조지 허버트 워커 부시

조지 허버트 워커 부시의 삶을 보고 들수 있었던 것은 나로서는 큰 배움이었다. 그의 인품과 습관을 배우고 닮고 싶다. 어제(2019년 12월 5일) 장례식에서 있었던 조사들을 모아 올려둔다.

 

Presidential biographer Jon Meacham delivered a eulogy at George H.W. Bush funeral Wednesday, telling stories about the 41st U.S. president's service during wartime and humanitarian efforts. Bush was a "loving man with a big, vibrant, all-enveloping heart," Meacham said.

 

JON MEACHAM: The story was almost over even before it had fully begun.

 

Shortly after dawn on Saturday, September 2nd, 1944, Lieutenant Junior Grade George Herbert Walker Bush, joined by two crew mates, took off from the USS San Jacinto to attack a radio tower on Chichi Jima.As they approached the target, the air was heavy with flak. The plane was hit, smoke filled the cockpit, flames raced across the wings. "My God," Lieutenant Bush thought, "this thing's gonna go down."

 

Yet he kept the plane in its 35 degree dive, dropped his bombs, and then roared off out to sea, telling his crew mates to hit the silk.

 

Following protocol, Lieutenant Bush turned the plane so they could bail out. only then did Bush parachute from the cockpit.

 

The wind propels him backward and he gashed his head on the tail of the plane as he flew through the sky. He plunged deep into the ocean, bobbed to the surface, and flopped onto a tiny raft, his head bleeding, his eyes burning, his mouth and throat raw from salt water.

 

The future 41st president of the United States was alone.

 

Sensing that his men had not made it, he was overcome. He felt the weight of responsibility as a nearly physical burden, and he wept.

 

Then, at four minutes shy of noon, a submarine emerged to rescue the downed pilot. George Herbert Walker Bush was safe. The story, his story and ours, would go on, by God's grace. MEACHAM: Through the ensuing decades, President Bush would frequently ask nearly daily -- he'd ask himself, "Why me? Why was I spared?"

 

And in a sense, the rest of his life was a perennial effort to prove himself worthy of his salvation on that distant morning. To him, his life was no longer his own. There were always more missions to undertake, more lives to touch and more love to give.

 

And what a headlong race he made of it all. He never slowed down.

 

On the primary campaign trail in New Hampshire once, he grabbed the hand of a department store mannequin, asking for votes.

 

(LAUGHTER)

 

When he realized his mistake, he said, "Never know. Gotta ask."

 

(LAUGHTER)

 

You can hear the voice, can't you? As Dana Carvey said, "The key to a Bush 41 impersonation is Mr. Rogers trying to be John Wayne."

 

(LAUGHTER)

 

George Herbert Walker Bush was America's last great soldier-statesman, a 20th century founding father. He governed with virtues that most closely resemble those of Washington and of Adams, of T.R. and of FDR, of Truman and of Eisenhower, of men who believed in causes larger than themselves.

 

Six foot two, handsome, dominant in person, President Bush spoke with those big, strong hands, making fists to underscore points. A master of what Franklin Roosevelt called "the science of human relationships," he believed that to whom much was given, much is expected. And because life gave him so much, he gave back again and again and again.

 

He stood in the breach in the Cold War against totalitarianism. He stood in the breach in Washington against unthinking partisanship. He stood in the breach against tyranny and discrimination. And on his watch, a wall fell in Berlin, a dictator's aggression did not stand, and doors across America opened to those with disabilities.

 

And in his personal life, he stood in the breach against heartbreak and hurt, always offering an outstretched hand, a warm word, a sympathetic tear. If you were down, he would rush to lift you up. And if you were soaring, he would rush to savor your success.

 

Strong and gracious, comforting and charming, loving and loyal, he was our shield in danger's hour.

 

Now, of course, there was ambition, too -- loads of that. To serve he had to succeed; to preside, he had to prevail.MEACHAM: "Politics," he once admitted, "isn't a peer undertaking; not if you want to win, it's not." An imperfect man, he left us a more perfect union.

 

It must be said that for a keenly intelligent statesman of stirring, almost unparalleled, private eloquence, public speaking was not exactly a strong suit. "Fluency in English," President Bush once remarked, "is something that I'm often not accused of."

 

Looking ahead to the '88 election, he observed, "Inarguably, it's no exaggeration to say that the undecideds could go one way or the other."

 

(LAUGHTER)

 

And late in his presidency, he allowed that, "We're enjoying sluggish times, but we're not enjoying them very much."

 

His tongue may have run amok at moments, but his heart was steadfast. His life code, as he said, was, "Tell the truth. Don't blame people. Be strong. Do your best. Try hard. Forgive. Stay the course." And that was, and is, the most American of creeds.

 

Abraham Lincoln's "better angels of our nature" and George H.W. Bush's "thousand points of light" are companion verses in American's national hymn, for Lincoln and Bush both called on us to choose the right over the convenient, to hope rather than to fear, and to heed not our worst impulses, but our best instincts.

 

In this work, he had the most wonderful of allies in Barbara Pierce Bush, his wife of 73 years. He called her "Bar," "the Silver Fox," and, when the situation warranted, "the Enforcer."

 

He was the only boy she ever kissed. Her children, Mrs. Bush liked to say, always wanted to throw up when they heard that.

 

(LAUGHTER)

 

In a letter to Barbara during the war, young George H.W. Bush had written, "I love you, precious, with all my heart. And to know that you love me, means my life. How lucky our children will be to have a mother like you."

 

And as they will tell you, they surely were.

 

As vice president, Bush once visited a children's leukemia ward in Krakow. Thirty-five years before, he and Barbara had lost a daughter, Robin, to the disease.

 

In Krakow, a small boy wanted to greet the American vice president. Learning that the child was sick with the cancer that had taken Robin, Bush began to cry.

 

To his diary later that day, the vice president said this, "My eyes flooded with tears. And behind me was a bank of television cameras. And I thought, 'I can't turn around. I can't dissolve because of personal tragedy, in the face of the nurses that give of themselves every day.'

 

"So I stood there, looking at this little guy, tears running down my cheek, hoping he wouldn't see. But if he did, hoping he'd feel that I loved him."

 

That was the real George H.W. Bush: A loving man with a big, vibrant, all-enveloping heart.

 

And so we ask, as we commend his soul to God, and as he did, why him? Why was he spared?

 

The workings of providence are mysterious, but this much is clear: that George Herbert Walker Bush, who survived that fiery fall into the waters of the Pacific three-quarters of a century ago, made our lives and the lives of nations freer, better, warmer and nobler.

 

That was his mission. That was his heartbeat.

 

And if we listen closely enough, we can hear that heartbeat even now. For it's the heartbeat of a lion; a lion who not only led us, but who loved us.

 

That's why him. That's why he was spared.

 

<조지 W. 부시의 조사>

 

“Distinguished Guests, including our Presidents and First Ladies, government officials, foreign dignitaries, and friends: Jeb, Neil, Marvin, Doro, and I, and our families, thank you all for being here.

 

I once heard it said of man that “The idea is to die young as late as possible.” (Laughter.)

 

At age 85, a favorite pastime of George H. W. Bush was firing up his boat, the Fidelity, and opening up the three-300 horsepower engines to fly – joyfully fly – across the Atlantic, with Secret Service boats straining to keep up.

 

At 90, George H. W. Bush parachuted out of an aircraft and landed on the grounds of St. Ann’s by the Sea in Kennebunkport, Maine – the church where his mom was married and where he’d worshipped often. Mother liked to say he chose the location just in case the chute didn’t open. (Laughter.)

 

In his 90’s, he took great delight when his closest pal, James A. Baker, smuggled a bottle of Grey Goose vodka into his hospital room. Apparently, it paired well with the steak Baker had delivered from Morton’s. (Laughter.)

 

To his very last days, Dad’s life was instructive. As he aged, he taught us how to grow old with dignity, humor, and kindness – and, when the Good Lord finally called, how to meet Him with courage and with joy in the promise of what lies ahead.

 

One reason Dad knew how to die young is that he almost did it – twice. When he was a teenager, a staph infection nearly took his life. A few years later he was alone in the Pacific on a life raft, praying that his rescuers would find him before the enemy did.

 

God answered those prayers. It turned out He had other plans for George H.W. Bush. For Dad’s part, I think those brushes with death made him cherish the gift of life. And he vowed to live every day to the fullest.

 

Dad was always busy – a man in constant motion – but never too busy to share his love of life with those around him. He taught us to love the outdoors. He loved watching dogs flush a covey. He loved landing the elusive striper. And once confined to a wheelchair, he seemed happiest sitting in his favorite perch on the back porch at Walker’s Point contemplating the majesty of the Atlantic. The horizons he saw were bright and hopeful. He was a genuinely optimistic man. And that optimism guided his children and made each of us believe that anything was possible.

 

He continually broadened his horizons with daring decisions. He was a patriot. After high school, he put college on hold and became a Navy fighter pilot as World War II broke out. Like many of his generation, he never talked about his service until his time as a public figure forced his hand. We learned of the attack on Chichi Jima, the mission completed, the shoot-down. We learned of the death of his crewmates, whom he thought about throughout his entire life. And we learned of his rescue.

 

And then, another audacious decision; he moved his young family from the comforts of the East Coast to Odessa, Texas. He and mom adjusted to their arid surroundings quickly. He was a tolerant man. After all, he was kind and neighborly to the women with whom he, mom and I shared a bathroom in our small duplex – even after he learned their profession – ladies of the night. (Laughter.)

 

Dad could relate to people from all walks of life. He was an empathetic man. He valued character over pedigree. And he was no cynic. He looked for the good in each person – and usually found it.

 

Dad taught us that public service is noble and necessary; that one can serve with integrity and hold true to the important values, like faith and family. He strongly believed that it was important to give back to the community and country in which one lived. He recognized that serving others enriched the giver’s soul. To us, his was the brightest of a thousand points of light.

 

In victory, he shared credit. When he lost, he shouldered the blame. He accepted that failure is part of living a full life, but taught us never to be defined by failure. He showed us how setbacks can strengthen.

 

None of his disappointments could compare with one of life’s greatest tragedies, the loss of a young child. Jeb and I were too young to remember the pain and agony he and mom felt when our three-year-old sister died. We only learned later that Dad, a man of quiet faith, prayed for her daily. He was sustained by the love of the Almighty and the real and enduring love of our mom. Dad always believed that one day he would hug his precious Robin again.

 

He loved to laugh, especially at himself. He could tease and needle, but never out of malice. He placed great value on a good joke. That’s why he chose Simpson to speak. (Laughter.) on email, he had a circle of friends with whom he shared or received the latest jokes. His grading system for the quality of the joke was classic George Bush. The rare 7s and 8s were considered huge winners – most of them off-color. (Laughter.)

 

George Bush knew how to be a true and loyal friend. He honored and nurtured his many friendships with his generous and giving soul. There exist thousands of handwritten notes encouraging, or sympathizing, or thanking his friends and acquaintances.

 

He had an enormous capacity to give of himself. Many a person would tell you that dad became a mentor and a father figure in their life. He listened and he consoled. He was their friend. I think of Don Rhodes, Taylor Blanton, Jim Nantz, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and perhaps the unlikeliest of all, the man who defeated him, Bill Clinton. My siblings and I refer to the guys in this group as “brothers from other mothers.” (Laughter.)

 

He taught us that a day was not meant to be wasted. He played golf at a legendary pace. I always wondered why he insisted on speed golf. He was a good golfer.

 

Well, here’s my conclusion: he played fast so that he could move on to the next event, to enjoy the rest of the day, to expend his enormous energy, to live it all. He was born with just two settings: full throttle, then sleep. (Laughter)

 

He taught us what it means to be a wonderful father, grandfather, and great grand-father. He was firm in his principles and supportive as we began to seek our own ways. He encouraged and comforted, but never steered. We tested his patience – I know I did (laughter) – but he always responded with the great gift of unconditional love.

 

Last Friday, when I was told he had minutes to live, I called him. The guy who answered the phone said, “I think he can hear you, but hasn’t say anything most of the day. I said, “Dad, I love you, and you’ve been a wonderful father.” And the last words he would ever say on earth were, “I love you, too.”

 

To us, he was close to perfect. But, not totally perfect. His short game was lousy. (Laughter.) He wasn’t exactly Fred Astaire on the dance floor. (Laughter.) The man couldn’t stomach vegetables, especially broccoli. (Laughter.) And by the way, he passed these genetic defects along to us. (Laughter.)

 

Finally, every day of his 73 years of marriage, Dad taught us all what it means to be a great husband. He married his sweetheart. He adored her. He laughed and cried with her. He was dedicated to her totally.

 

In his old age, dad enjoyed watching police show reruns, volume on high (laughter), all the while holding mom’s hand. After mom died, Dad was strong, but all he really wanted to do was to hold mom’s hand, again.

 

Of course, Dad taught me another special lesson. He showed me what it means to be a President who serves with integrity, leads with courage, and acts with love in his heart for the citizens of our country. When the history books are written, they will say that George H.W. Bush was a great President of the United States – a diplomat of unmatched skill, a Commander in Chief of formidable accomplishment, and a gentleman who executed the duties of his office with dignity and honor.

 

In his Inaugural Address, the 41st President of the United States said this: “We cannot hope only to leave our children a bigger car, a bigger bank account. We must hope to give them a sense of what it means to be a loyal friend, a loving parent, a citizen who leaves his home, his neighborhood and town better than he found it. What do we want the men and women who work with us to say when we are no longer there? That we were more driven to succeed than anyone around us? Or that we stopped to ask if a sick child had gotten better, and stayed a moment there to trade a word of friendship?”

 

Well, Dad – we’re going remember you for exactly that and so much more.

 

And we’re going to miss you. Your decency, sincerity, and kind soul will stay with us forever. So, through our tears, let us see the blessings of knowing and loving you – a great and noble man, and the best father a son or daughter could have.

 

And in our grief, let us smile knowing that Dad is hugging Robin and holding mom’s hand again.”

 

워싱턴 포스트

<George W. Bush’s grief for his dad, George H.W. Bush, is both intimate and historic> By Steve Hendrix December 5 at 12:45 PM

 

This was new. Americans had never watched a president say goodbye to another president who was also his father. And the moment proved to be as personal as it was historic.

 

As George W. Bush spoke before the casket containing the body of George H.W. Bush at Washington National Cathedral on Wednesday, his face was a map of pain. He held his composure until the end of his eulogy. Then his voice shook and, finally, he broke down and sobbed.

 

Amid the commanders in chief, past and present, the honor guards and the trappings of state, the 43rd president at the pulpit was nothing more than a boy crying for his dad.

 

“Through our tears, let us know the blessings of knowing and loving you, a great and noble man, the best father a son or daughter could have,” Bush said, slumping in his grief.

 

There has long been speculation about the relationship between the first father and son to reach the White House since John Adams and John Quincy Adams two centuries ago. (The younger Adams learned of the elder’s death only after his burial.) Historians have scoured the path both Bushes took — Yale, stints flying fighter planes, the oil business and politics — for every sign of rivalry, jealousy and intrafamily psychodrama. Oedipus Tex.

 

But the reality was simpler, historians say, and was visible in George W. Bush’s grief, as the 43rd president remembered the 41st.

 

 “We tested his patience," his oldest son told mourners. “I know I did.”

 

Rather than Greek drama, the Bushes had an ordinary father-son bond that played out in extraordinary settings, these scholars contend. There were good times and bad, periods of distance and rebellion, the pain of loss and the joy of triumph. But whatever the weather, the climate was always loving.

 

“I think it was a tense relationship when George W. was in his sowing-his-wild-oats phase; and that was a pretty long phase,” said Jeffrey Engel, director of the Center for Presidential History at Southern Methodist University, who has interviewed both Bushes. “But by the end, they were peers.”

 

Presidential scholar Mark Updegrove spent years talking with the Bushes and those who knew them for his 2017 book about their relationship, “The Last Republicans.” Of all the anecdotes he collected, he finds one of the most telling to be a moment of everyday parenting: George and Barbara Bush were walking with their toddler son when little George went into a tantrum, wind-milling blows against his dad.

 

“His father just holds him at bay with a palm against his red forehead and until he tires out,” Updegrove said. “And then they just walk. There was a way in which George W. would transgress and his father would have the patience to know that his better angels would eventually take hold.”

 

Both presidents resisted any effort to “put them on the couch,” but the senior Bush left a rich emotional record in thousands of letters he wrote to family and friends through his life. In them, he makes clear the full play of fatherly emotion toward his often-rambunctious eldest child.

 

 “Georgie has grown to be a near-man, talks dirty once in a while and occasionally swears, aged 4 1/2,” he wrote to his friend Gerry Bemiss soon after taking his family from Connecticut to Midland, Tex. “He lives in his cowboy clothes.”

 

And then when his son was 9: “Georgie aggravates the hell out of me at times (I am sure I do the same to him), but then at times I am so proud of him I could die,” he wrote to his father-in-law. “He is out for Little League — so eager. He tries so very hard. It makes me think back to all the times I tried out.”

 

In 1953, the boy was old enough to understand that tragedy had come to the family. His younger sister, Robin, had been sick. The Bushes had taken her to New York for treatment and one day months later, he was thrilled when they returned.

 

“I remember seeing them pull up and thinking I saw my little sister in the back of the car. I remember that as sure as I’m sitting here,” he told The Washington Post in a 1999 interview. “I run over to the car, and there’s no Robin.”

 

She had died of leukemia, a crushing loss that by all accounts brought the Bushes closer together as a couple and a family.

 

Soon after, George H.W. Bush began his political rise that took him from local party boss to Congress, national Republican chairman, U.N. ambassador and head of the CIA. His son, meanwhile, fell in line on the father’s path to the Ivy League and then back to Texas to look for oil.

 

It was a well-documented stretch of both work and partying for the younger Bush. His drinking produced some public embarrassments — including one 1985 episode in which he shouted profanity at Wall Street Journal reporter Al Hunt in a Dallas restaurant over a political story that he thought slighted his father, who was then in his second term as vice president.

 

The boozing was worrying his wife, Laura, and, Bush would say later, alcohol “was beginning to crowd out my energies.” But the elder Bush’s lofty roles also loomed large. “He looked in the mirror and said, ‘Someday I might embarrass my father,’ ” his friend Joe O’Neil recounted in Updegrove’s book.

 

George W. would quit cold turkey in July 1986. That same month, his father asked him to be a senior adviser to his presidential campaign.

 

“There is not one scintilla of evidence that he ever thought his son was badly wayward,” Updegrove said. “The narrative that George W. Bush was the family ne’er-do-well is vastly overblown.

 

”The younger Bush quickly became a full participant in the Bush apparatus, serving as pugnacious gatekeeper during the campaign and an enforcer of sorts in the White House.

 

“If he needed someone fired, it was often W. who did it,” Engel said.

 

Father and son had become political partners, even if there was a vast gulf between president and adviser. Remarkably, even that gap would close. Employing all the family assets — from fundraising to friendships — George W. began his own rapid political rise, from the governorship of Texas to, finally, the same Oval Office his dad had occupied.

 

If there was any rivalry in having to share the country’s highest title with his son, it didn’t show in the giddy, exuberant, detailed letter about George W.’s inauguration that the elder Bush wrote to his friend Hugh Sidey, a Time magazine writer. Friends were suddenly calling him “41.”

 

“It’s funny after all these years to get a new name; but, hey, what does it matter if your boy is the president of the United States of America so help me God,” he wrote.

 

They frequently called each other “Mr. President” when together, Engel said, a respectful joke open to no father and son but them.

 

History may have gotten its best insight into this remarkable relationship at the very end of it. In George H.W. Bush’s final minutes, they put a phone to his. It was George W. The dying man had not spoken in hours, but the younger hoped he would hear.

 

“ ‘Dad,’ I said, ‘I love you. You’ve been a wonderful father,' " George W. recounted during his eulogy.

 

And the last words the 41st president ever spoke were to the 43rd, a four-word epitaph of everything they meant to each other:

 

“I love you, too.”

 

-전 캐나다 총리 브라이언 멀루니의 조사-

<Here is the eulogy former prime minister Brian Mulroney's delivered at George H.W. Bush's funeral.>

 

Do you remember where you were the Summer you left your teenage years behind and turned 20?

 

I was working as a laborer in my hometown in Northern Quebec, trying to make enough money to finance my years at law school.

 

It was a tough job but I was safe and secure and had the added benefit of my mother’s home cooking every night.

 

On September 2, 1944 – as we have just heard – 20 year old Lieutenant George Bush was preparing to attack Japanese war installations in the Pacific.

 

He was part of a courageous generation of young Americans who led the charge – against overwhelming odds – in the historic and bloody battle for supremacy in the Pacific against the colossal military might of Imperial Japan.

 

That’s what George Bush did the Summer he turned 20.

 

Many men of differing talents and skills have served as President and many more will do so as the decades unfold, bringing new strength and glory to these United States of America.

 

And 50 or 100 years from now, as historians review the accomplishments and context of all who have served as President, I believe it will be said that, in the life of this country – which is in my judgement, the greatest democratic republic that God has ever placed on the face of this earth – no occupant of the Oval Office was more courageous, more principled and more honorable than George Herbert Walker Bush.

 

George Bush was a highly accomplished man who also had a delightful sense of humour and was a lot of fun.

 

At his first NATO meeting as the new U.S. President, George – who sat opposite me – took copious notes as the heads of governments spoke. We were limited in time.

 

It is very flattering to have the President of the U.S. take notes as you speak and, even someone as modest as me, threw in a few adjectives here and there to extend the pleasure of the experience.

 

After President Mitterand, Prime Minister Thatcher and Chancellor Kohl had spoken it was the turn of the Prime Minister of Iceland who – as President Bush continued to write – went on and on and on and on – ending only when the Secretary General of NATO firmly decreed a coffee break.

 

George put down his pen, walked over to me and said: “Brian, I have just learned the fundamental principle of international affairs”. “What’s that?” I asked. Bush replied, “the smaller the country, the longer the speech”.

 

In the second year of the Bush presidency, responding to implacable pressures from the Reagan and Bush administrations, the Soviet Union imploded. This was the most epochal political event of the 20th century.

 

 

An ominous situation that could have become extremely menacing to world security was instead deftly channelled by the leadership of President Bush into the broad and powerful currents of freedom, providing the Russian people with the opportunity to build an embryonic democracy in a country that had been ruled by czars and tyrants for a thousand years.

 

As the Berlin Wall collapsed soon thereafter and calls for freedom cascaded across central and Eastern Europe, leaving dictators and dogma in the trashcan of history, no challenge assumed greater importance for Western solidarity than the unification of Germany within an unswerving NATO. But old fears in Western Europe and unrelenting hostility by the military establishment in the U.S.S.R. and the Warsaw Pact rendered this initiative among the most complex and sensitive ever undertaken.

 

One serious misstep and the entire process could have been compromised, perhaps irretrievably.

 

There is obviously no more knowledgeable or competent judge of what really happened at this most vital juncture of 20th century history than Chancellor Helmut Kohl of Germany himself. In a speech to a parliamentary commission of the Bundestag , he said categorically that this historic initiative of German reunification could never have succeeded without the brilliant leadership of President Bush.

 

Much has been written about the first Gulf War. Simply put, the coalition of 29 disparate nations assembled under the aegis of the United Nations – including for the first time many influential Arab countries – and led by the United States will rank with the most spectacular and successful international initiatives ever undertaken in modern history, designed to punish an aggressor, defend the cause of freedom and ensure order in a region that had seen too much of the opposite for far too long. This was President Bush’s initiative from beginning to end.

 

President Bush was also responsible for the North American Free Trade Agreement – recently modernized and improved by new administrations – which created the largest and richest free trade area in the history of the world, while also signing into law the Americans With Disabilities Act which transformed the lives of millions of Americans forever.

 

President Bush's decision to go forward with strong environmental legislation, including the Clean Air Act that resulted in an Acid Rain Accord with Canada, is a splendid gift to future generations of Americans and Canadians to savour in the air they breathe, the water they drink, the forests they enjoy, and the lakes, rivers and streams they cherish.

 

There is a word for this: it is called "leadership" -- and let me tell you that when George Bush was President of the United States of America, every single head of government in the world knew they were dealing with a true gentlemen, a genuine leader - one who was distinguished, resolute and brave.

 

I do not keep a diary but occasionally I write private notes after important personal or professional events. one occurred at Walker’s Point in Kennebunkport, Maine, on September 2, 2001. Mila and I had been spending our traditional Labor Day weekend with George and Barbara and towards the end he and I had a private conversation. My notes capture the moment: “I told George how I thought his mood had shifted over the last 8 years. From a series of frustrations and moments of despondency in 1993 to the high enthusiasm of the Houston launch of the Presidential Library and George W.’s election as Governor in November 1994, to the delight following Jeb’s election in 1998 followed by their great pride and pleasure with George W.’s election to the presidency, to the serenity we found today in both Barbara and George. They are truly at peace with themselves, joyous in what they and the children have achieved, gratified by the goodness that God has bestowed upon them all and genuinely content with the thrill and promise of each passing day.

 

At that, George, who had tears in his eyes as I spoke, said: “Brian, you’ve got us pegged just right – and the roller coaster of emotions we’ve experienced since 1992. Come with me.”

 

He led me down the porch at Walker’s Point to the side of the house that fronts the ocean and pointed to a small, simple plaque that had been unobtrusively installed some days earlier. It read: “CAVU”.

 

He said: “Brian, this stands for “Ceiling and visibility unlimited.” When I was a terrified 18-19 year old pilot in the Pacific those were the words we hoped to hear before takeoff. It meant perfect flying. That’s the way I feel about our life today – CAVU – everything is perfect. Bar and I could not have asked for better lives. We are truly happy and truly at peace.”

 

As I looked over the waters off Walker’s Point on that golden September afternoon in Maine, I was reminded of the lines – simple and true – that speak to the nature of George Bush and his love of family and precious surroundings.

 

There are wooden ships,

 

There are sailing ships,

 

There are ships that sail the sea,

 

But the best ships are friendships

 

And may they always be.

 

<Humor was always at the center of Sen. Alan Simpson's life, and he brought it to Bush's eulogy>

William Cummings, USA TODAY Published 2:03 p.m. ET Dec. 5, 2018 | Updated 6:09 p.m. ET Dec. 5, 2018

 

Former Sen. Alan Simpson drew laughter from the gathered dignitaries Wednesday as he remembered some of the lighter moments from the time he spent over the years with his friend George H.W. Bush in his address at the former president's funeral in Washington.

 

Simpson, a Wyoming Republican, served three terms in the Senate from 1979 to 1997 and was rumored to be on Bush's short list of vice presidential candidates in 1988.

 

"Humor is the universal solvent against the abrasive elements of life," Simpson said Wednesday. It was a phrase his mother often repeated, he told biographer Donald Loren Hardy in the 2011 book, "Shooting from the Lip: From the Life of Senator Alan Simpson."

 

He said that while Bush loved a good joke, "he could never, ever remember a punchline. And I mean never."

 

Simpson dropped a few one-liners during his eulogy for his friend, including: "He was a man of such great humility. Those who traveled the high road of humility in Washington D.C. are not bothered by heavy traffic."

 

As a senator, Simpson became known for his jokes and colorful phrasing. In a 2006 lecture, he explained why he thought humor was so important and how it could be a useful tool to deal with tragedy, friends and sometimes opponents.

 

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"Comedian Danny Kaye once said that all humor comes from pain," he explained. He said former Sen. Ted Kennedy's sense of humor helped him deal with the tragedies that struck his family.

 

"Imagine what his life would be like without laughter," he said of Kennedy, a close friend.

 

"I'm terrible when I lose my sense of humor," he said. As an example, he mentioned his testy questioning of Anita Hill at a hearing in 1991 about her sexual harassment accusations against Clarence Thomas during his Supreme Court nomination.

 

And Simpson explained that "humor can be used to throw off the opposition."

 

"People think if you have humor you're not serious," he said.

 

As his long friendship with Kennedy indicates, Simpson did not let political differences become personal and, a moderate on the issue of abortion rights, he rejected rigid political ideology. He said Bush was of the same mind.

 

"He often said when the really tough choices come, it’s the country, not me – it’s not about Democrats or Republicans, it’s for our country that I fought for," Simpson said.

 

Simpson told The Washington Post that Bush asked him to write his eulogy after Bush was hospitalized in 2012. Simpson said he made some notes and put off the assignment. When the time came, he said he reflected on their time together.

 

"You just delve in on the things that mean something to you deeply and personally, and try to keep it light," he told the Post.

 

"You cry while you’re preparing it," Simpson said, "so you won’t cry while you’re giving it."