Posterity (33 page)

I remember a lot of detail about all five of you when you were little—all happy memories I retain; but alas I am vague on recent details in your lives. I am passionately interested but factoids escape me.

This summer, one or two of you, I am sure in an effort to be helpful, said “get a hearing aid” or “try listening.” I heard you. I also heard a family member (I won't say of which generation) go: “The old fogy is getting deaf.” But I had clearly heard what had gone before and I heard that “old fogy” thing too. Come to think back on it I am not sure the word used was “fogy”—not sure, not sure at all.

But on the hearing thing, here's my side of it. Each year I have my hearing checked at the Mayo Clinic. They keep telling me “very slight hearing loss—no need for a hearing aid.” So there!

What happens this year unlike last is I just tune out more: because I do not want to know when they are all thinking of going to the movies and I don't want to sign off on having someone take them all the way to Portland. So, on purpose, I either look confused or simply proceed on my way pretending to have heard nary a sound. It works.

Many times this summer I'd walk by that cluttered room off the kitchen—the TV, Nintendo, sloppy pillows on the floor lolling around the room. I'd hear a voice go “Gampster, can we”—and I'd walk on by heading for the living room. The kids thought I was deaf when I was just in quest of tranquility. I was tuning them out.

I sleep about the same as last year, but I find I am going to bed earlier but I wake up when the first sea gull, beak wide open, sends out his earliest screechiest call. Seagulls don't crow or scream, what is it they do? I forget.

This year I am more philosophical. I don't feel old at all, and I still love sports, but things are without a question different. I ache more after tennis—I mean I'm talking real hip and knee pain. Body parts hurt at night. Daytime is OK. . . . Golf's a problem—less distance this year. . . . Horseshoes, I can still hold my own. . . .

Desire—no aging in the desire department. I still want to compete. I still drive Fidelity II fast—very fast. My best so far—63 mph in a slight chop with one USSS agent on board.

I desire to play better golf, but I am allergic to practice, so I just tee it up and play fast. I can still volley but I can't cover behind me. I have the desire though. I love being out on the course or court with the greats of today or yesterday. It's more than name dropping. It's being close to excellence that I enjoy. No aging in the desire category.

If I try to read after dinner I fall asleep on the third page no matter how gripping the mystery. Read a briefing paper in bed? No way—Sominex time!

A very personal note. Three times this summer—once in June, twice in August someone has sidled up to me and whispered “Your zipper is down.” Once I responded by quoting General Vernon Walters' memorable line: “An old bird does not fall out of the nest.”

The other two times I just turned side ways, mumbled my thanks, and corrected the problem. But the difference is, 10 years ago I'd have been embarrassed. Now I couldn't care less. Tragic!

Actually I learned this zipper recovery technique from Italy's Prime Minister Andreotti. In the Oval Office one time George Shultz whispered to Andreotti that his zipper was down. Though speaking little English, Andreotti got the drift. Turning his back to all of us he stood up as if to examine the Gilbert Stuart picture of George Washington that was hanging behind President Reagan; and then with no visible concern zipped his pants up.

Last year there was only a tiny sense of time left—of sand running through the glass. This year, I must confess, I am more aware of that. No fear, no apprehension, just a feeling like “let's go—there's so much to do and there might not be a lot of time left.” And except for an ache here a pain there I feel like the proverbial spring colt. There is so much left to do.

Your kids keep me young even if I don't bend as easily or run as fast or hear as well.

Maybe I am a little grumpier when there are a whole bunch of them together making funny sounds and having too many friends over who leave too many smelly sneakers around.

And, yes, I confess I am less tolerant about the 7-up can barely sipped—left to get stale and warm or about all the lights left on or about the VCR's whose empty cases are strewn around, the tapes themselves off in another house—stuck into yet another VCR machine.

Though I try not to show it, I also get irritated now when I go to watch a tape and instead of the Hitchcock movie or my Costner film in the proper cover I find a tape of Bambi or of that horrible Simpson family—always a tape that needs rewinding, too.

This summer when he came to the Point, Kevin Costner his ownself gave me tapes of 7 of his movies. I now have 2 tapes in proper covers, empty cardboard covers for two others, the rest of the covers and the other 5 tapes gone—vanished—MIA. Am I being unreasonable here?

I have given up trying to assign blame. I did that when you all were young but I never had my heart and soul in the blame game. Now I find I tune out when someone says “Ask Jeb, he knows!” or “Gampy, I wasn't even in the boat when they hit the rock.” Or after all five gallons of French vanilla turned to mush, the freezer door having been left open all night, “I didn't do it, and I'm not saying who did, but Robert took out two Eskimo Pies after dinner—honest!” I wasn't trying to find the culprit. I was trying to safeguard our future.

I realize “Keep the freezer door closed from now on and I mean it” lacks the rhetorical depth of “This will not stand” or “Read my lips,” but back in the White House days Ramsey or George worried about closing the freezer door while I worried about other problems. The lines were more clearly drawn back then.

No there is a difference now and maybe when we reconvene next year, you'll notice even more of a gentle slide. I hope not. I want to put this “aging” on hold for awhile now.

I don't expect to be on the A team anymore; but I want to play golf with you. And I want to fish or throw shoes. And I want to rejoice in your victories be they political, or business, or family happiness victories.

And I want to be there for you if you get a bad bounce in life, and no doubt you will for the seas do indeed get rough.

When I say “be there” I don't mean just showing up—I mean in the game, in the lineup, viscerally involved in your lives even though I might be miles away.

I don't want you to pull your punches. If I call Lauren “Barbara” go ahead and give me your best shot—I can take it. But try not to say “C'mon, Alph, get with it.”

If I shed tears easier now try not to laugh at me, because I'll loose more saline and that makes me feel like a sissy, and it might make my mouth dry later on, and might be bad for digestion, too. And besides it's OK to cry if you are a man—a happy man (me) or a man faced with sadness or hurt (not me).

Hey, don't point the first finger at whom ever is shedding the tear because all Bushes cry easily when we're happy, or counting our blessings, or sad when one of us gets bruised or really hurt inside.

As the summer finishes out and the seas get a little higher, the winds a little colder, I'll be making some notes—writing it down lest I forget—so I can add to this report on getting older. Who knows maybe they'll come out with a new drug that makes legs bend easier—joints hurt less, drives go farther, memory come roaring back, and all fears about falling off fishing rocks go away.

Remember the old song “I'll be there ready when you are.” Well, I'll be there ready when you are, for there's so much excitement ahead, so many grandkids to watch grow. If you need me, I'm here.

Devotedly,
Dad

Anne Bradstreet's 1664 letter to her son Simon

Rules to
Live By

A
NNE
B
RADSTREET TO
S
IMON
B
RADSTREET

“Many can speak well, but few can do well.”

Anne Bradstreet was not only America's first female poet, she was the first American ever to have a book of poetry published. She was a Puritan who, in 1630, made the journey to New England with John Winthrop and his party aboard the
Arabella.
As the mother of eight children, keeping house in the newly settled towns of Ipswich and North Andover, she wrote poems for herself and for her family. That her work was printed at all was the doing of her brother-in-law, John Woodbridge, who in 1650, without Bradstreet's consent, published a book of her poems in London.

The following letter and “Meditations” for her second son, Simon, were discovered in Bradstreet's Massachusetts house after her death in 1672. The “Meditations,” upon which she was still working, number seventy-seven. Included here are the first four.

March 20, 1664.

For my deare Sonne Simon Bradstreet.

PARENTS perpetuate their lives in their posterity, and their maners in their imitation. Children do natureally rather follow the failings then the vertues of their predecessors, but I am perswaded better things of you. You once desired me to leave something for you in writeing that you might look upon when you should see me no more. I could think of nothing more fit for you, nor of more ease to my self, then these short meditations following. Such as they are I bequeath to you: small legacys are accepted by true friends, much more by duty full children. I have avoyded incroaching upon others conceptions, because I would leave you nothing but myne owne, though in value they fall short of all in this kinde, yet I persume they will be better prif'd by you for the Authors sake. The Lord bless you with grace heer, and crown you with glory heerafter, that I may meet you with rejoycing at that great day of appearing, which is the continuall prayer, of

your affectionate mother,
A. B.

Meditations Divine and Morall.

I.

THERE is no object that we see; no action that we doe; no good that we inioy; no evil that we feele, or fear, but we may make some spirituall advantage of all: and he that makes such improvment is wise, as well as pious.

II.

MANY can speak well, but few can do well. We are better scholars in the Theory then the practique part, but he is a true Christian that is a proficient in both.

III.

YOUTH is the time of getting, middle age of improving, and old age of spending; a negligent youth is usually attended by an ignorant middle age, and both by an empty old age. He that hath nothing to seed on but vanity and lyes must needs lye down in the Bed of sorrow.

IV.

A SHIP that beares much saile, and little or no ballast, is easily overset; and that man, whose head hath great abilities, and his heart little or no grace, is in danger of foundering.

B
ENJAMIN
F
RANKLIN TO
W
ILLIAM
F
RANKLIN

“The resolution you have taken to use more
exercise is extremely proper . . .”

By the 1770s Benjamin Franklin was the most famous American in the world. His extremely popular
Poor Richard's Almanac
series and the invention of the lightning rod made his name known in households in America and abroad. From 1757 through 1775, returning to America from 1762 to 1764, Franklin served as the American agent to Great Britian and, as always, continued with his scientific pursuits and interests. Intrigued by the cause and spread of the common cold, he concluded—against the wisdom of the day: “People often catch cold from one another when shut up together in small close rooms.” Fresh air, he was certain, particularly fresh air taken during outdoor exercise, was the best preventative measure. Here, with a thoroughly modern view of physical exertion, sixty-seven-year-old Franklin responds to forty-year-old William, who had written of a recent “indisposition.”

London Augt. 19: 1772

To Governor Franklin, New Jersey

In yours of May 14th, you acquaint me with your indisposition, which gave me great concern. The resolution you have taken to use more exercise is extremely proper, and I hope you will steadily perform it. It is of the greatest importance to prevent diseases; since the cure of them by physic is so very precarious. In considering the different kinds of exercise, I have thought that the
quantum
of each is to be judged of, not by time or by distance, but by the degree of warmth it produces in the body: Thus when I observe if I am cold when I get into a carriage in a morning, I may ride all day without being warmed by it, that if on horse back my feet are cold, I may ride some hours before they become warm; but if I am ever so cold on foot, I cannot walk an hour briskly, without glowing from head to foot by the quickened circulation; I have been ready to say, (using round numbers without regard to exactness, but merely to mark a great difference) that there is more exercise in
one
mile's riding on horseback, than in
five
in a coach; and more in
one
mile's walking on foot, than in
five
on horseback; to which I may add, that there is more in walking
one
mile up and down stairs, than in
five
on a level floor. The two latter exercises may be had within doors, when the weather discourages going abroad; and the last may be had when one is pinched for time, as containing a great quantity of exercise in a handful of minutes. The dumb bell is another exercise of the latter compendious kind; by the use of it I have in forty swings quickened my pulse from 60 to 100 beats in a minute, counted by a second watch: And I suppose the warmth generally increases with quickness of pulse.

B
ENJAMIN AND
J
ULIA
R
USH TO
J
OHN
R
USH

“Remember at all times that while you are seeing
the world, the world will see you.”

Benjamin Rush was involved in almost everything. He was a signer of the Declaration of Independence and served in the Revolutionary War. He was a well-known and celebrated physician who treated all of his patients, rich and poor, with equal attention and care. He opposed slavery and capital punishment, and championed the free American public school. He was involved in the founding of five institutions of higher learning, worked for the humane treatment of the mentally ill, was the first American-born person to hold the title of professor of chemistry and for sixteen years served as the treasurer of the United States Mint. Because of his fearless, though controversial, treatment of the afflicted during Philadelphia's terrifying yellow fever epidemic of 1793, he was a popular hero.

The eldest of Benjamin and Julia Rush's thirteen children, John Rush became a surgeon. Apparently, throughout most of his adult life, John struggled with mental instability and his medical career was spotty at best. Tragically, three years before his father's death, John went insane following a duel in which he killed a friend. He was institutionalized at the Pennsylvania Hospital (Benjamin Rush's hospital) and remained there for twenty-seven years until his death in 1837.

In 1796, when Benjamin and Julia Rush wrote the following letter to their son, it seemed that John's mental troubles had not yet begun. He was twenty-one years old and, having finished a medical apprenticeship with his father, he was headed to India.

[May 18, 1796]

Directions and advice to Jno. Rush from his father and mother composed the evening before he sailed for Calcutta, May 18th, 1796.

We shall divide these directions into four heads, as they relate to
morals, knowledge, health
, and
business
.

I. Morals

1. Be punctual in committing your soul and body to the protection of your Creator every morning and evening. Implore at the same time his mercy in the name of his Son, our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.

2. Read in your Bible frequently, more especially on Sundays.

3. Avoid swearing and even an irreverent use of your Creator's name.
Flee
youthful lusts.

4. Be courteous and gentle in your behavior to your fellow passengers, and respectful and obedient to the captain of the vessel.

5. Attend public worship regularly every Sunday when you arrive at Calcutta.

II. Knowledge

1. Begin by studying Guthrie's
Geography
.

2. Read your other books
through
carefully, and converse daily upon the subjects of your reading.

3. Keep a diary of every day's studies, conversations, and transactions at sea and on shore. Let it be composed in a fair, legible hand. Insert in it an account of the population, manners, climate, diseases, &c., of the places you visit.

4. Preserve an account of every person's name and disease whom you attend.

III. Health

1. Be temperate in eating, more especially of animal food. Never
taste
distilled spirits of any kind, and drink fermented liquors very sparingly.

2. Avoid the night air in sickly situations. Let your dress be rather warmer than the weather would seem to require. Carefully avoid fatigue from all causes both of body and mind.

IV. Business

1. Take no step in laying out your money without the advice and consent of the captain or supercargo. Let no solicitations prevail with you to leave the captain and supercargo during your residence in Calcutta.

2. Keep an exact account of all your expenditures. Preserve as vouchers of them all your bills.

3. Take care of all your instruments, books, clothes, &c.

Be sober and vigilant. Remember at all times that while you are seeing the world, the world will see you. Recollect further that you are always under the eye of the Supreme Being. One more consideration shall close this parting testimony of our affection. Whenever you are tempted to do an improper thing, fancy that you see your father and mother kneeling before you and imploring you with tears in their eyes to refrain from yielding to the temptation, and assuring you at the same time that your yielding to it will be the means of hurrying them to a premature grave.

Benjn Rush
Julia Rush

J
OHN
D
.
R
OCKEFELLER,
J
R., TO
J
OHN
D
.
R
OCKEFELLER,
III

“At the end of each week during which John has kept his accounts accurately and to Papa's satisfaction . . .”

Ever conscious of the responsibilities of his position, John D. Rockefeller, Jr., made certain his father's vast Standard Oil fortune was used for the betterment of mankind. The list of his philanthropic efforts is staggering and includes such contributions as financial support for the restoration of Versailles and the Rheims Cathedral, providing forty-six thousand acres to the United States government to establish Acadia National Park and Grand Teton National Park, preserving land along the Hudson River to forever protect the spectacular view from northern Manhattan, donating the land for the United Nations headquarters and spearheading the restoration and establishment of Colonial Williamsburg.

By 1920 the eldest John D. Rockefeller had shifted the balance of the fortune, money and burden, to his forty-six-year-old son and namesake. Here the second generation, John D. Rockfeller, Jr., lays out the financial expectations for the third generation, his son, fourteen-year-old John D. Rockefeller, III.

Memorandum between
PAPA
and
JOHN
.
Regarding an Allowance.

1. Beginning with May 1st, John's allowance is to be at the rate of One dollar and fifty cents ($1.50) per week.

2. At the end of each week during which John has kept his accounts accurately and to Papa's satisfaction, the allowance for the succeeding week will be increased ten cents (10¢) over the week just ended, up to but not beyond a total per week of two dollars ($2.00).