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Jinling Huo
Author's Bio
Before the American public, Barbara Bush appeared every inch the smiling, unobtrusive First Lady. But behind her beaming mask and political activities laid grief, anxiety and pride. This is the interior personality and lifestyle Barbara reveals in her autobiography Barbara Bush: A Memoir, though the authenticity of her opinions is occasionally brought to question. At times she flatters other politicians rather excessively, suggesting, perhaps, a bolder, rawer set of opinions, hidden safely behind compliments. Once when commenting on Geraldine Ferraro, the first woman candidate for vice president, Barbara told the press Ferraro was something that "rhymes with rich."1 Nonetheless, her book is a window--if a somewhat hazy one--to her past, presenting details both surprising and intimate.
The Steel Behind Bush
Before the American public, Barbara Bush appeared every inch the smiling, unobtrusive First Lady. But behind her beaming mask and political activities laid grief, anxiety and pride. This is the interior personality and lifestyle Barbara reveals in her autobiography Barbara Bush: A Memoir, though the authenticity of her opinions is occasionally brought to question. At times she flatters other politicians rather excessively, suggesting, perhaps, a bolder, rawer set of opinions, hidden safely behind compliments. Once when commenting on Geraldine Ferraro, the first woman candidate for vice president, Barbara told the press Ferraro was something that "rhymes with rich."1 Nonetheless, her book is a window--if a somewhat hazy one--to her past, presenting details both surprising and intimate.
Barbara begins with the end, describing her last day with George Bush and last minute memories in the White House. They retire from the presidential life to start anew, with difficult good-byes behind and warm welcomes ahead. On reflecting, she calls her life "a life of privilege--privilege of every kind," and justly so. 2 For, rarely does an average citizen travel as far as she has, both personally and internationally. Deaths, media, and dog-nappings are only a few of her myriad experiences. Her family and friends, she explains in the beginning, are "an emotional group and rather like a good tear or twoˇLove brings a tear. Friends bring a tear. A smile, sweetness, even a kind word brings a tear. In a life of privilege there are lots of tears."3 She even admits her book is mercifully short--at 532 pages--because of the efforts of her editor, who forbade her from using more than one "precious", "wonderful" and "close friend" on each page. In all appearance, the life Barbara prepares to retell is an ideal one, with happiness and opportunity around every corner after each hardship and loss.
From early childhood, Barbara loved her life and almost everyone in it. One of three children, she was born in New York City in 1925 to Marvin and Pauline Pierce. She grew up, however, in the city of Rye, a tight-knit community where everyone not only knew everyone, but everyone's business as well. She describes when, at the age of ten, she had walked home eating straight from a can of Marshmallow fluff. By the time she returned, her mother had received three phone calls claiming how cute Barbara looked, eating with her fingers; her mother, however, thought quite the opposite. In Barbara's eyes, Pauline Pierce was beautiful and talented, a "lucky woman who had a husband who worshiped the ground she walked on, four loving children, and a world of friends."4 Barbara's father, Marvin, was tall, good-humored, and well respected, working hard his whole life and always smiling. Then in 1941, just before Christmas vacation, Pearl Harbor was bombed. Barbara, only sixteen, had just met George Bush, only to lose him to the war. With the little time they could share together, they rushed to get married with the philosophy that, "in wartime, the rules change. You don't wait until tomorrow to do anything."5 Following their marriage was a beginning spent in Odessa, Texas, where George worked as an assemblyman in the Pacific Pumps factory.
Once married, Barbara's life began its precarious course across a sea of hardship. With two boys--Jeb and George Jr.--and a wife to support, George struggled to find a job before his savings from the Navy ran dry. Although Barbara assisted in job hunting, she never considered working to support the family as well, clearly reflecting the domestic views prevalent during her time. Money, however, was not their greatest problem. In the spring of 1949, George came home and told Barbara, with great effort, terrible news: both her parents had been in an automobile accident and her mother had been killed instantly. Marvin, on the other hand, eventually recovered and even remarried. With one tragedy over, Barbara gave birth to Pauline Robinson Bush, whom she and George fondly nicknamed Robin. But no sooner had life seemed brighter did Robin become diagnosed with leukemia. The doctors, at the time, had no solution for Barbara and her family, except to "make [Robin] as comfortable as [they] could, love her--and let her gently slip away."6 While those around her fought to keep themselves optimistic, Robin "lived each day as it came, sweet and loving, unquestioning and unselfish", even through the agonizing bone marrow tests and transfusions. 7 Before dying, she fell into a peaceful coma, leaving without pain or grief. Barbara often wept herself to sleep in her husband's arms before returning to the regular pace of her life. Once the grieving was over, she gave birth to two more boys, Neil and Marvin Jr. and entered, with her husband, into the world of politics.
By now, the Bush family had moved to Houston to better accommodate George's working conditions. And, once again, Barbara gave birth, this time to a girl, whom she named Dorothy. It was during this time George started pursuing politics; he continued climbing the political latter, taking his wife and family with him. He began as vice chair of the Republican Party of Harris County and ended as the president of the United States. Never quite accustomed to political gatherings, Barbara called political meetings "a circus, and George was like a ringmaster."8 Barbara endured endless luncheons and dinners, but immensely enjoyed the traveling they did as ambassadors. She describes her experiences in, for example, China with vigor and amusement, entirely open to the foreign food and mannerisms. When George finally decided to campaign for the presidency, however, Barbara found herself spinning in an exhausting daily routine. In addition to hectic campaigning was the media. Tactless, invasive and prying, the media set Barbara in constant turmoil and occasional amusement. She, however, learned "how to keep a stiff upper lip when things didn't go as planned," which happened frequently enough. 9 While George busied himself with politics, Barbara amused herself with White House activities and bustled about from illiteracy conventions to ladies' clubs. But life continued to throw hardships in her way. Marvin, her youngest son, came an inch away from death, suffering from colon disease, while her second youngest, Neil, was hastily found guilty of a financial scandal. Then, one day, her beloved dog was dog-napped, never to be seen again. Lastly, George lost his second presidential campaign to Bill Clinton, ending their busy yet fruitful White House years and returning them to their homes.
Undoubtedly, Barbara favored her husband over all other politicians. She saw him as the fairest man, next to her father, and loved him fiercely. Even after he lost the elections, she insisted he lost because people simply wanted changed, not for any reason involving his faults. In her preface, Barbara comments how George "often added praise for a fellow worker or shared the credit with others" and claims: "I, of course, gave it to him alone. He is my hero."10 Surely, the heavy emphasis on domesticity during Barbara's era played an important role in shaping her thinking. She constantly put herself second to George, praising his achievements while only musing over her own. Regardless of accuracy in detail, Barbara's descriptions of her husband transform him from a president to a hero. Because she knew little of actual politics, he became a key influence not only in her life, but perspective as well. For instance, Bill Clinton was, in her opinion, an inferior man to George, with a presidential speech that was "short and sounded very familiar--like John F. Kennedy's, but not quite as elegant."11 Her thinly veiled insult would hold greater credibility if not for her earlier praising of George. Similarly, many of her perspectives in other areas draw from her adoration for her husband as well. She was Oscar Wilde's Lady Chiltern brought to life, idolizing her husband for his supposed purity and perfection. Whether or not Barbara's admiration is truly realistic or well supported, her bias for her husband significantly influences both her approval and disapproval.
Behind the frequent, positive adjectives and praise lies the real Barbara. At least, that is how Eleanor Clift from the Washington Monthly interpreted such heavy optimism in her critical review of Barbara's memoirs. For instance, Barbara's nickname "Bar" is far more derogatory than she lets on to be. The nickname was taken from a horse, though she wore it without complaint. Ironically, even Barbara's silence regarding others tells much more than her 532 pages of dense detail. Her lack of words for Nancy Reagan, whom she was Second Lady with for eight years, clearly suggests her dislike or disapproval. On first impression, one may think Barbara was just a lucky woman who married the right man on her first try and lives an ideal life. But, as Clift explains, it "takes a patient reader to ferret out the true Barbara from the protective shell she has constructed around herself through the years."12 Her tongue, masked with smiles and compliments, cuts sharp and quick, retreating before gaining much notice. Clift comically refers to Barbara's tactic as a hit-and-run, with an insult thrown and a smile following immediately after. Her irritation with many contemporary politicians is openly known, yet she refrains from criticizing them, even going as far as throwing them a few insipid compliments. Her decisions are based, in theory, on what potentially affects the Republican Party, which shows just how shrewd she truly is, behind her barriers of politeness and smiles. In her case, appearances are wholly deceiving. During an interview, a question about one of her comments on George was brought up, but Barbara simply smiled and claimed she did not know, "as though the words were written by her evil twin."13 Moreover, the book could have been slimmed down dramatically, with the elimination of endless diary entries and lists of events. This extremely dense amount of detail, though, also tells something of Barbara's true intentions. She hides behind the trite and the innocent, never once accused of anything but being sweet and somewhat dowdy. On the other hand, Richard Warren Field claims in his review that she is "warm and frank," despite her shrewdness and forthright admiration for her husband. 14 Field does, however, note the lack of information on the more controversial topics involving George, such as tenure at the CIA, role in Iran-Contra, and rumored affair with Jennifer Fitzgerald, his long-time assistant, which she deems absurd. Barbara provides only minimal discussion on some of the most important issues during her time, focusing on more personal concerns and experiences instead. Nonetheless, Field considers Barbara's memoirs sincere and worth reading, particularly because of her interaction with some of the most significant political figures around the world.
At first glance, the book resembles more a never-ending diary of bland, insignificant details. Everything in Barbara's life happens practically in perfect weather, and every tragedy is overcome. What this book clearly lacks is a good diet, though Barbara claims she has spared us from infinitely more tedious diary entries describing good meals. Page after page she fills with lists of dear friends and descriptions of daily activities. With the dwindling number of past generations, though, her abundant details may serve to keep a small part of the past vibrantly alive. Nonetheless, her memoir seems a maze of stories--some humorous, some tragic and some completely irrelevant. Barbara's style of writing bounces back and forth with schizophrenia. Here and there, she certainly shows a mastery of subtlety and wit, but eventually retreats behind more bland praises and descriptions. In one section she skillfully retells a humorous, clever anecdote, and then reverts once again to weak phrases, such as "it was fun" and "she was nice". A wary reader, however, can pick his way carefully through the maze and discover a First Lady unlike any revealed in public. She offers an intimate and personal observation of her past, but her purpose seems far from persuading the audience into believing her soft, modest exterior. In avoiding confrontation with her true opinions, Barbara shields herself behind endless anecdotes, diary entries and small details. Initially, her book seems in genuine pursuit of simply describing her past--whether the audience appreciates her detailed description or not. A closer look, however, reveals her struggle in identifying herself, her place and her true beliefs. Contrary to her complacent appearance, Barbara believes strongly in tolerance, "that we're not all alike and we have to respect each other's differences."15 Even the photographs, tucked neatly between her pages, show not a smiling, dowdy woman, but a First Lady taking her role in serving her country seriously. Trapped within politics and archaic traditions, she balances unevenly between her public and private persona. Thus explains her occasionally erratic transitions in content, changing from sharp criticism to bland compliments. Despite the heavy word count of her book, Barbara does unveil a shrewder, more dominant First Lady.
Although Barbara focuses mainly on herself and her family, she does offer insight about the impact of her era. She had, after all, lived through World War II, the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. and John F. Kennedy, Watergate, the Vietnam War and the terms of at least four different presidents. On the American public, she consistently emphasizes change and adjustment. With each president, Barbara evidently notices a shift in views and preference. For instance, she notes how one article in The Lost Angeles Times wrote: "The feeling was that a second Bush term would be boring."16 Barbara never directly addresses her own view of this opinion, but she undoubtedly realizes a changing public opinion. Media, however, she harbors a particular dislike for because "the overall experience has left a bad taste in my mouthˇand makes me question what I read."17 The media grabbed hold of more advanced technology, marking a turning point in American reporting. As television became more prevalent, Barbara noticeably criticizes the media in increasing amounts, particularly for their unfair reporting of George and his campaigning. Most significant, however, is her commentary on war. Having been rushed into marriage, she of all First Ladies knows the merciless consumption of time war engenders. Although the war never affected her directly, it heightened her appreciation for moments of peace and her awareness of war's costs.
In her memoirs, Barbara offers an intimate view into her life and personality but leaves the reader to sift through the abundant minute details. Behind the text-heavy pages, she hints at her true nature, sharply contrasting the image of a nurturing and devoted mother, grandmother and wife. Although she provides less insight on external affairs, her own opinions reflect a clear change in American attitudes and values. While she remains fixed in her life, the rest of the world races towards change, leaving behind the tradition and domesticity of Barbara's era--though certainly not the politics and war. Barbara, however, feels less disappointed than expected after her White House days. For she has found that "there is life after politics! Hurrah!"18
Endnotes
1. Bergerson, Peter J. Perspective on Political Science 35 No. 1 Winter 2006, 53
2. Benze, James G. Nancy Reagan: On the White House Stage University of Kansas Lawrence, Kansas 66049, 2005, 36
3. Bergerson, Peter 53
4. Benze, James 112
5. Bergerson, Peter 53
6. Benze, James 143
7. Benze, James 140
8. Eksterowicz, Anthony J. Presidential Studies Quarterly 36 No.4 D 2006, 769
9. University Press of Kansas, Lawrence KS 66045
10. University Press of Kansas, Lawrence KS 66045
11. Eksterowicz, Anthony 770
12. Eksterowicz, Anthony 770
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