn’t have to say a word. He’d given me lessons I’ll carry with me forever.
When he died a few months later, there was one word that was mentioned over and over in nearly every tribute: decency.
In truth, it’s because President Bush was a truly decent man. But it’s also because our country is currently starving for decency. Our current political discourse—the way we talk to each other—we’ve lost that sense of decency. It’s time to get it back.
Bernard Milano, member of the Points of Light board of directors:
President Bush was born in 1924; my wife was born in 1956. While having lunch with President Bush as we were planning his eightieth birthday celebration, I mentioned that his birthday is the same as my wife’s birthday. He looked at me and said:
Why would you marry an eighty-year-old woman?
I would love to know if any of our presidents since the beginning of time had a better sense of humor, or a sharper wit.
Johnny Morris, founder and owner of Bass Pro Shops:
I admired and respected my father, John A. Morris, more than anyone I have ever met—my dad was and always will be my true hero in life! But President George H. W. Bush comes in a close second. These two extraordinary individuals were both decorated World War II veterans. Far more important, however, is the fact that they were both men of great moral character.
Thinking back on my treasured friendship with President Bush, I’m reminded of my all-time favorite quote about fishing from Ernest Hemingway. Hemingway wrote: “In a lifetime spent fishing, I’ve come to realize—it’s not the big fish you catch, but the people you meet, the friends that you make along the way that matter the most.”
It fills my heart with joy to remember my very special fishing buddy. What a true honor and blessing in my life, when “along the way” over thirty-five years ago, through our shared love of fishing and passion for conservation, I came to know this remarkably humble, kindhearted gentleman who was always led by his faith and love of his family and country.
I had the privilege to observe him interacting with people from all walks of life, at home with family members, engaging with heads of state, leaders of commerce and conservation.
But mostly he and I spent hours fishing together, and then sitting around a campfire with fellow anglers. There is no better way to really get to know the true character of a person than by spending one-on-one time with them, especially in the solitude of nature.
And not once did I ever see him waver from the three character traits that most defined him: humility, kindness, and passion.
• Humility
President Bush was, to me, the most humble, down-to-earth guy you could ever hope to meet—always putting others first before himself. He would constantly poke fun at himself for his shortcomings, even if they didn’t exist.
• Kindness
President Bush was outwardly kind, thoughtful, and considerate of others. He always made it a priority to take the time to be engaging and to be a respectful listener to those around him. This trait helped make him a great unifier and to make well-informed decisions. He had a big, kind heart and would often go out of his way to personally express heartfelt thanks to everyone from all walks of life for good deeds or gestures.
• Passion
He had incredible passion for life, for loving his family, and for serving his country, and to be sure more than a little passion for his favorite pastimes of golf and… oh, yeah, fishing!
There can be no doubt that President Bush really, really, really loved to fish!
Like Theodore Roosevelt and James Audubon before him, it was through his love of the great outdoors and time spent fishing on rivers, lakes, streams, and the open sea that President Bush gained firsthand appreciation for the need for conservation and the stewardship of fish and wildlife and other precious natural resources.
President Bush was incredibly modest, and in my view, that is why he has not been more celebrated as one of the most extraordinary conservationists ever.
I would like to fix that oversight right now.
It makes me proud to join all fellow sportsmen and sportswomen and conservationists in remembering, thanking, and saluting President Bush for everything he has done to uphold our hunting and fishing traditions as well as for his work to restore and enhance wildlife and fisheries.
During his administration, President Bush was responsible for signing into law some of the most important legislation ever drafted to conserve our nation’s abundant fish and wildlife, healthy landscapes, clean air, and rich soil.
Under his leadership and direction, the United States established an astonishing fifty-six new national wildlife refuges—more than any other president in our nation’s history, including President Theodore Roosevelt.
He protected 17.8 million acres of public lands, including national parks, wildlife areas, and refuges.
He signed into law the expanded Clean Air Act in 1990, requiring cleaner burning fuels.
He also signed into law the North American Wetlands Conservation Act. This act has helped fund wetlands conservation projects (many in conjunction with Ducks Unlimited) on almost twenty-seven million acres in all fifty states, Canada, and Mexico. He personally spearheaded the first national policy goal of “no net loss of wetlands.”
While serving as Vice President, he played a critical and essential role in assuring the passage of the 1984 amendments to the Sport Fish Restoration Act—an action second only to the original act’s passage in 1950. Then, as President, he came to the act’s rescue in 1991, making sure that the Office of Management and Budget did not divert any of the trust fund’s monies from their intended purpose of supporting sport fisheries conservation and habitat restoration—ensuring recreational fishing’s future.
President Bush relied upon all of his moral principles to become a well-informed and respected leader. His unselfish character helped unify people to make a profound positive impact on the natural world for generations to come.
Jim Nantz, CBS sportscaster:
The first time we paid a visit to Walker’s Point was in the summer of 1994. The President took us on his boat down the coast for a casual ride and, on the spur of the moment, he docked his beloved Fidelity III in Ogunquit, Maine, for a midday treat. It was an unusually hot day and 41 wanted to visit his favorite ice cream parlor.
He wasn’t the only one who had that idea. There was a long wait with the line dozens-deep. Everyone was yelling for him to move to the front of the line. But he just smiled, almost bashfully, and waved off their offer. President Bush graciously accommodated every request for autographs and photos. In his eyes, everyone was equal. There was no hierarchy of fame, power, or money. Cutting to the head of the line—or “pulling rank”—was discourteous and inconsiderate behavior. He would never be a party to that.
A few years later I was invited by the Bush family to a small reception in New York City. One of the guests was legendary jazz musician Lionel Hampton. When 41 walked into the room, Hampton was the first person he saw. Immediately the President knelt on one knee so that he could speak to the ailing, wheelchair-bound musician at eye level. The former President could have simply leaned over, as other guests of similar height did, but this instinctive gesture of dignity and respect was a perfect snapshot of the way George Herbert Walker Bush treated everyone he encountered. I brought up his remarkable act of kindness later that night over dinner. He said, “Jimmy, no one should ever be left to feel inferior by spending their entire time looking up toward everyone else. Treat all people equally and with respect. And talk to them at eye level.”
Roxann Neumann, businesswoman and political activist:
The first time I met George H. W. Bush was also the first time he taught me a life lesson: The importance of taking time to show kindness when you see someone is being treated unfairly.
It was August 1984. He was Vice President of the United States. I was a twenty-five-year-old staffer working for the Republican Party of Texas. The Republican National Convention was being held in Dallas, and I was responsible for the distribution of all the very sought-after guest passes for the Texas delegation. It was impossible to have enough.
I was standing at the distribution table, relieved that I no longer had any left. They had all been given out. That good-feeling moment was fleeting. As I was gathering my stuff to close down, the future congressman Tom DeLay17 stepped up to the table and asked for two guest passes. I politely informed him that all guest passes had been distributed. I quickly looked at my list to make sure his allocation had been picked up, and they had, by a staff member. He said he needed two additional passes and asked if I knew who he was. I said I did and was very sorry, but I had no more guest passes. He then asked me my name, asked who I worked for, and proceeded to let me know that my days in that position were likely coming to an end. He then walked off.
As I think back on it—I can still remember that sick feeling I felt at that moment. It appeared my being involved in anything political was over.
Then out of nowhere someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to see Vice President Bush, who shook my hand, introduced himself, and told me things were going to be fine. After a brief chat, he said to me as he walked off:
Just remember he puts his pants on one leg at a time just like everyone else.
Michelle Nunn, president and CEO of CARE USA:
My first meeting with President Bush was at the Bayou Club in Houston for what I guess was a job interview to be head of Points of Light, which was about to merge with my organization, Hands On. It is highly intimidating to be interviewed for any job, much less to be interviewed by a former President. And in this case, as a lifelong Democrat, perhaps even more so.
He immediately put me at ease, and I knew that the typical interview expectation of singing my own praises was not required. He told me the now famous story of his mother admonishing him not to brag when he recounted his own soccer goals, asking him, “And how did the team do, George?”
I have never been with a more powerful person who emanated such deep humility. It was more than a personal virtue. It was a worldview that embraced transcendent purpose and the spiritual wisdom of our own relative smallness in the universe.
We all know of President Bush’s courage as a nineteen-year-old flying combat missions, but I came to know the quiet courage of his last years when his body was failing him. Yet, he squeezed out life’s gifts each and every day. (I confess that I love that he always ordered dessert with lunch.)
Even though his life was characterized by a vibrant athleticism, he defied the fear of appearing enfeebled, first walking with help, then a cane, and eventually, without hesitation, a wheelchair. He jumped out of airplanes to demonstrate the capacity for adventure even for those turning eighty, eighty-five, and finally ninety. Even when he struggled to walk unassisted, he would take out his speedboat and drive so fast that it would make your eyes water. (My children found it thrilling, while I confess to finding it a bit scary.) He demonstrated for all of us the capacity to live with joy and energy, even as our physical capacities fail us.
Over the years of knowing him, I experienced so many stories of his acts of empathy: standing up to a bully in his teenage years; bringing a Jewish friend to break the restrictions at a local country club; writing a letter to a distant friend in a time of need. There are literally thousands of acts of kindness that people around the world remember of President George H. W. Bush.
I well remember celebrating the anniversary of Points of Light with President Bush, hosted by President Obama in the White House. Hundreds of members of President Bush’s family and friends joined together, including members of his administration. His former press secretary, Marlin Fitzwater, marveled that thirty years later one of the President’s enduring and fundamental legacies would be Points of Light. With all of the legislative and diplomatic and military dimensions of his presidency, the more ethereal but deeply meaningful vision of a kinder and gentler nation had stood the test of time.
I believe President Bush’s great light and wisdom was knowing that it is ultimately not power, wealth, or glory that defines a life well lived, but how we treat and lift up those around us.
We have no finer example. His life was, perhaps and after all, his greatest legacy.
Nancy Pelosi, former Speaker of the House:
On October 17, 1989, the San Francisco Bay Area was shaken to its core by the most severe earthquake in generations. When the shaking stopped, we sadly mourned the more than sixty lives lost and more than 3,700 injured, while tens of thousands more families were left in despair, their lives upended by unimaginable destruction.
The Loma Prieta earthquake wrought a dark and difficult moment for the Bay Area. Yet in our hour of need, we found a champion in President George H. W. Bush.
Within days of the quake, the President boarded Air Force One for San Francisco. It was my privilege to brief him and join him in surveying the damage, touring the rubble from the hills to the highways and hearing from experts about the impact on our infrastructure. That included seeing the devastating collapse of the Bay Bridge, where most of the fatalities occurred.
When he returned to the White House, he followed through on his commitment to our recovery, ensuring that the Bay Area swiftly received the $3.45 billion in emergency assistance that I had worked with my colleagues in the Congress to secure.
It is important to remember that, at that time, “San Francisco Democrat” was among the nastiest epithets in the Republican Party. Our city was a constant target of attacks by those who disavowed our cherished values of compassion, liberty, equality, and justice for all.
Yet, President Bush had no hesitation in standing by our side. With his courage and graciousness, he defied heavy pressure from those within his own party who wanted to see San Francisco suffer—and those who have long opposed federal disaster relief. Strengthened by President Bush’s commitment to our cause, our area was able to rise from the rubble stronger and more united than ever before.
Personally, it was my privilege to share a beautiful friendship with President Bush and his dear wife, Barbara. Their love and devotion to each other were a joy to behold.
God truly blessed America with the grace and goodness of President George H. W. Bush.
Arnold Palmer, golf legend (from 41ON41):
I have said that you could learn more about a person in an eighteen-hole round of golf than if you spent many hours with them in an office. You learn the character of a person on the golf course… George Bush [is] honesty, integrity, and all the things that make you a good person that you would trust with your life.
Richard Perry, President Bush’s Maine physician:
It was time for President Bush’s appointment. The two SUVs arrived at noon sharp, and a member of his Secret Service detail opened the door. As usual, he was warmly greeted by two members of our nursing staff, and he enjoyed their attention.
I entered the exam room and, as I had done many times over the years, greeted the former President and asked how things were going, how he was feeling. In typical fashion, and despite his deteriorating health, George H. W. Bush replied:
I’m fine. Go tend to the other patients who need you more than me.
That was his way. It was the perfect example of who author Christopher Buckley later called “the most beautifully souled man,” whose focus was on others rather than the “GREAT I AM.”
June Scobee Rodgers, widow of Challenger space shuttle commander Richard Scobee:
First as Vice President and then as President of the United States, President Bush showed compassion for the families of the crew of the Challenger space shuttle, visiting with us the day of the 1986 accident and for years thereafter.
Having announced in 1985 that a teacher, Christa McAuliffe, would fly in space—becoming the first civilian to do so—he was familiar with the STS-51L crew led by my husband, Commander Dick Scobee. His words of sincere concern and counsel that day and many days afterward gave us the strength to meet the constant calls for interviews and information while struggling to overcome our own very public grief.
To help the families and Space City Houston overcome our loss, the other Challenger family members joined with me to create a space simulation experience as a tribute to the lost Teacher in Space Mission and for the students who were still waiting for their lessons from space.
Vice President Bush congratulated us for our idea and offered to help. When we stumbled in our outreach for financial support, he supported our efforts not only by writing letters on our behalf, but also by writing his own personal check. He taught us the importance of hard work, to roll up our sleeves, and boldly ask for support for a great cause.
After a few months working in our tiny Houston office, the Vice President suggested to me that we grow our organization nationally because the entire country was grieving the loss of Challenger. He encouraged us to move our office to Washington, DC, where we could gain additional support for our efforts. When I asked for advice on how I could involve national leaders, he suggested that we ask CEOs, university presidents, and a senator.
That was a scary proposition because I didn’t know any people personally who represented his suggestions. My experience was that of a teacher. I told him we would be intimidated to work with such distinguished people. He then taught the teacher, saying:
June, how do you work with a classroom full of students? Don’t you prepare them to meet the objectives of the class? Encourage them, then test them to learn of their success?
When I nodded, he said:
You’ll do the same thing as a chairman of a board of directors. You provide the vision and an overview of goals, then challenge them to accomplish various objectives. After that we’ll be able to evaluate the efforts of the board for success and accomplishments.
With each new Challenger Learning Center created—even when he was the President—he would continue to congratulate our efforts. His support was not only in words but also in deeds.
I would suggest that the same qualities of character he used to guide us at the Challenger Center were also qualities among many others that he valued in his leadership as President. Yes, he was a great leader in my estimation, but he was also a person with a big heart, great wisdom, and tremendous experience that he shared, and humbly taught us how to establish an organization that is the living legacy of the seven Challenger astronauts.
I’ll forever be grateful to him for showing me the way.
David Rubenstein, cofounder and cochairman of the Carlyle Group:
President Bush was traveling with my Carlyle partners and me in Italy. Two of my partners were very committed Catholics. They really wanted to see if President Bush could arrange a meeting with the pope the next day, the same day we were leaving Rome. I asked President Bush, and he said he thought he could do it. And sure enough, the next day we had a private session with Pope John Paul II.
In the meeting, President Bush introduced my partners and me this way:
Your Holiness, this is Bill Conway, a committed Catholic. This is Dan D’Aniello, a committed Catholic. This is Kathy Super,18 a committed Catholic. And this is David Rubenstein.
The pope looked up, recognizing that my name might not put me in the committed Catholic category. He looked surprised that I was there but was very pleasant despite my not being a committed Catholic. I was, of course, pleased to be blessed despite the religious difference. You never know when a papal blessing can come in handy.
I don’t think I realized what a huge favor I had asked of President Bush to arrange this meeting. It wasn’t until later that I learned how hard it is to arrange a private meeting with the pope, much less on short notice.
More importantly, I learned that President Bush would move mountains to help friends achieve a goal of theirs.
Ron Sherr was one of America’s most respected and sought-after portrait artists. His portrait of President Bush that hangs in the National Portrait Gallery in Washington, DC, was 41’s favorite. After a brief illness, Ron died in December 2022. His widow, Lois, and his son, Alexander, worked together to retell one of Ron’s favorite stories, when he was commissioned to paint the President of the United States, and the President’s father, No. 41. It begins with his harrowing journey and entry into Camp David. They tell the story in Ron’s voice:
I left at 5:30 a.m. because I had no idea how long it would take. I had directions, but Camp David is literally unmarked. It doesn’t say “Camp David” with big arrows pointing to it! I remember passing a guardhouse at the bottom of a big hill; the guy there checks my clearance and says go to the top and drive in.
At the top of the hill, I am met by a giant fence that you’d expect at Area 51 or somewhere like that. A sign reads “DANGER: BEYOND THIS POINT, TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT” or something like that. Quite a warning, right? There’s nothing else around, literally nothing else there.
If I turn in, I risk being shot. I’m thinking, “I’m not doing this, no way, I am not doing this.” So I drove all the way back down. I said to the guy at the bottom, “There’s no place to go up there—it says you’ll be shot if you go in!” He says, “No, no, no, that’s it. You just have to go past that point. They’re expecting you. Don’t worry. Go ahead.”
So back up I go and this time, the gate opens. I drive another stretch, and there’s another gate, and then another gate. So finally, I get to a gate where there are actually some people. They’re expecting me. That’s where they start to do this huge security check, with mirrors under the car, the whole thing.
After the security check is done, and after a flurry of phone calls to confirm that two George Bushes really are expecting me, I am finally waved through and shown to the room where I am to meet with President Bush and President Bush.
After hearing they were going to breakfast and then to church I knew it was going to be a while, but I did not expect them to walk in at 11:30—three hours after I had arrived! The dad says, Okay, we’re ready. So, off we go to find a place for them to pose; we finally settle on a spot. I get my camera gear out, get set up, and I can see George W. is already getting a little fidgety. Then I start taking pictures, and he’s really getting fidgety. He’s looking at his watch; he’s looking around. I’m saying to them, “Mr. President, can you look over here? Sir, can you look over, uh, can you look that way?” They both look in the same direction. Meanwhile, George W. is getting more and more fidgety, and he starts making some noise about how long it’s taking. So, I look at him and I say, “Sir, I’m not a photographer. I’m a portrait painter. This is going to take me a little while.” I remind him I only have an hour sitting with them. George W. simmers down when he hears that and he’s like, “Okay, okay, so how can we help?” So, I go back to it. “Sir, look over here.” Both heads swivel. What am I going to do? “Mr. President, can you turn just a little bit that way?” Both heads end up going in exactly the same direction. They can see I’m getting frustrated.
So finally, the dad says: Ron, just call us 41 and 43.
I say to him, “Sir, I can’t do that, sir. You know, you were the President and your son’s the current president. I can’t do that.” So, I go back to “Sir, look over here.” Boom, both heads, same direction. So this keeps going on for a little while. Finally, Bush Sr. pipes up again:
Come on, Ron, you’ve got to call us 41 and 43.
Then I look at my watch and realize I have only twenty minutes left! “Okay, 41, please look over there; 43, you look that way.” And sure enough, they listened to me like obedient puppies.
When we finished the sitting, 41 wanted me to come over to their cabin, his and Barbara’s cabin. He said, Come on, come on, jump in the golf cart, let’s go over. Barbara wants to say hello. I was dumbfounded. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. As we’re driving over, 41 got to talking about the president:
I’m just kind of nervous. I have to watch out for him.
He was very protective. This was three months after 9/11. He was talking to me as if I was a friend. A close friend. I didn’t even know what to say. I kept trying to support him and say, oh, you know, he’s doing a great job, and thinking up other things to say as I went along. All I could think was what a bizarre situation that he was the former President of the United States. His son is the President of the United States now. And he’s talking to me like this. The thought that kept crossing my mind was, “What the heck did I do to deserve to be here?”
I learned a lot from this surreal experience on a mountaintop with two Presidents:
• Sometimes you just have to go with the flow and savor such wonderful moments.
• A true leader may ask you to do things that are out of your comfort zone but are key to the bigger picture.
• Sometimes you have to be strong, no matter who you are with, if it helps accomplish the goal.
R. C. Slocum, former head football coach for Texas A&M University:
I was privileged to do many fun things with President Bush. We came from different upbringings, which we discussed on many occasions. I was from a working-class family in southeast Texas where shipyard and refinery work were the norm. The President was from an affluent, educated family back east. To him, that was never a big deal. We both loved sports and people. We both loved Aggie football. We were a perfect match.
One of my favorite things about 41 was that he never, ever put himself above anyone. Here is one of my favorite examples:
President Bush invited me to play golf with him at Pine Valley Golf Club, which is in New Jersey just outside of Philadelphia. The course is consistently ranked as the top golf club in America, and he was excited to take me there. We arrived around noon and played the par three course that afternoon.
We stayed in a cottage on-site and had dinner at the club. We were joined at dinner by two of the President’s friends, Tom Kelley and Spike Heminway. The next morning, we all gathered for breakfast. Shortly after we were seated, an older African American lady came to our table and said that she would be serving our breakfast. The President immediately turned to her and engaged her with:
Good morning, how are you today?
She had appeared somewhat nervous approaching our table to take the President’s and his guests’ orders. He immediately dispelled whatever anxiety she might have had. He asked her about her family and how they were doing. He made her feel special. Later, while our breakfast was being prepared, he asked someone if they would mind getting a couple of his golf balls from our cart, which was parked outside. When the lady came back to check on us, he asked if her husband or son would maybe like an autographed ball from the President. She immediately said that she had a grandson who loved golf and would really like one of the balls. The balls had the presidential seal on them, and the President added his autograph. By this time, the lady was beaming.
He had taken just a little of his time to make this nice lady feel like she was important to him. I thought to myself at that time, “This is so characteristic of how he treats people.” Everyone was important to him regardless of background, status, or, for that matter, political party.
Michael W. Smith, singer, composer, and actor:
I first met the Bushes in 1989 at the annual televised Christmas in Washington event. I was pinching myself. There they sat—the President and First Lady of the United States of America—on the front row while I sang “Gloria” with an amazing high school choir. What a dream come true! And apparently my long mullet hair and stubbly beard didn’t faze them.
After the show, my wife, Debbie, and I and the other performers were whisked away to the White House with a surprise invitation. Their warmth and kindness put us all at ease immediately. They even took us into their private quarters, showing us some of their treasured drawings by the grandkids. It was a little surreal to stand by the basket of toys in the President’s den and talk about his recent meeting with Russian president Gorbachev. I probably pinched myself again.
The evening wrapped up in the East Room with President Bush’s requested sing-along around the piano. I was the only piano player, so I played as we sang a few Christmas carols. Not a bad gig. And thus began a friendship that lasted almost three decades.
The Bushes graciously invited my wife and me to be a part of the last White House Christmas brunch in 1992. We had already witnessed the way the staff—from the maids to chefs to secretaries—seemed to genuinely love the First Couple. As the staff lined the walls of the East Room at the end of the brunch, many had tears running down their faces. The President knew their names and cared about them, and they were going to miss him.
And then there was the day in 2000 when I called him for help. The teen club I had started in my town of Franklin, Tennessee, to help troubled kids had lost its lease. The location we found in nearby Nashville, while a great deal, needed extensive renovation to build an indoor skate park, a music venue, and spaces for tutoring. He willingly agreed when I asked him to become my honorary campaign chairman. He played a significant role in the nearly $5 million we raised that led to the innovative faith-based safe environment that has blessed thousands of kids.
But perhaps this story summarizes the character of President Bush 41 best.
While at one of my Christmas concerts in Houston in the early 2000s, he and Barbara raised their hands when the Compassion International child sponsorship packets were held up for those willing to take them. They sponsored a child living in poverty that evening. Little did that child know that the letters that came on a regular basis from his sponsor (always with a picture of the dog, not the owner) was from the former President of the United States—and at that time, the father of the current one. Years later, after that young man had grown out of the program, he found out that the former Leader of the Free World had been his sponsor.
These random acts of kindness over the years have certainly left a mark on us. And Debbie and I are better for it.
Nancy Sosa, Kennebunkport friend:
President Bush taught me to find fun in little things. We held an annual friends and family picnic in Kennebunkport that he named the BS Picnic, using the first initials of our last names. He knew there was nothing giggle-worthy about an SB Picnic. He assembled a BS Picnic planning committee and scheduled meetings for 1:58, 2:13, or 4:33 because he insisted those were perfectly good times that no one ever uses. He always had a sparkle in his eyes when we entered his office on the dot for those unusual meeting times.
He also taught me to always look forward, never look back. It didn’t matter that a vacation came to an end or the summer was over, President Bush always looked forward to the next event. When I remember this advice, I am never sad. There’s always something good ahead.
Richard Sterban, member of the Oak Ridge Boys:
One of the favorite things the Oaks got to do almost every summer was for us and our wives to spend time with the Bushes in Kennebunkport. President Bush especially loved if we were touring in the New England area, and we would show up on our very large tour bus, rolling through town and through the gate at Walker’s Point.
Every summer we had this running game with him: Who was going to pay for lunch if we went out?
He, of course, wanted to pay.
We, of course, wanted to pay.
Finally, we figured out how to outsmart him.
I kept a bicycle on the bus, so what I would do is get the Oaks’ credit card, ask President Bush where we were going for lunch, and as long as we weren’t going by boat, I would get on my bike and make sure I beat the motorcade.
And the first thing I would do is prepay the bill.
He would pretend to be mad, but I think he loved it. He loved the game.
And, yes, it was expected that while we were there, we would sing a song or two. We spent many wonderful nights singing in their living room, standing in front of the fireplace, singing just for the family and some of their closest friends.
But one year President Bush had an idea: The Bushes had heard from some of his staff and a few others in town that there were a lot of new residents in Kennebunkport, and they were not being welcomed with open arms.
“Their ancestors didn’t come off the Mayflower,” someone explained to us.
So the Bushes invited all the newcomers to a cocktail party at Walker’s Point, and invited just enough of the “oldcomers,” so they could see that George and Barbara Bush had the welcome mat out. And it just so happened we were in town.
So we did a mini concert out on the driveway, with a sound system President Bush managed to find somewhere. Oh what a night.
Not too long before he passed away, he let it be known he wanted us to sing at his funeral. We of course told him, “You can count on us.”
The night before his funeral in Houston, we were booked to do a Christmas show in Spokane, Washington. The minute the show was over, we headed to the airport, got on a plane donated by a friend, and flew all night, landing in Houston just in time to get to a hotel to freshen up and get to the church.
The Bush family could not thank us enough for making the effort to do this for their father and grandfather. We sang, “Amazing Grace,” which was very emotional, but we got through it.
Then back to the airport we went, getting on the same plane and returning to the state of Washington, as we had a show that night in Kennewick.
We would have never canceled a show. President Bush would not have approved. He taught all of us to always do the right thing.
And from Richard’s wife, Donna:
One thing that pops in my mind is the day a Coast Guard cutter was off Walker’s Point repairing buoys. We were all in Fidelity, and 41 wanted to go by and say hi “to the guys.” Someone on the cutter must have recognized the boat because as we got close we heard a whistle blow, and then as we came alongside, the entire crew was standing at attention.
President Bush yelled hello and thanked them for their service. Then he turned to us and said:
They didn’t have to do all that, I just wanted to say hi.
This has stuck with me for years. His absolute humbleness.
Carolyn Stettner, former CIA officer and widow of another:
My deceased husband, Jim Pavitt, had a business colleague with whom we had become good friends. This gentleman and his wife had a wonderful young son, Brendan, who was enamored of Jim and his work with the CIA.
Brendan was doubly challenged in his life by having Down syndrome and also struggling with cancer from a young age. He wanted to be a spy when he grew up, and we showered him with appropriate tradecraft “gear” and books to study.
Brendan fought his cancer through many rounds of chemotherapy and several bone marrow transplants. During one of these times when he was hospitalized, Jim wrote to 41 telling him about this brave young patriot who wanted to become a spy and like Jim had once done, run the CIA’s Clandestine Service. As we knew he would, the President wrote the most loving, kind, and encouraging note to Brendan, which was promptly framed and sat on the nightstand by his hospital bed, to be shown to every person who entered his room.
Young Brendan eventually succumbed to his cancer, but he never lost heart and never stopped believing he would be a spy. After all, his heroes were my husband and our forty-first President.
Joe Straus III, former Speaker of the Texas House of Representatives:
In early April 2023, I spent a few days as a Cameron Fellow at Texas A&M University’s Bush School of Government and Public Service. Before my visit, I read over some of President Bush’s most famous remarks and writings. Even as someone whose family has known the Bushes for decades and has long admired the forty-first President, I was struck by the graciousness of the tone he set for the country—a warmth that he was unafraid to show, because his strength as a leader spoke for itself.
He knew that grace was not a sign of weakness.
Standing on what he called the “front porch of democracy” to give his inaugural address on January 20, 1989, President Bush said:
I take as my guide the hope of a saint: In crucial things, unity; in important things, diversity; in all things, generosity.
In a present era when partisanship has risen and tribalism has spread, there is great impact in those three basic ideas: unity, diversity, and generosity.
Too often, the way to get ahead in politics is by appealing to someone’s worst instincts rather than their better angels. We have been conditioned to think that the path to power is through dividing and conquering. In contrast, President Bush built bipartisan coalitions around lasting achievements, from the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act to Operation Desert Storm.
When it comes to the issues that really matter, you need people with different experiences and perspectives working together. No party has a monopoly on good ideas—or bad ones.
I can think of no better remedy to the tribalism in our politics today than the words President Bush spoke and the approach he embodied. He knew how to tap into our common goodness rather than trying to exploit our differences.
Every day, people go to extraordinary lengths to extend a hand of help or compassion, whether in their vocation or their spare time. Why should our politics be so different? I understand—and certainly President Bush understood—that there are going to be differences, and that politics is a contact sport. Every campaign has a winner and a loser.
But we can be competitive without being caustic. The principles that President Bush promoted in his inaugural address and in so much of his life in and out of office are bigger than any one political party or ideology. Decency and goodness transcend any construct of conservative versus liberal or red versus blue.
The students I met at the Bush School seemed eager to embrace this approach. They were proud to be learning at a place named for such a gracious leader.
I believe the President would be proud of them as well.
Sally Struthers, actress:
My cell phone was ringing. This was August 23, 2018, a Thursday morning; a two-performance day at Ogunquit Playhouse. Sheesh! I am an actor! Who is calling me at this hour?! Don’t they know I work nights?!
When I looked at my phone, I saw that it was none other than my friend Jean Becker, President Bush’s chief of staff. She was calling to see if I could drive up the road to Kennebunkport for a private visit with 41. When I explained my two-performance day, we decided the next day would be better.
I arrived at Walker’s Point midmorning on Friday, August 24, the last day he and I would spend time together.
I entered the room grinning. President Bush was grinning too. He asked me what musical I was in down at the playhouse. He and Barbara attended so many of the productions I did there over the years, and they always came backstage at intermission, coming all the way down the narrow hallway to my dressing room for a little visit. And then, remarkably, they would segue to the main stage and take photos with the entire cast. This is unique to the Bush family. The thoughtfulness of knowing how exciting it would be for the actors to have a photo of themselves with the President and First Lady.
When I told my buddy that we were doing the premiere of the new musical Grumpy Old Men, he lit up. I sang a couple of songs from the show, humorous with some ribald lyrics. His laughter filled the office.
His new dog, Sully, sat at his feet. Being an unabashed admirer of all things canine, I was thrilled to meet this darling young yellow Lab. Not wanting to take up too much of his day, I stood up and started my goodbyes. Seemingly out of nowhere, Jean asked if I would like a photo with the President. I happily have many photos with the Bushes, either backstage or at their home. But this would be my first (and last) with just the President. As Jean took the photo, I leaned in close to give this great man a squeeze.
Three months later the nation said goodbye. It dawned on me this is why Jean Becker called me that Thursday morning. How fortunate was I to have that quiet moment in time with him, sitting in his wheelchair; the ocean breeze cooling his simple office this August morning.
A new pup by his side. A great joker with his hundreds of pairs of colorful and sometimes bizarre socks. An optimist. A war hero. My friend.
A man always finding joy in life.
Tom Tiernan, Army marketing specialist:
The night before President Reagan’s funeral and a few days before President Bush’s eightieth birthday celebration, he hosted a dinner for the Golden Knights team who traveled to College Station to support one of his parachute jumps at his library.
He and my team were among the last to get in line for the buffet. After he got his food, we figured an aide had saved him a place to sit. We went on to find a place to sit. The only table available was at the end of the hallway. As we took our seats, we looked up to see President Bush headed our way, a plate of food in hand. He insisted on taking the worst seat at the table.
He was the most gracious host for a group of soldiers and Army civilian employees. He insisted that we, his table companions, were taken care of before himself. He asked each of us about our life stories. And he made sure we all got a dish of his favorite Blue Bell ice cream.
Mark Updegrove, president and CEO of the LBJ Foundation:
Never let your ambition exceed your grace. Don’t crow when you win, nor cower when you lose. Share credit. Always think of others. Let people know you care.
Those are some of the lessons in character I learned from President Bush’s towering example, among the many things I took from our friendship for which I will always be deeply grateful. But here’s what I’ll remember most about George Herbert Walker Bush: He was just so fun to be around. Barbara too. They were utterly delightful, never taking themselves too seriously, always ready to laugh.
There were the times when 41 tried to circumvent the strict dietary instructions of his wife, “the Enforcer,” who kept a close watch on his intake of salt, sugar, and alcohol. Her insistence that he restrict the amount of bread and butter he consumed resulted in a small bucket of biscuits that he had secretly ordered being surreptitiously placed by the server at the leg of his chair. Or at another dinner when he asked for half of a vodka martini after drinking down a first one that had been generously poured to the rim. “What self-respecting waiter is going to give a former President half a martini?” I asked him, and we both laughed. Sure enough, when the drink arrived the half was a whole. (Meanwhile, I had somewhat self-consciously ordered a Cosmopolitan, distinctly pink and, well, a little girly. Shirley Temple? he asked with mock disdain when it arrived.)
Then there was the time when Barbara, who shared my wife Amy’s love for jigsaw puzzling, told us that she often got to the very end of a puzzle only to discover that the last piece was missing. The mystery was solved when she realized that her husband was secretly pocketing them just to keep things interesting.
And then there was the time 41 recounted to Jean Becker and me a 1970 meeting he had with Lyndon Johnson at the LBJ Ranch, where he sought the ex-President’s counsel on whether to give up a safe seat in the House of Representatives for a chancy run at the Senate.
“George, the difference between the House and the Senate is the difference between chicken shit and chicken salad,” LBJ colorfully advised. Bush recalled the extensive tour of the ranch LBJ gave him that included a visit to his closet—a sea of slacks, Bush observed—as LBJ barked to houseguest Jake Pickle, Bush’s fellow member of Congress, “Get George a drink!”
As icing on the cake, there was often something thoughtful that came from 41 after our visits, characteristic small gestures that had outsized impact: an invitation to bring our children to his office for a family visit with him and Barbara; a surprise letter of recommendation after I told him offhandedly that I was pursuing a promising job change; one of his trademark handwritten notes.
The last time Amy and I saw 41 was in the final months of his life. Ailing but ever gracious, he invited us to a mid-summer lunch at Walker’s Point so that I could read him portions of my recently published book, The Last Republicans: Inside the Extraordinary Relationship Between George H. W. Bush and George W. Bush. I chose the penultimate chapter in which I offer my take on his legacy, or “the L-word” as 41 always called it. As the sun-dappled Atlantic Ocean churned off the shore and waves crashed into the craggy Maine coastline beneath us, I read aloud to him on the back patio of the house:
“Time would be a friend to George H. W. Bush. Two decades after leaving office, Bush would begin to be recognized for his sheer competence as President during a seminal time, credited for his incisive foreign-policy mind, diplomatic facility, and steady, prudent hand as commander-in-chief… Moreover, in a barbed, self-aggrandizing age when passion all too often overcame reason, America came to value 41’s character… In the unexpected warmth of his winter years, the public servant who called for a ‘kinder, gentler’ nation got a little of it back.”
When I finished the chapter, 41’s eyes were closed. We thought he might have drifted off to sleep. Then, after what seemed a long pause, he deadpanned:
That’s a lot about me.
Tyson Voelkel, president of the Texas A&M Foundation:
Our friendship began while I was a graduate student in the Bush School’s international affairs program and ended with me as one of the military members of his funeral planning team. It was an honor yet a knee-shaking responsibility.
The world was better with President George Herbert Walker Bush in it. Now more than ever I am reminded of the impact he and Mrs. Bush had on our country and on my family. Our paths intersected in unique ways, and President Bush always provided humor, perspective, and authenticity with each engagement.
His life was lived in a way that encouraged, inspired, and influenced millions. Humility and authenticity oozed from his personality, and all who he embraced felt the warmth of his smile and the genuineness of his heart anytime we were around him. Most evident was his desire to help others, to lift others up, and to share in joy and pain.
Here are two key lessons I learned from him. Each has shaped me and helped me understand that I can be more.
1. We say what we mean and mean what we say. Our word is our bond. We may not be the smartest person in the room, but most of the time we should be the hardest working. We have an edge, a hunger, a desire to do more, to be more, to serve more. That’s what should drive those in public service.
2. How we live our lives and how we choose to be a light to others is our choice. We should choose to be a light in someone else’s life when we can.
I once asked him what his life lessons were from public service. His answer: civility, compromise, and courage.
President Bush insisted on the idea that elected officials must fight for their constituents but also must remember to be civil and not vilify their opponents. He said we can’t go into our corners and just talk to the people that are like us.
He went on to discuss the need for compromise in government, the need to often “meet in the middle” on difficult topics, as he believed democracy demanded incremental changes more often than sea changes.
Lastly, he talked about courage. To do the right thing for America, even if it meant losing an election or looking like a “flip-flopper” when it came to decisions.
Civility. Compromise. Courage. Interesting lessons from a man who spent his life in service of others.
Our meetings would always start with the President asking about my wife, Christi, and about our family. The conversations would then turn to leadership, life, and service.
When our daughter Lily passed away, our family was gathered in the kitchen and getting ready to head to her visitation. It was tense. We were shells of our normal selves. The phone rang, and I reluctantly picked up the phone and was told “hold for the President.”
It was President Bush.
He and Barbara wanted us to know they were sorry for our loss; that we would always have a hole in our hearts, as they did when they lost their daughter Robin. He encouraged us to fill that hole by doing for others whenever we could; that service mattered and that he was proud of us.
That call was like a spark for us, a catalyst. He lifted us up when we needed it the most. He did it by humbling himself, by being vulnerable, and by challenging us to do for others rather than feel sorry for ourselves.
We left for the visitation with a different perspective. We viewed Lily’s passing as an opportunity to share her light.
So when the inevitable day arrived for their funerals—first Mrs. Bush and just a few months later President Bush—their deaths took on special significance for us.
For a few days, the world watched as we laid to rest President Bush. It was a unifying moment for our country.
Most poignant for me that week, after years of planning, was the sight of the Union Pacific train 4141 inching down the tracks. That final horn sounding; the rain; the thousands of people lining the tracks for miles to pay respects; and then seeing the flag-draped casket masterfully carried by the honor guard.
As the train came into College Station, and as I stood in the drizzling rain, my mind replayed his life story, and rather than sadness my emotions turned to gratitude. I realized in that moment, even in his final wishes for his funeral, he wanted to thank America and to embrace every citizen, all symbolized by the role of the train, the flag-draped casket, the students and A&M Cadets, and the active-duty military honor guards. It was his final “do what’s right” moment. Even in death, he was more concerned about others than himself, and in doing so remind us that we can all “be more.”
I will always try to “be more,” Mr. President.
Andy von Eschenbach, former head of the Food and Drug Administration:
Humility is one of the most admired, treasured, and perhaps most elusive of character traits in a person of great accomplishments and abilities.
Two stories portray the richness of this character in President Bush.
There was a problem with the swimming pool at Walker’s Point that could not be resolved with the pumps removing the water. The water had to be siphoned out. The former President readily joined in by crawling on the pool deck to make it happen. Not usual decorum for the former Leader of the Free World.
When he and Mrs. Bush became the founders and chairs of the National Dialogue on Cancer,19 President Bush insisted on sharing that role with a leading Democrat. When the invitation was declined by President and Mrs. Carter, the President was sufficiently humble “to go hat in hand” to extend the invitation on behalf of the dialogue to Senator Dianne Feinstein. She said yes.
No arrogance or pride in this man but only the greatness of humility.
Wait, did I mention he insisted on standing in line at the checkout in stores?!
Armin Weinberg, member of C-Change board of directors:
Of all the lessons and experiences I shared with President Bush, the one I chose to write about is the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA).
I recall sharing with President Bush my father’s vision that when he designed a medical office building in Solon, Ohio, in the early ’60s, he was concerned that his patients (my dad was an ophthalmologist) in wheelchairs would not be able to have access to the two levels of the new office building. So he had a concrete ramp built. What a concept! Obviously, I was tickled that I could proudly share with President Bush that this preceded the ADA. However, his signing ADA into law made accommodations like this infinitely more meaningful to millions not only here but throughout the world who learned from our attention to those with disabilities. (My dad couldn’t believe that I actually shared the ramp story with the former President!)
I did a fair bit of traveling to professional meetings in my career, not to mention many wonderful vacations with family and friends. Thus, airplanes and airports have been and will always be a part of my life.
Did you ever feel a great sense of anticipation as your plane taxied to the gate and then relief as you exited the airplane and headed to the nearest restroom? Well, each time I do I thank #41. Why? This is where the ADA comes in! Prior to the ADA I would typically encounter a row of urinals installed by people who were probably Texans and at least six foot six. Since I was five foot five, this put most urinals at my eye level. However, after the ADA there is at least one in the row set lower to accommodate those in wheelchairs and—probably unbeknownst to the policy folks—people like me who are short! An unintended but greatly appreciated benefit.
My dad used to say, “My mind knows what I want to do but my body is no longer able to do it!” Both men used all their remaining strength and commitment to do as much as they could, adapting to the limits of their bodies that now more than ever reflected their amazing spirit and desire to help others. Thanks to the ADA, they really could still stay engaged and active albeit at a level appropriately adjusted for their respective conditions until their passing.
President Bush, through his welcoming my voice representing minority and underserved communities into the National Dialogue on Cancer (later called C-Change), allowed my role as a leader of the Intercultural Cancer Council to extend opportunities to speak openly and honestly with business, government, and nonprofit leaders and help them realize that none of their well-intentioned goals and objectives to address cancer’s toll would ever be achieved if we didn’t include the voice of the minority and underserved communities and address and remove the barriers that stood in their way.
I’ll forever be grateful to President Bush for that opportunity and for teaching all of us the importance of inclusivity.
But honestly, I will also remember his leadership every time I access a public restroom! After all, height does matter.
Mark Welsh, dean of the Bush School of Government and Public Service:
The Bush School produces public servants who leave here determined to reflect the personal ethics and professional competence of our namesake.
I don’t believe George H. W. Bush ever formally committed to a life of service. Helping others came as naturally to him as breathing; it was just part of who he was. I don’t think he was capable of passing anyone, anywhere, without trying to connect with them in some way—not as a politician, but as a person. He was so eminently qualified to sit in the Oval Office, but the foundation of that success was that he was first and foremost a good human being and a man of honor. Any assessment of his life should start there.
Bush School graduates head out into the world confident they are ready to serve their fellow citizens. They carry with them a truly remarkable sense of pride. They know they carry the legacy of our forty-first President with them, and they treasure it, just as he treasured them. These students, already making a difference in our world, are proving to be his greatest legacy. They are putting the life lessons they learned from him to work for all of us.
Daisy White, consultant to the George & Barbara Bush Foundation:
On December 12, 2012, Texas A&M staged a celebration ceremony on campus for our football quarterback Johnny Manziel, the recent winner of the Heisman Trophy. There was to be a reception afterward where, we were told, Johnny would sign autographs.
As a true fan, I bought seven footballs for him to sign—five for our grandchildren; one for my husband, John, and me; and one for President Bush. The President had been admitted to Houston Methodist Hospital for upper respiratory issues. Knowing how much he enjoyed all sports—particularly A&M football—I thought an autographed football would be therapeutic.
Because the crowd and speeches were so enthusiastic, the celebration went too long. Sadly, we were told Johnny could not sign any autographs. I was not to be deterred, so I managed to get a few private minutes with him, explaining that the only autograph I really wanted was for President Bush. Johnny said: “I heard he was in the hospital. I hope he is doing better.” Then he said with sincere humility: “He would really want a football signed by me?” I explained that President Bush was a huge fan and would truly appreciate the autographed football. The ONLY autograph Johnny gave that day was: “To President Bush 41, I hope you feel better, #2 Johnny Manziel.”
Driving back to Houston from College Station, I called Jean Becker to tell her we would drop off an autographed football at the office. She encouraged us to go see him at the hospital and deliver the football ourselves.
So off we went the next morning and were happy to see him reading the paper and drinking coffee and looking much improved. I said, “Mr. President, we don’t have flowers or food, we have something starting with an F that we believe you will enjoy more—a football signed by Johnny Manziel.” His response:
Johnny would sign a football for me?
The reaction was as humble and sincere as Johnny’s question to us.
Up very early the next morning putting up Christmas decorations, I was watching news anchor Greta Van Susteren on national news. She announced: “President George H. W. Bush is feeling better this morning. One of the reasons he is feeling better is that he received an autographed football from Heisman Trophy winner Johnny Manziel,” then showed a picture of the autographed football! I’m not sure how she found out, but I could not have been more thrilled.
A P.S. to this story: When Daisy sent me this story, I wasn’t sure Johnny Manziel belonged in this book, as he always seemed to be embroiled in controversy. So I asked former Aggie football coach R. C. Slocum what he thought: “When he was inducted into the A&M Athletic Hall of Fame, a very contrite Johnny gave a great acceptance speech, apologizing to the fans for some of his life choices and thanking them for their support. He got a standing ovation. He deserves to be in this book.”
What would President Bush say? I’m proud of you, Johnny.
Blake Winchell, a friend from the Bohemian Grove:20
In 2015 I shot and directed a show about President Bush entitled 41. Jim Baker was the host. President Bush and I went out to lunch after our morning video session, and he looked up at me with a Cheshire cat grin and asked:
Wanna have a cocktail? Which was followed immediately by: But you can’t tell Barbara.
That moment taught me that, despite age and infirmity, you should relish all of the small moments in life.
I will end this chapter with how Prime Minister Brian Mulroney ended his eulogy of President Bush at his state funeral at the National Cathedral in Washington, quoting an Irish proverb:
There are wooden ships,
There are sailing ships,
There are ships that sail the sea,
But the best ships are friendships
And may they always be.
1 The Bush grandchildren called their grandfather Gampy and their grandmother Ganny.
2 Roger Clemens was the star pitcher for the Boston Red Sox at that time.
3 James Chaney, Andrew Goodman, and Michael Schwerner were killed by the Ku Klux Klan in June 1964, which became known as the Mississippi Burning Murders.
4 Robert A. Mosbacher Sr. served as President Bush’s secretary of commerce after helping him get elected in 1988.
5 The former governor of Texas, he was wounded while riding with JFK in Dallas when the president was assassinated.
6 Joe is another Oak Ridge Boy and Donna is the wife of Oak’s Richard Sterban.
7 He was President Bush’s ambassador to Spain.
8 The Golden Knights is the Army’s demonstration and competition parachute team.
9 Chuck is now a senior director of technology.
10 I do know why he didn’t tell the Secret Service. He knew they would feel obligated to report the planned jump to their boss at Secret Service headquarters, who likely would tell the President of the United States, George W. Bush. 41 felt his son had enough to worry about so didn’t need to know his dad was jumping again. Tony Dill remembers that President Bush told the Golden Knights that during his career, even with the CIA and through his presidency, no one was ever able to keep a secret until this event and he was truly impressed and grateful.
11 Actually, I lied. I didn’t think they could handle the truth. She was mad. But Mrs. Bush gave in because she knew this jump was important to her husband, and that he had a talent for getting his way anyway. With or without her support, this jump would happen, and she knew it. But she told me emphatically she did not want to talk to any of “them” about it.
12 Whenever President Bush was visiting his son, my email would light up like a Christmas tree as various White House staffers would report that the forty-first President was making the rounds. They loved it.
13 Published in 2014 by Skyhorse.
14 Christmas in Washington was a holiday variety show attended each year by official Washington, airing from 1982 until 2014, first on NBC and then on TNT.
15 The Bushes were frequent visitors to Greece. Not long after he left office, President Bush accepted an invitation from Greek businessman John Latsis to use his yacht, the Alexander (and later, the Turama), for a cruise around the Aegean Sea. President Bush’s first instinct was to say no, but when he realized he was no longer a public servant and could say yes, he did so with gratitude and excitement.
16 Eisenhower Fellowships is a mid-career leadership program that President Bush chaired for several years.
17 In 1984, DeLay was a Texas state representative and was elected to Congress that November. A leader in the conservative movement, he eventually would serve as both House majority whip and House majority leader. He resigned from Congress in 2006 amid allegations of violating federal election laws. His conviction in 2011 was eventually overturned.
18 Kathy Super was one of his schedulers.
19 Eventually called C-Change, the organization was designed to bring together for the first time under one tent doctors, scientists, heads of nonprofits, governors, and other leaders to work together on cancer.
20 The elite summer camp in Northern California owned by the Bohemian Club of San Francisco.