119: “READ MY LIPS – I MADE HISTORY WITH BUSH 41”

Tom’s alarm went off at 6:00am on Thursday July 25, 2019 and he hurriedly got ready for the day. Vicki, on the other hand, had planned on a relaxing day with her family. I was excited – it was only going to be the two of us making the trip to College Station, Texas. Without my photographer’s wife joining our fun, we could take as much time as we wanted during our visit to the George H.W. Bush Presidential Library and Museum. Tom’s goal was to leave the farm before seven o’clock because he wanted to arrive at the museum when it opened at nine; my camera guy figured it would take two hours to make the 112-mile trek. Although we made it out of the farm door on time, we ran into heavier-than-expected traffic enroute to College Station; which caused us to arrive at Bush 41’s Library on the campus of Texas A&M University twenty minutes late. After Tom carried me into the museum and purchased our entry ticket, he noticed a large group had just arrived; which was disappointing because my photographer didn’t want to fight to see the artifacts that were on display. In my mind, I was convinced there wouldn’t be much to see inside anyway. We had visited George W’s Library in 2016 and it was a huge disappointment. As a matter of fact, or opinion, only Clinton’s museum was worse. I thought to myself: “Like father, like son – the Presidential Library acorn likely didn’t fall far from the tree.”

As the huge group of tourists made their way into the exhibit area, Tom carried me back outside where we headed for the President’s gravesite that was located somewhere behind the library. From an opening in the camera case, I watched as my photographer searched for the burial ground; which he thought would be close to the Presidential Pond. But after we made a complete lap around the large catch-and-release fish pond, Tom saw a stone entryway that appeared to lead over a bridge and into a wooded area. On the right-hand section of the gateway was a bronze plaque that read: ‘The Gravesite is open during Museum hours’. After a short walk through the woods, which gave us relief from the hot morning Sun, we arrived at a beautifully manicured clearing where I got my first glimpse of the enclosed family burial ground.

It was a euphoric feeling when Tom plucked me from the camera case and held me through the bars of the iron fence for our first of many photos of President Bush’s grave. In my resin-filled mind and heart, I knew I was the first, and likely only, bobble head to visit all 39 Presidential gravesites; and quite frankly, I was proud of that accomplishment. I had to admit, the journey has been a labor of love – it took six years and 15 days for my photographer and me to complete our mission; one that began on July 10, 2013 at the grave of Rutherford B. Hayes.

As Tom held me aloft with the granite marker and white marble cross that identified the President’s final resting place in the background, I wanted to borrow a line from Neil Armstrong: “That’s one small step for Jefferson; one giant leap for bobble heads.” When George H.W. Bush died on November 30, 2018, he was the longest-lived U.S. President in history. A week after his death, he was interred at his Presidential Library alongside his daughter Robin (who died at the age of three in 1953) and wife Barbara; who had passed away only seven months earlier.

I had a definite bounce in my head as we made the half-mile walk back to the Presidential Library. At one point during our hike, Tom stopped at a statue that both of us thought looked pretty cool. It was called ‘The Day the Wall Came Down’ and it featured four mares and a stallion that were portrayed leaping over a two-ton section of the Berlin Wall. Once we reached the entrance to the Library, I knew that my photographer was happy to get into the air conditioning; even though he figured it would be a short stay due to lack of authentic artifacts. But once again, my overweight camera guy was wrong. Sit back and take a look at the Presidential items of interest that I had the honor to pose with. If a single picture is worth a thousand words; then the following images are worth “a thousand points of light”.

My photographer and I seem to have a lot in common, except for the fact that I’m better looking.  The biggest commonality that we share is the fact that both of us hate to admit when we’re wrong; but on that day, both of us had to swallow some pride.  When Tom was carrying me out of the George H.W. Bush Presidential Library, he crossed paths with the same woman who had greeted us upon our arrival.  After she asked his opinion of the Library, I heard my photographer speak with a mouthful of his own foot: “To be honest, I was blown away by this Presidential Library.  Going in, I expected it to be like George W’s – which I had mentioned to you earlier was one of the worst Libraries that I have visited.  To gain my approval, I need to see authentic artifacts that the President had used, touched, worn, or sat on; and this museum had it all.  I would rate it the third best behind the Library’s of Reagan and Nixon.” The woman simply smiled and said in her Texan accent: “I was confidant that you would like it.”

During the two-hour ride back to Paradise Farm where Tom’s wife hung out with her family, I stood inside the camera case and thought about George H.W. Bush.  The 41^st President seemed like an honest man who served our country admirably; not only in World War II, but in the White House as well. Unfortunately for Bush, six words described his Presidency: “Read my lips; no new taxes.” I knew my photographer had a special place in his heart for George 41 and his wife Barbara; mostly because Bush was the first of only two sitting Presidents that Tom had seen in person. When my camera guy attended a Bush campaign ‘Whistle Stop’ rally in Wixom, Michigan on September 27, 1992, it was 21 years before he met me. At that time, I wasn’t even a wet glob of molten resin stuffed into a jar in China.

The last hours of our final full day at the farm were coming to a close. After dinner, my photographer and his wife sat on the back patio where they relaxed with Sally and the Johnson’s. My companions knew it would be their last time to kick back as they had nearly 1,400 miles in front of them and only four days to get home. At one point, near dusk, Tom grabbed his camera and headed for a distant field where he thought he saw a small herd of deer. Since our arrival two days earlier, Bill and Kim talked about their daily sightings of the deer; my photographer finally nabbed some images of them.

After Tom placed me on the nightstand one final time, I stood in the darkness and thought about the last three days at the farm. While my photographer and I enjoyed our tours of the LBJ Ranch and the Bush Library, it was the time we had with Bill, Kim and Sally; as well as Tom’s cousin Margaret Ann a few days earlier; that made our stay in the Lone Star State special. If there was one thing I learned on the farm, besides not to touch Lyla, was there’s nothing stronger than family; even if separated by a thousand miles. George H.W. Bush cherished his family as well; one son even followed in his father’s footsteps all the way to the White House where they joined the Adams’ as the only father-son Presidents in U.S. history. Our third trip to the state was coming to a close and I was saddened to leave the farm and family behind. So much so, in fact, that at one point in the middle of the night I thought I felt a water droplet roll down my painted cheek where it came to rest near my mouth. With glistening eyes, I took a page from George Bush’s book that best described what was in my heart: “Read my lips; I love Texas.”