Barbara Bush: First a mom, then first lady

There are so many ways to honor the life of Barbara Bush, wife of President George H.W. Bush. As a historian, I can note that she was the only woman other than Abigail Adams, wife of President John Adams, to be the wife of a chief executive of the United States as well as the mother of one — in her case, President George W. Bush. And she was not only a first lady but served two terms as second lady to her vice-president husband. As for longevity, Mrs. Bush ranks as one of a handful of record-breaking first ladies, reaching nearly 93 years.

But, from a personal point of view, I have to honor Mrs. Bush, first and foremost, as a mother. Recall that in the 19th century the wives of presidents had many children, but after President Franklin D. Roosevelt, whose wife, Eleanor, bore six children, White House families have been conspicuous for illustrating few offspring — except for Mrs. Bush, who gave birth to six children.

It’s not that having a halfdozen kids immortalizes a woman — although it should, given the enormous, 24-hour care necessary for each child — but it is a marvel that she could raise them amid all the tempests of a husband whose ambitions and accomplishments made for a lengthy resume in Washington officialdom. In short, George H.W. Bush spent most of his life in elected or appointed government service.

To be sure, there was sorrow in the Bush family, as in the death of daughter Robin from leukemia in 1953 and issues affecting son Neil, relating to dyslexia, but motherhood remained the critical focus of Mrs. Bush throughout her life, leading to activities dealing with youngsters, no matter her own health issues. No activity was more important to her than the Barbara Bush Foundation for Family Literacy.

My personal recollection of Mrs. Bush occurred in 1992, the last year of her husband’s difficult White House tenure, as a result of an exhausting and unsuccessful campaign that brought victory to Democrat Bill Clinton. During that year, my son, Tom, worked for ABC radio news in Washington, D.C. And, among numerous other assignments, he participated in devising radio programs that dealt with keeping youngsters safe, especially from accidental injury, the leading cause of death for children under age 14. Much to his delight and that of my late wife, Mallie, and me, Tom won a commendation from the National Safe Kids Campaign, the award for which would be given at a luncheon ceremony in the prestigious Mayflower Hotel in D.C.

And who would present the award to Tom?

None other than first lady Barbara Bush.

Of course, Tom was no child at the time (he was 29) and out on his own, but his doting parents insisted that he buy a new suit for the occasion because not only would we be attending the ceremony but high-ranking officialdom and journalists as well. Still, Mallie and I had a nagging feeling that fashion was not the better part of Tom’s personality. In fact, we dubbed his dress style “contemporary austere.” As a radio journalist, Tom also knew that nobody sees you, and the proof of the program is the text and the manner in which it is presented.

But Tom’s best friend accompanied Tom on his shopping spree for a new suit and perhaps, we thought, the outcome would be satisfactory.

To be sure, there were a lot of preliminaries to the award presentation, and Mallie and I never saw Tom in his new outfit until finally lunch was over, with Mrs. Bush on stage ready to have Tom, behind-the-scenes, come up and receive his award.

When that happened, Mallie and I gasped.

Tom’s new suit was, to me, reminiscent of the zoot suits of the 1940s, oversized, with wide lapels and heavily padded shoulders. Nor did the color — some sort of beige — please the eye. And the tie — that’s a whole different story to tell. And Tom’s on-stilts-strut reminded Mallie of Lurch, the tall, macabre but humorous figure on the “Addams Family” TV series from 1964 to 1966.

No matter. Tom received his award, and immediately thereafter photographers rushed to take a picture of Mrs. Bush and the awardee. The first lady, however, put up her hands, shooing off the cameras. Then she proceeded to straighten Tom’s tie, shirt and suit jacket so as to make him look presentable. Giving the OK sign to photographers, she ensured that the pictorial was a good one.

As I said, first a mother, then first lady.

I think that’s how Mrs. Bush would want to be remembered.