Washington National Cathedral, Washington, D.C.
Wednesday, December 5, 2018
Honored guests, including Presidents and First Ladies, government officials, foreign dignitaries, and friends: Jeb, Neil, Marvin, Doro, and I, along with our families, express our gratitude for your presence today.
I once heard someone say, “The idea is to die young as late as possible.” (Laughter.)
At the age of 85, one of George H. W. Bush’s favorite activities was to start up his boat, the Fidelity, and unleash the power of its three 300-horsepower engines to joyfully race across the Atlantic, with Secret Service boats struggling to keep pace.
At 90, George H. W. Bush made a memorable parachute jump from an aircraft, landing on the grounds of St. Ann’s by the Sea in Kennebunkport, Maine – the church where his mother was wed and where he often attended services. His mother liked to say he chose that spot just in case the parachute didn’t open. (Laughter.)
Even into his 90s, he found great joy when his dear friend, James A. Baker, sneaked a bottle of Grey Goose vodka into his hospital room. It was said to complement the steak Baker brought from Morton’s. (Laughter.)
Right until his final days, Dad’s life served as a guide for us. In his old age, he demonstrated how to embrace aging with dignity, humor, and kindness – and when it was time to meet the Good Lord, how to do so with courage and joy in the hopeful promise of what lies ahead.
One reason Dad understood how to “die young” is that he had brushed with death – twice. As a teenager, he nearly succumbed to a staph infection. A few years later, he found himself alone on a life raft in the Pacific, praying to be rescued before the enemy could find him.
God answered those prayers. It turned out He had other plans for George H.W. Bush. I believe those near-death experiences made him appreciate life more deeply. He committed to living every day to the fullest.
Dad was always active – a man in perpetual motion – yet never too busy to express his love for life to those around him. He taught us to cherish the outdoors. He found joy in watching dogs flush a covey. He relished the thrill of reeling in the elusive striper. And even when confined to a wheelchair, he radiated happiness sitting in his favorite spot on the back porch at Walker’s Point, gazing at the breathtaking Atlantic. The horizons he viewed were bright and full of hope. He was inherently optimistic, and that optimism inspired his children, leading each of us to believe that anything was achievable.
He consistently broadened his horizons with bold decisions. He was a true patriot. After graduating high school, he postponed college to serve as a Navy fighter pilot as World War II erupted. Like many of his peers, he rarely spoke of his military experience until public life necessitated it. We learned of the attack on Chichi Jima, his completed mission, the shoot-down, and the loss of his crewmates, whom he remembered throughout his entire life. We also learned about his dramatic rescue.
Then came yet another daring decision; he relocated his young family from the comforts of the East Coast to Odessa, Texas. He and Mom adapted quickly to their new, arid environment. He was an accepting man. He remained friendly and neighborly towards the women with whom he and Mom shared a bathroom in their small duplex, even after discovering their profession – ladies of the evening. (Laughter.)
Dad connected with people from all walks of life. He was empathetic, valuing character over social status. He was no cynic; he looked for the good in everyone – and usually found it.
Dad taught us that public service is a noble and essential calling; that one can serve with integrity while holding onto important values like faith and family. He firmly believed in giving back to the community and country in which one resides. He understood that serving others enriches the giver’s spirit. To us, his light shone brightly among the many points of light.
In success, he shared credit; in failure, he took responsibility. He accepted that failure is part of living a meaningful life, teaching us that we should never be defined by our setbacks. He showed us that challenges can lead to strength.
None of his disappointments could eclipse one of life’s greatest sorrows: the loss of a young child. Jeb and I were too young to remember the grief and anguish he and Mom experienced when our three-year-old sister passed away. It was only later that we learned that Dad, a man of quiet faith, prayed for her daily. Sustained by love from the Almighty and the enduring devotion of our mom, Dad always believed that one day he would embrace his beloved Robin again.
He loved to laugh, especially at himself. He could be playful and teasing, but never with malice. He treasured a good joke, which is why he chose Simpson to speak today. (Laughter.) Through email, he maintained a circle of friends with whom he exchanged the latest jokes. His grading scale for humor was quintessentially George Bush; rarities scoring 7s and 8s were considered major wins – most of which were a bit risqué. (Laughter.)
George Bush understood what it meant to be a true and loyal friend. He nurtured and honored his many friendships with his generous spirit. There are thousands of handwritten notes from him, offering encouragement, sympathy, or thanks to friends and acquaintances.
He had an immense capacity to give of himself. Countless individuals would tell you that Dad became a mentor and father figure in their lives. He listened, consoled, and was their friend. I think of Don Rhodes, Taylor Blanton, Jim Nantz, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and perhaps the most unexpected of all, the man who defeated him, Bill Clinton. My siblings and I refer to this group as “brothers from other mothers.” (Laughter.)
He instilled in us that each day should not be wasted. He played golf at an exhilarating pace. I often wondered why he insisted on speed golf, considering he was a good golfer.
So here’s my conclusion: he played quickly so he could quickly move on to the next event, to savor the rest of the day, to expend his abundant energy, and to fully embrace life. He operated with just two speeds: full throttle and sleep. (Laughter.)
He exemplified what it means to be a wonderful father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. He stood firm in his principles while being supportive as we sought our paths. He encouraged and comforted us, but never pushed us in a particular direction. We tested his patience – I know I did (laughter) – but he always responded with the invaluable gift of unconditional love.
Last Friday, when I learned that he had only minutes to live, I called him. The person who answered said, “I think he can hear you, but he hasn’t spoken much today.” I said, “Dad, I love you, and you’ve been a wonderful father.” And the final words he spoke on this earth were, “I love you, too.”
To us, he was nearly perfect. But not entirely perfect. His short game was terrible. (Laughter.) He wasn’t exactly Fred Astaire on the dance floor. (Laughter.) He had a particular aversion to vegetables, especially broccoli. (Laughter.) And by the way, he passed those genetic quirks onto us. (Laughter.)
Above all, every day of his 73 years of marriage, Dad showed us what it means to be a great husband. He married his true love. He adored her. He shared laughter and tears with her. He was entirely devoted to her.
In his later years, Dad enjoyed watching reruns of police shows, with the volume turned up high (laughter), all while holding Mom’s hand. After Mom passed away, Dad remained strong, but deep down, all he truly wanted was to hold Mom’s hand again.
Of course, Dad imparted another special lesson. He demonstrated what it means to be a President who serves with integrity, leads with courage, and acts with love for the citizens of our country. When historians write the books, they will note that George H.W. Bush was a great President of the United States – a diplomat of unparalleled skill, a Commander in Chief of significant accomplishment, and a gentleman who carried out the responsibilities of his office with dignity and honor.
In his Inaugural Address, the 41st President of the United States stated: “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 improved, and paused a moment to share a word of friendship?”
Well, Dad – we will remember you for exactly that, and so much more.
And we will miss you. Your decency, sincerity, and kind spirit will remain with us forever. So, amid our tears, let us focus on the blessings of having known and loved you – a great and noble man, and the best father a son or daughter could ever wish for.
And in our sorrow, let us smile at the thought that Dad is now embracing Robin and holding Mom’s hand once more.
