Spoken from the Heart

by Laura Bush

  The love of the Bush family had come full circle; the pride George had felt for his parents, they felt in return for their son. They too had made this journey we were about to begin and had found unexpected joys in the years beyond.

  As the helicopter rose over the Capitol, George took my hand. We looked at the city below and out into the vibrant blue January sky, toward home.

  Prairie Chapel Mornings

  George and me, Crawford, Texas, 2009.

  (Photo (c) David Woo)

  Late that January afternoon in 2009, we stopped in Midland, where George spoke to a cheering crowd. We had left from Midland to travel to the White House; it was fitting that it be our destination on the journey home. Thirty thousand people were waiting for us on the downtown square. George thanked them for welcoming us. "I am grateful that you all came out," he said, "and I am thankful that I had the honor of being president of the U.S. for eight years," noting that we all offer Barack Obama "our prayers for his success." As the afternoon faded, he said, "The days have been long, but the years are short," adding, "This guy who went to Sam Houston Elementary spent the night in Buckingham Palace.

  "The presidency," George said, "was a joyous experience, but nothing compares with Texas at sunset." He paused briefly, then spoke. "It is good to be home." From there our plane carried us to Waco, where four thousand more of our cheering friends lined the edges of the runway.

  On that plane ride home to Texas were many of the staffers who had served with us--Josh Bolten, Andy Card, Karl Rove, Karen Hughes, Andi Ball, and Anita McBride--and also our lifelong friends. From Waco we headed to our ranch with a few of our closest friends. We reached our land, Prairie Chapel Ranch, in the dark. Barbara was with us; Jenna had to return to Baltimore, Maryland, to teach the next morning. George parked his mountain bikes in the garage, and we unloaded the luggage. I was struck by the stillness. There were no staff members, no briefers, no military aides. The grounds were quiet, except for the rustle of the Texas winter wind, the murmur of our own voices, and the soft shuffle of our feet on the crushed stone.

  The next morning we were up, as we always are, before dawn, and for the first time in eight years, George made the coffee himself before he brought it into our bedroom.

  Outside, as the day broke, our land was the color of dull wheat, and the prairie grasses were dry and brown, waving in the wind. The sky, when the sun rose behind the clouds, was a leaden gray, wrapping snug above us and beautiful in its repose. We could drive out and see cattle grazing in our pastures, hear the water rushing down in the canyons. We saw where we wanted to plant blackberry vines and where the bluebonnets would begin blooming in the spring. We gazed upon the spot where Jenna and Henry were married; each morning from our kitchen table I can see the warm glow of the limestone cross where they exchanged their vows.

  There are still physical reminders at Prairie Chapel Ranch of our eight years in the White House: Secret Service watch huts remain scattered around the edges of our house, and a giant treetop enclosure, a place where sharpshooters once paced, scanning the perimeter for trouble, stands draped in vines. Someday it might make a wonderful fort for a grandson or granddaughter.

  And there are other reminders. We live behind gates now; our Dallas house has one at the end of its curving block. Until the gate was installed, carloads of the curious would wind down our dead-end street, running their tires over our neighbors' lawns, to get a glimpse of our new home. Bar and Gampy faced the same problem when they returned to Houston, and the Texas legislature passed a special law allowing gates to be installed on the residential streets of former presidents. George and I are the second-generation beneficiaries.

  At home our pace of life has hardly slowed; after the White House, requests and invitations continue unabated. There are many days when, just as during the presidency, nearly every minute is accounted for. We live by the block schedule, a 6:00 a.m. flight to Florida or Pennsylvania, and then on to Minnesota or Indiana. I am asked to give speeches and to serve on charitable advisory boards, like that of the Salvation Army or of the Smithsonian's new National Museum of African American History and Culture; George speaks, works on building his presidential library and institute, and has joined with Bill Clinton to coordinate a national relief effort for earthquake-ravaged Haiti. There is much meaning and purpose to be found in a postpresidential life.

  I am aware, though, that a completely normal life remains just out of reach. At the airport with my mother, well-wishers ask for pictures, and I stop to smile underneath the dangling Hertz Car Rental sign. In restaurants, in passenger terminals, amid the shelves of a bookstore, strangers approach me like long-lost friends, or rotate their heads to offer up smiles, second glances, or polite stares. At times I wonder when this curiosity will fade, when the novelty of our lives will diminish, and George and I will occupy more of the background.

  I wonder too about the passions that seem to be so permanently entrenched in all sides of American politics, where elected officials become near instantaneous celebrities, and crowds are expected to swoon as teenagers once did for the Beatles almost half a century ago. Celebrity is a particularly poor model for politics. At the White House, there is no off-season hiatus or a director to yell, "Cut, that's a wrap." The demands of not just the nation but of the world are fierce and unrelenting. I am certain that all presidents have moments when they simply ask God, "Please do not let anything happen today."

  We have lived through four seasons now on our ranchland, a spring bloom of wildflower carpets and flowering prickly pear; the baking heat of summer, when the air shimmers and even the cicada whine slows to accommodate the stifling air; a fall of crisp mornings and brilliant colors; and a winter when at night we can hear the howls of the coyotes and the rush of biting prairie winds. Four seasons. Hardly enough time to reflect on eight years, let alone a lifetime. When I was born, there was a blacksmith shop on one of Midland's main streets; today, our news is disseminated via blogs.

  But each morning, when I watch the sun lift itself over our eastern hill, cutting through the tree line and illuminating the gentle prairie grasses and the two young shade trees that our White House staff gave to us, I am reminded of the joy to be found in the day that is coming. George will soon open his presidential library at Southern Methodist University in Dallas. The George W. Bush Institute is already functioning, and as part of that, I am pursuing many of the causes that were especially dear to me in the White House. I am eager to continue to advocate for women's rights and women's health. Through a special women's initiative, I have begun working on new ways to help the women of Afghanistan and the Middle East and to promote education and literacy for the millions to whom alphabets are a mystery and basic addition a complex puzzle. And through the institute, we will help to promote basic human freedoms for these women and their families.

  But as much as I treasure my public life, I also treasure the quiet of my private one.

  Sometime during that first spring and summer back in Texas, I began to feel the buoyancy of my own newfound freedom. After nearly eight years of hypervigilance, of watching for the next danger or tragedy that might be coming, I could at last exhale; I could simply be. When I raise my eyes to the sky, it is to see the drift of the clouds, the brightness of the blue, or the moon and the ever-shifting arrangement of the stars.

  "Look up, Laura," I can still hear my mother say, with a hint of awe and wonder, and I do.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Before the first sentence of this book was written, my family was there. I am deeply blessed to have the love of my husband, George, and my daughters, Barbara and Jenna, and Jenna's husband, Henry Hager. They enrich my life beyond words. And I am grateful for their thoughts, suggestions, and encouragement throughout this process. Most of all, I am grateful for their presence and comfort, for the affection that we share, and for the gift of being able to share my life with them.

  My mother lovingly reached into the depths of her memory for stories of the past, and on th
e Bush side, I have a wonderful, sprawling family to call my own. To my friends, thank you for your steadfast role in my life, for all that we have shared, and for the journey we have taken together.

  I was a bit wary about embarking on a book, a memoir in particular, but I am immensely fortunate in having the very best guides. I am especially grateful to Lyric Winik, who helped me put my story into words. Lyric is a talented and beautiful writer who worked tirelessly, logging thousands of airline miles and many hours away from her patient husband, Jay, and their two boys, Nathaniel and B.C. I cherished our conversations about everything from growing up in Midland to life at the White House, and I will miss working with her. She is a dear friend.

  My thanks to Bob Barnett of Williams & Connolly, whose judgment and advice are without peer. He is a terrific advocate. At Scribner, I could not have asked for a better team than Publisher Susan Moldow and Editor in Chief Nan Graham. Both of these talented women share my deep love of language, literature, and storytelling. From beginning to end, they have masterfully nurtured this book, and it has been a pleasure to work with them and the rest of the Scribner team, including Paul Whitlatch, Rex Bonomelli, Brian Belfiglio, and Rosalind Lippel.

  Emily Kropp Michel has been outstanding and invaluable as a researcher, locating documents and other materials that were essential to writing this book and fact-checking. She did it all with consummate professionalism and good cheer.

  Peter Rough was helpful with checking and coordinating specific materials from the White House years. My thanks to the archivists at the George W. Bush Presidential Library, led by Alan Lowe, particularly Tally Fugate, who located well over one thousand documents, and Jodie Steck, who searched through vast databases of photos. I especially wish to thank William G. Allman, the White House curator, who shared his rich knowledge of White House history and artifacts with me during my tenure as first lady.

  A significant portion of this book centers on the White House, and there I was deeply appreciative of Lynne and Dick Cheney, who have served our nation with devotion and are valued friends. I was fortunate to have two terrific chiefs of staff. Andi Ball came with me from the Texas governor's office to the White House, where she remained for the first four years. She was with me for the events of 9-11 and the challenging days that followed, and her warmth and good humor were a welcome presence in the East Wing. I treasure her friendship. Anita McBride, who served for my last four years, was instrumental in so many accomplishments. She embraced the toughest challenges and destinations--Afghanistan, Africa, and the Burmese border--and I am grateful for her service, counsel, and special friendship. I am indebted to my wonderful personal assistants in the White House, Lindsey Knutson and Sarah Garrison, for being at my side every minute on the road and at home.

  Andy Card and Josh Bolten, chiefs of staff to George, are two of the finest individuals we have known. I have benefited greatly from the wise counsel of Karen Hughes, Karl Rove, and Harriet Miers.

  I want to thank the members of my staff who worked long hours in the East Wing, particularly Anne Heiligenstein and Sonya Medina, who were instrumental in developing the policy behind my initiatives and worked closely with the West Wing on many of our efforts. Ably assisting them over the years were Maria Miller Lohmeyer, Kristin Mende, Page Austin, and many others to whom I am grateful. Good writers and my longtime friends, Joan Doty and Sarah McIntosh, served as the staff elders guiding many of the young aides and wrote charming documents and letters, including penning hundreds of hilarious replies from Barney and Miss Beazley. Year after year, my skilled press secretaries smilingly braved the media whirlwind. I'd like to thank Sally McDonough, Susan Whitson, Gordon Johndroe, and Noelia Rodriguez. My hardworking speechwriters helped ensure that I always said the right thing: Nikki McArthur, Meghan Clyne, Ed Walsh, Elizabeth Straub, and Charlene Fern. On my staff, I'd also like to thank the dedicated Melanie Jackson, January Zell, Quincy Crawford, Deanna Ballard, and the other young people who worked in the East Wing, who served both the White House and their country. I had many great people, including many volunteers, who worked for me as advance people, traveling the country and the world to scout sites and prepare for visits, and I appreciate their days of hard work. I'm appreciative too of the White House photographers--especially Susan Sterner, Moreen Ishikawa Watson, Joyce Boghosian, and Shealah Craighead--who expertly captured our eight years through their lenses.

  At the White House, we had three elegant and outstanding social secretaries, Cathy Fenton, Lea Berman, and Amy Zantzinger, who, with their very able staffs, planned fabulous events and paid attention to every detail, from working with the West Wing, Secret Service, and the Military Office to standing near us for every hour of receiving lines. They were responsible for many treasured and memorable events and evenings throughout George's presidency.

  I'd also like to thank the directors of the White House Visitors Office, Clare Pritchett, Sara Armstrong, and Amy Allman, who along with their staffs coordinated the Easter Egg Roll, managed every tour and the Christmas open houses, and worked with all 535 congressional staffs to arrange constituent tours. And I spent many great hours with five terrific young men, Israel Hernandez, Logan Walters, Blake Gottesman, Jared Weinstein, and David Sherzer, George's personal aides, who traveled with us and have become like family.

  In the White House residence, I wish to thank the many wonderful people who took care of George and me every single day, the ushers, led by Gary Walters, who served four presidents and devoted a large part of his life to the White House, lovingly caring for the home and the families who reside there. We also thank current chief usher Rear Admiral Stephen Rochon, Dennis Freemyer, Daniel Shanks, Claire Faulkner, Worthington White, and Nancy Mitchell. We recall fondly Dale Haney, who cared for the beautiful gardens and expertly looked after Spot, Barney, and Miss Beazley. Thanks to the great White House butlers and our dear friends William Carter, James Ramsey, Von Everett, Ronald Guy, George Hannie, Cesar Rodas, and the late Smile Saint-Aubin. We were also appreciative of the great valets, Sam Sutton, Fidel Medina, and Robert Favela, for their kind and constant service to the president and our family. We had an excellent White House physician, Dr. Richard Tubb, and caring doctors and nurses. My thanks also to Tom Driggers of the White House Communications Agency, particularly for his generous assistance during our yearly hiking forays. I appreciate the hard work of the calligraphers, especially Debra Brown. Thanks to the doormen, who we saw first in the morning and last in the evening, Vincent Contee, Wilson Jerman, Jay Warren, and the late Harold Hancock, and the housekeeping staff, including Mary Arnold, Silvia da Silva, Ivanez da Silva, Annie Brown, and Steven Gates. The floral shop, led by the remarkable Nancy Clarke, and also Robert Scanlan and Keith Fulgham, made a beautiful home more beautiful. We had a talented kitchen staff, led by the lovely chef Cristeta Comerford, and assisted by Tommy Kurpradit, and in pastry, the creative skills of Roland Mesnier, then William Yosses and Susan Morrison. And we were fortunate to have a myriad of operations personnel, painters, carpenters, plumbers, engineers, and electricians who saw to the care of the White House.

  Finally, my lasting thanks to the wonderful Maria Galvan, who has for years been a faithful companion and friend.

  At Camp David, we received great care from camp commanders Captain Charles Reuning; Captain John Heckmann; Captain Robert McLean, III; Captain Michael O'Connor; and RDML Michael Giorgione; as well as the Navy chaplains CDR Stanley Fornea, CDR Patrick McLaughlin, and CDR Robert Williams. George and I are grateful to all the men and women at Camp David for their service to our country.

  During my tenure as first lady, I had terrific partnerships with many individuals, starting with Dr. James Billington, the Librarian of Congress. Together, with the help of his assistant JoAnn Jenkins and my staff, we established the National Book Festival, highlighting many of our nation's best authors and the great institution of the Library of Congress. The festival remains today as a favorite of book lovers. I enjoyed working with many talented administrati
on officials and good friends on key issues, including secretaries of state Condoleezza Rice and Colin Powell, secretaries of education Margaret Spellings and Rod Paige, secretaries of the interior Dirk Kempthorne and Gale Norton, Homeland Security secretaries Tom Ridge and Michael Chertoff, and secretaries of defense Donald Rumsfeld and Robert Gates. Their staffs worked with mine on initiatives for women abroad, the environment, education, and Helping America's Youth, among others. A special thanks to the directors of the National Park Service, Mary Bomar and Fran Mainella, and the National Park Foundation's past president, Vin Cipolla, as well as the many park rangers and staff who were so helpful.

  I particularly enjoyed my partnership with our nation's cultural agencies, led by Dana Gioia of the National Endowment for the Arts, Bruce Cole of the National Endowment for the Humanities, and Robert Martin and Anne-Imelda Radice, who directed the Institute of Museums and Library Services. I also want to thank John Nau, chairman of the Advisory Council on Historic Preservation; Dick Moe of the National Trust for Historic Preservation and Save America's Treasures; Henry Moran, the executive director of the President's Committee on the Arts and Humanities; and the committee's terrific past president and my good friend, Adair Margo. Thanks to Dr. Elizabeth Nabel of the National Institute of Health's National Heart Lung and Blood Institute and the Heart Truth Campaign. On Afghanistan issues, my thanks to Paula Dobriansky; the members of the U.S.-Afghan Women's Council; Dr. Phyllis Magrab, the council's vice chair; and Georgetown University, where the council now resides. Many thanks also to Sarah Moten for her work with me in Africa.

  Since 2003, the Laura Bush Foundation for America's Libraries has provided grants to school libraries across the nation to purchase books. In 2005 leading board members began a separate initiative to help rebuild devastated school library collections following the hurricanes. My heartfelt thanks to Pamela Willeford, the chair, and to the Leadership Council of the Laura Bush Foundation, J. W. Marriott Jr., chair; Ruth Sharp Altshuler; Chris Boskin; John H. Bryan; Delphine Daft; Annette Kirk; Frederic Malek; Lowry Mays; Marshall B. Payne; Lee Scott; John F. Smith Jr.; and Judi Hadfield. I also thank the foundation's advisory committee--who read the thousands of grant applications, make school visits, and conduct workshops for librarians--Jose Aponte, Dr. Eliza Dresang, Dr. Gary Hartzell, Marilyn Joyce, Dr. Larry Leverett, Dr. James Maxwell, Dr. Barbara Stein Martin, Dr. Timothy Rex Wadham, Julie Walker, Dr. Junko Yokota, Barbara Correll, and Dr. Yunfei Du, the technical adviser.