This is in the town of Grasmere, one of the many that we visited on our first day's tour and one of the places that Andrew and I chose to revisit on our own. Thus, some of the posts in this series were captured on the tour and others several days later when we returned. A very small, quaint little place that, it turns out, has a bit of history.
Speaking of history, woke up this morning with the news that President Bush - "Bush 41", as they say - has died, aged 94. Surely a great man and dedicated public servant, but even more than his presidency I respected him for two things: his role as vice president under Ronald Reagan, arguably the greatest president to serve in my lifetime, and for the great family that he raised.
I, like all Americans, had learned about his love for wife and family. Of course I've never really interacted with any of them, though I do live in Houston, but his son Neil gave a talk to a small group of us one time about three years ago. It was at the Houston Christian High School, with which the Bush family is heavily involved. Chenjean and I did some volunteer work out of there one summer by hosting two Chinese students for an extended weekend. At the conclusion of their time with us there was a gathering of all of us - maybe 20 or 25 host families - at the school, which included a meal and "graduation" ceremony of sorts. Neil Bush spent the entire time as part of the group, eating with us and then serving as keynote speaker at the ceremony. He was introduced as a businessman and, being a Bush, represented the family as benefactors of the school and exchange program. Of course we were all eager to hear about his experiences as both son and brother to U.S. presidents.
I never got the nerve to approach him to introduce myself and Chenjean, but am very sensitive to a person's vibe, and generally a good judge of character, and felt the man's positivity and dedication to service any time he got near. Then when he spoke it really came out...an energy and drive that was sincere and not at all dependent on his incredible pedigree. He did tell some stories, mostly about his dad, that you wouldn't hear anywhere else, which was interesting. But what struck me most was when a picture of George Sr flashed up on the screen behind him: the president had very recently cracked a neck bone at their summer place in Maine, and gave the thumbs up for the press when he recovered well enough to be wheeled out of the hospital. When his son Neil turned and looked at the picture behind him something happened that took us all by surprise. His voice cracked, his lip started to quiver, and he could not speak for a full ten seconds. Tears began to well up in his eyes, and he glanced apologetically at us as he gathered the composure that would allow him to continue with his talk. During that time you could have heard a pin drop, and from that moment I did not see the son of a president, or the brother of a president, or even a prominent businessman, but a man who loved his father very much and was beyond words with thankfulness that he was still with us. I am tearing up now just writing about it.
He did manage to finish the talk, and stayed to interact with the exchange students, the host families, and anyone that wanted a picture. As it so happens, we left at just about the same time, Neil Bush walking by himself about 20 feet in front of us, cheerfully whistling a tune on his way out. As he drove past us in the parking lot, with the passenger side window open to let out the summertime heat, I gave him a thumbs up and said "Thank you!". To my surprise he heard me, gave a thumbs-up back and loudly replied, "No, thank you!" As I watched him pull onto the feeder road of Beltway 8 and go his way, I thought about how those other drivers have no idea who is driving in their midst. But I did. I knew that their roadway neighbor is a son who loves his papa very, very much.
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