I’d rather write this now than have it be an inevitable R.I.P. retrospective.
I was among the millions who saw that Jimmy Carter press conference where he informed the public of the melanoma cancer that had spread to his brain. He did it with candor, humor and class. He felt, he said, “perfectly at ease with whatever comes.” He embodied those words.
Carter, 90, was brutally honest when asked if he had any regrets. “I should have sent more helicopters,” was his response in reference to the failed, hostage-saving mission to Iran. He also said getting going on the Carter Center was more important than a second term. That also resonated with credibility. It was vintage Carter, the straightforward, political-agenda free, post-presidential Carter we’ve come to know.
And how ironic–and unfortunate–that we never really knew him as President Carter.
He was associated with economically blindsiding “stagflation” as well as the Iranian hostage crisis. He was seen as the consummate micro-manager given to misreading a bigger picture. He handled a church pulpit better than the political, bully one. His humility, a trait sadly lacking in too many contemporary politicians, sometimes passed for weakness or naiveté. And he could be righteous.
In fact, Anatoly Dobrynin, the Russian ambassador to the U.S. from John Kennedy to Ronald Reagan, noted in his book, “In Confidence,” that Carter was the least likeable of the bunch. And that, of course, included Richard Nixon. The reason: Carter’s “moralizing approach.” For a man from Plains, he could be complicated to read.
But as we know, Carter leveraged his post-presidency like no other ex-president. He didn’t have to run anything by Zbig Brzezinski. He didn’t have America’s complex over Vietnam or Watergate to address. Brother Billy and Bert Lance were long gone. There were no more elections. His priorities and his moral compass were in sync and in play, whether overseeing an election in Latin America or helping eradicate guinea worm disease in Africa.
Personally, I was fortunate to have spent some time–albeit, not much–with former President Carter. I helped out with Habitat for Humanity–writing for their international magazine and working on HfH Jimmy Carter Projects in Americus, Ga., and Houston.
I remember the wrap-up of the project in Americus, Habitat’s hometown.
After a home is finished, there is a dedication ceremony. It includes a few passages from the Bible. Workers, sponsors, and new sweat-equity owners gather ’round.
In this case, the president had come over from nearby Plains to help out. (He is a seriously talented carpenter.) But he was late to the ceremony. As it turned out, he was actually in the house next door, one that was awaiting final-detail, landscape touches.
While we all waited for the president, there came this unmistakable, rural Georgia-accented directive from inside the house next door. “Move that more to the right, please; no, your right. Good. Now straight down. Perfect. Thank you.” It was Jimmy Carter. He had been inspecting the inside when he caught sight of that last magnolia being planted on the front lawn, and he wanted to help out. Always working. Making things better.
But I couldn’t help thinking: Still micromanaging.
One other occurrence is also illustrative.
It was during a lunch break in Houston. Meals were provided in the cafeteria of a nearby junior high school. We all trudged in, looking like an American mosaic: young and old, male and female, black and white, skilled and unskilled, upper and middle class, plus a former president and two Secret Service agents.
And there he was. Jimmy Carter in the middle of a queue, pushing a plastic tray heading for the cole slaw, french fries and fried chicken entree. “Extra ketchup for those fries, Mr. President?
“Next.”
A literal man of the people, to be sure.
I had seen the likes of Newt Gingrich do photo-op drive-bys with Habitat because, well, there’s nobody who doesn’t want to be associated with such a feel-good, sweat-equity organization. Self-help and community-help know no political favorites. But Jimmy Carter did it for all the right reasons. It’s what needs doing. And it’s who he is.
People needed help and he was in a position to do something about it–with his woodworking skills and with his name-recognition drawing power. We’ll not see his kind again.
No surprise that his final chapter is an inspiring mortality model for living–as well as dying.