I'm no fan of former (yay!) President Bush, and as much as
the "liberal media" might agree with me, it's important to 
remember
that Bush is someone's daddy.
That's what this letter from Jenna and Barbara Bush to Sasha
and Malia Obama reminded me. That every time someone hurls an insult at Bush or
calls him names, his daughters are right there reading it in the newspaper or
watching it on TV. (I'd wager that the Bush twins gave up on The Daily Show a
long time ago.)
Of course, you could argue that if Bush weren't such a…
well, whatever you think of him, this wouldn't be a problem. When you become
president, you give up a certain amount of privacy (okay, you give up all
privacy). And you give up a certain amount of your kids' privacy as well. And
you open yourself up to criticism from, well, from everyone in the world.
But it sounds like the kids get a lot in return. Here's an
excerpt from the Bush twins' letter to the Obama girls about their experiences
in the White House, both as granddaughters of the first President Bush and as
daughters of the second; the full text can be found here.
When we played house, we sat behind the East sitting room's
massive curtains as the light poured in illuminating her yellow walls. Our
seven-year-old imaginations soared as we played in the enormous, beautiful
rooms; our dreams, our games, as romantic as her surroundings. At night, the
house sang us quiet songs through the chimneys as we fell asleep. In late December,
when snow blanketed the front lawn, all of our cousins overtook the White
House. Thirteen children between the ages of two and 12 ran throughout her
halls, energized by the crispness in the air and the spirit of the season.
Every room smelled of pine; the entire house was adorned with thistle; garlands
wound around every banister. We sat on her grand staircase and spied on the
holiday dancing below. Hours were spent playing hide-and-go-seek. We used a
stage in the grand ballroom to produce a play about Santa and his reindeer. We
watched as the National Christmas Tree was lit and admired the chef as he put
the final icing on the gingerbread house.
But what really choked me up was their closing paragraph:
And finally, although it's an honor and full of so many
extraordinary opportunities, it isn't always easy being a member of the club
you are about to join. Our dad, like yours, is a man of great integrity and
love; a man who always put us first. We still see him now as we did when we
were seven: as our loving daddy. Our Dad, who read to us nightly, taught us how
to score tedious baseball games. He is our father, not the sketch in a paper or
part of a skit on TV. Many people will think they know him, but they have no
idea how he felt the day you were born, the pride he felt on your first day of
school, or how much you both love being his daughters. So here is our most
important piece of advice: remember who your dad really is.
George W. Bush may not have been the best president, but to
two girls, he's the best dad.
