The two screech owls we had brought with us seemed overwhelmed with excitement, calling back and forth to each other while bouncing around the inside of the travel kennel sitting next to me. We were on the 1,500-mile road trip from St. Petersburg to Maine: a long drive (22 hours, to be exact), made longer by an impending sense of anticipation that became harder and harder to ignore with each state line we crossed. I suspected my own restlessness was for different reasons than that of my feathered friends, Ricky and Lucy. Little did our avian travel companions know, they, I, and my fellow raptor handlers Patrick and Telia were all on our way to the home of President George H.W. Bush and former first lady Barbara Bush.
We had been invited to Maine to promote the release of “Vets and Pets,” a book written by philanthropist Dava Guerin about the ways that animals help veterans heal. One chapter was about Patrick himself, sharing his life story as a Vietnam veteran and detailing the events leading up to he and I co-founding Avian Veteran Alliance, a program providing veterans the opportunity to work firsthand with birds of prey. Barbara Bush, both as an advocate for literacy and for organizations that support veterans, had written the foreword for “Vets and Pets.” She had then graciously extended an invitation to all those involved with the project to come visit her and President Bush at their estate. So, of course we were going! Screech owls and all.
The ride gave me plenty of time to reflect on how I got to this place, and this opportunity. There I was, a USF graduate student unsure about my foreseeable future, about to meet two of the most influential figures in the history of the United States. On the one hand, I was full of nervous excitement, smoothing out my dress for the hundredth time that morning, while rehearsing what I had planned on saying to the iconic couple (as if there was something I could say that they hadn’t heard countless times before). On the other hand, I had to laugh at the peculiar circumstances under which we would meet, me standing there with all 6 fluffy ounces of Lucy on my hand, wedged between Willie the service pig, and Timber, a young service golden retriever. The brief recognition of the silliness of the scene acted as an instant pressure-release valve for me. It was only in that temporary suspension of worry and self-doubt, the brief pause to appreciate the humor in such an expectedly serious situation, that I came to understand the personal significance of what was about to happen. Thinking to myself “WWBBD: What Would Barbara Bush Do?” I decided to abandon the contrived list of acknowledgements I had worked so hard to remember. Although I didn’t realize it at the time, this would be the first of three important lessons I learned that day from Barbara Bush.
Lesson No. 1: Take time to appreciate the humor in life
My decision to relinquish control of the inevitable, as I believed Mrs. Bush would have advised, had opened my eyes to the humorous juxtaposition of carefully planned ensembles and no-nonsense attitudes among the humans present, versus the reality of a mishmash of tangled leashes, wagging tails, and delayed acknowledgement of many requests to “please calm down” on the animals’ part. As any pet owner knows, even the best-trained animals can, at times, be unpredictable. And of course, this of all days, Ricky would choose to be unpredictable all down President Bush’s pant leg. I would have been mortified, but our hostess just laughed and took it in stride.
“Well, at least the owl got him and not me! Ha!” Then she dismissed the gaffe with a wave of her hand, noting that “He’s got plenty of pants”. It was an important reminder that life is too messy to not have a sense of humor, and I will never forget how Barbara Bush personified that lesson that day.
Lesson No. 2: Be bold, ladies
Mrs. Bush, unprompted and without uttering a word, simply put out her hand when it was my turn to introduce her to Lucy, a young screech owl. As if to say “I want to hold it,” she was fearless. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised: here was a lady who had co-led a nation. Yet I was struck by her tenacity and unhindered resolve in the flesh to jump right into the experience. Mrs. Bush was clearly a woman who knew what she wanted, as became evident in her response to my suggestion that she use a leather glove to avoid being pinched by Lucy’s sharp talons. “No, I don’t want one” she said, “A little prick won’t kill me. Just put her on my hand.” So, I did.
That’s the moment I got to see for myself the same unapologetic confidence that had made Barbara Bush one of America’s most beloved first ladies. In this #MeToo moment, as activism rekindles and women everywhere reach for the courage to use their voice, she remains a universal inspiration to us. And, since that day, to me personally.
Lesson No. 3: Beauty begins with giving
I had always admired Mrs. Bush’s unapologetic “no frills” attitude when it came to her appearance – she believed there more important matters to attend to, and she was right. Yet, as she was sitting with her husband, though he was a former U.S. president, I couldn’t help but notice that all eyes were riveted on this woman, Mrs. Bush, and her iconic faux pearls. She had a commanding presence, though softened by a certain timeless elegance and grace – the embodiment of a true matriarch.
Her poise was evident in the way she deliberately shook the hand of each member of our group, taking her time to make the gesture meaningful with a few thoughtful questions or compliments. Only once she had finished did I notice the oxygen tank sitting next to her. The implications of that medical device humbled me where I stood. That tank underscored her selflessness in bringing our chaotic crew into her home. Because the truth was that Barbara Bush had invited us to share her time despite her largely unreported struggle with COPD and congestive heart failure. It was an unnecessary and tiring effort she had made voluntarily, for no other reason but to say “Thank you”. To me, this rare and authentic generosity was the font of her true beauty.
Thank you, Mrs. Bush, for the chance to learn all these lessons firsthand: for reminding us all to speak our truth, give freely, and laugh just a little bit more at everything life throws at us. You will be missed.