Member-only story
George H.W. Bush
In 1992, I watched Marine One land in the field behind Bayview Elementary. Fourteen years later I watched President and Mrs. Bush give my undergraduate commencement address on the National Mall.
Of the dozens of world-shaping events in which he participated — from the Philippine Sea to the College World Series, from the United Nations to the People’s Republic of China, from Rice University to the White House — those hardly rank as more than footnotes. But twelve years later, as I search American history for meaning — the whys and the hows of the whos and the whats — those memories are a reminder to me that history isn’t found in books, even the footnotes, but in the actions of everyday life.
It’s a vanity to believe HW remembered blowing the tarp off of Bayview’s back facade, but it’s also a comfort to know that people like him embody the forward motion that has always defined this society. For good or for bad, and no doubt many cold, timid souls will be quick to critique the man’s stumbles and shortcomings, HW Bush kept moving forward. He stood against history, dove through it, bent it around his will, and then did it again, and again.
Historians now will set themselves to the task of deconstructing the man, of tearing apart the humanity in the search for truth. I don’t know what was in his heart or why he kept pushing the future, whether he was genuine or cynical, benevolent or power-mad. All I do know is that his footnotes are my memories.
The new breeze blows, a page turns, the story unfolds. And remember: no new taxes.
