A Gallant Try

The recent news of Tareq and Michaele Salahi, the Virginia socialites who crashed the state dinner President Obama had with Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, reminded me of a near encounter Lois and I once had.

Back during the administration of Bush Sr., my wife, Lois, and I visited our friends, Julio and Margarite in Connecticut. We all stayed in their cottage near Aspen, Vermont. We were vacationing, but they had to go back to work. Shameful!

We continued on our way with a little sightseeing to New Hampshire's White Mountains. From there we went into the southern part of New Hampshire neat a stretch where Maine runs along the border for quite a ways.

We found ourselves at a woopsy-doodle of a country fair. It had things we'd never seen or done before. So there we were, two middle-aged people, having a bongo of a time! A man we were talking to asked, “Have you been over to see Kennebunkport?” I said, “Kennebunkport? You mean Bush's...?” He said, “Yeah.” “No. Where is it?” He said, “Not too far. Probably about sixteen miles. It's an interesting coastline there.” It wasn't out of our way so we decided we'd go over there and take a look.

Before long we were in Maine. The route came down along the coast to a nameless little town that we could see had been well cared for. It wasn't too big, and was all painted up nicely. The people lived in cute, little houses and there seemed to be many folks of retirement age. The townspeople had built their homes pretty close to the ocean and had the main road running more inland.

Lois and I stopped to grab a bite to eat. Our server said we should drive up past Walker's Point. It's just a little street but there are no restrictions there. So we set out. It was only four blocks until we were looking at the Pacific Ocean from a little inlet. All at once we realized where we were - in Kennebunkport!

From where we stood we saw, out on a rocky point, a rather sizable home, enough for a big family. The rocky point wasn't too high, but it was sure rocky! I imagined that when the ocean got angry the residents could probably feel the ocean spray on their faces. There was a lagoon in the bay between the house and the road, and another property we couldn't get to. We walked back and forth taking pictures. Lois went one way and I went the other.

All at once she came hustling back, “Bob! Barbara just waved to me! She was out on a portico looking at the ocean when she saw me and waved! I waved back! She was with someone, and when they turned to go back in she waved to me again, so I know she was waving to me!” I said, “Wow! Let's see if we have any luck getting into their place for a visit. Maybe they'd be willing.”

At the Bush's gate were several young, stern-faced guards. I explained we were out on a sashay, knew George and Barbara but had never visited their home. We wondered if they would notifiy them we're here and ask if they have time to see us for just a short time so we could say, “Howdy.” The guard said “ What makes you think you could do that?” I answered him, “Because I'm a member of the Republican National Committeee. I've been a solid member for some time. And my wife's two favorite people in politics today are Ronald Reagan and Barbara Bush.” The guard laughed, “I don't think you've got a chance, but I'll try. Follow me.” We had to walk behind and to the right of them. We passed through an inner-gate where two women in uniform were stationed.

I got out my RNC card and some other forms of identification. They asked if we had an appointment. I said, “No, we're vacationing here. We live in California and don't know when we'll be back. We'd like to say Hi.” One of them said, “These folks are home and they have family and guests here too. It's not open to the public except by invitation or special permission.”

Like a squeaky wheel I continued trying to persuade them, “I think they'd at least acknowledge us.” They finally called into the house. I don't know if they reached either of the Bush's or if they talked to someone who was an employee. I overheard the guard say, “We have a middle-aged couple at the gate whose names are Lois and Robert Mathias. They claim they're of your party, in good faith, are traveling from California and would like permission to say hello and just spend a few minutes with you.” The voice on the other end of the phone said, “Well, this is not possible now. Mrs. Bush is babysitting three of her grandchildren. Mr. Bush is in a boat out on the bay. The only other person here is the cook. Barbara prefers to do the cooking herself, but when she babysits she lets the cook do the cooking. I don't think I want to take care of the kids, so just a moment.”

The guard on the gate said, “If George were there, and they weren't doing anything except sitting in their chairs, you never know, they might've said “Check them out, make sure they don't have a gun on them, then let them come in. We'll talk to them and they can tell us about California.” After all my efforts to talk my way into the Bush home in Kennebunkport I came so close, but in the end I was thwarted!

Nevertheless, it was a beautiful day, so we enjoyed the scenery. Lois swears to this day Mrs. Bush waved to her twice and that if Barbara had actually gotten the message she would've said, “Tell Lois to come on in!”