The Pocatello Community Charter School sits on nearly five acres where Arthur Street becomes Bannock Highway. The school’s back yard hosts the city’s first permitted residential wind turbine. In the spring of 2009, I led that project which led to my being in the same room with George W. Bush a year later. Okay, okay, it wasn’t just a room, it was an entire arena at the Dallas Convention Center, but I was still in the presence of our 43rd president.
The former dean of the charter school and I presented a poster at the 2010 national WINDPOWER conference. This annual event features everything wind power: turbine manufacturers, wind researchers, transmission authorities, legal experts, utility policy makers, and more.
Our little poster from Pocatello touted the school’s wind
turbine as both an educational tool and energy source. The size and location of this turbine yields,
at most, enough power for a teacher’s mini fridge or a bank of fluorescent
lights, but the greater value of the project came in the hands-on exposure for
students. Seeing first-hand how the irritatingly windy days of late can produce
energy is priceless.
Speaking of irritating winds, let me get back to the ex-politician
who was the keynote speaker at the conference. To say that I am not a fan of “Dubbya”
is an understatement. My disagreements with his politics run the gamut of education,
social issues, and international relations, but he was my president and I was
enthralled at the opportunity to see him. We don’t get these chances in Idaho that
often. I looked forward to the
experience itself and what my reaction would be.
He began his talk with something like, “One morning, I
looked in the mirror. I paused, and I couldn’t remember a day that I didn’t
have a drink.” He was never an eloquent man.
I couldn’t tell if he said “drink” or “dream.” I figured he said “dream” because that seemed
more appropriate and likely, but as he opened the blinds for a view into his humanness,
that opening remark became as clear as a snifter of sparkling water.
He mentioned his book that had just been released and then
as any good keynote speaker, he lauded the conference focus. President Bush cheered the progress of the
wind power industry and voiced support for tax incentives for clean energy
technologies. I liked what he was saying on the topic, but it was his humor
that stuck with me when he discussed his first few days out of the White House
and in his new home near Dallas.
He talked of getting to take his dog on a walk for the first
time. He never had time as president to do that. I used to tell my childhood
friends and teachers all the things I would do when I became the first woman
president, but after hearing that there was no time for dog walking, I’m
relieved I went into engineering rather than politics.
He talked of fumbling with the leash and figuring out which
side his mutt preferred to walk on. He talked of noting where the secret
service agents were and how they still surprised him at times. Then he delved into what happened when the
dog came to a halt and started “the sniff.”
George W. became slightly more human with every second he spoke.
He talked of the contrast of months before being in closed
rooms with dozens of advisors making decisions with too many effects to fully
estimate. And then not. He talked of the sun and the breeze and the stillness
while he was rummaging through his pockets for a post-presidential plastic
baggie and how everything was so crisp to him because it was so new.
The former president presented gestures to illustrate the
leash fumbling, the baggie retrieval and his stance as he squatted down to collect
the heap left by his furry friend. He
said clearly into the mic, “So there I was. The 43rd President of
the United States, holding in my hand that which I had spent the last 8 years
trying to deflect.” After that day, every single time I make my loop around Holt Arena with my dogs and one of them begins “the sniff,” I think about George W. Bush. The day he spoke to me became one of contrasts and appreciation. He juxtaposed the decision room and the suburban sidewalk while my mind considered the President with whom I still disagree and the man with whom I would enjoy sharing a drink. Sparkling water, of course.
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