Finally, I have something to post. Ha! My first one.
I bet none of the other posters have had a multi decade correspondence with RN. I have. One letter is entirely handwritten.
When I was a 13 yr old boy in Milwaukee WI, I was standing in line to shake RN's hand, and was getting close. He had been nominated by the Repubs and was throwing a thank you dinner for masses of campaign workers. (Average spaghetti in a giant room with those portable trestle tables like in high school) I had stuffed fliers in newspaper boxes out the right hand car window as my mother drove the car past mailboxes.
Bored, mute and watchful as a 13 year old can be, I noticed Pat Nixon was turning white(er) and was about to faint. I darted out of the line, skimmed up on the portable stage and flashed in between the secret service detail with the unconscious alacrity of the child. Still moving, I had to hurry, I scooted an already opened folding chair under her and instead of falling to the floor, she got a controlled crumple into the chair. Through this whole event I never said a word.
Remember how a child on the move simply weaves between adults without looking up to their full height? The secret service guys I barely noticed, they were like trees.
One secret service guy laid a hand on me, but not a hard hand. I think he was just making sure I didn't use my super speed and blur past him again. And another agent brought Pat a paper cup of water, I remember that. Pat waved them off me and as her color returned, she murmured her thanks.
I was stock still now, and i was mute, and looking at her face, watching the color return to her face, almost clinically. She was now sitting, and I was still small for my age, our faces were very close. After a couple of heartbeats she took my face in her hands and kissed me solidly on the face, kind of on the lips.
Still mute, but my job done, I turned, hopped down, retook my place in line, and waited my turn to shake hands. When I did get to shake hands, the Nixons were a little extra warm with me and Pat winked at this grave, small, dark haired boy.
Click.., its 1980 or 81, now I'm 26 and broke. I'm half flunking out of grad school in Columbia SC, studying comparative anatomy both in the science lab and in my spare time, and testing the effects of pot on the dissolute summer student. Seeking amusement on a budget of three dollars, i see a used copy of "No more Vietnams" in a bookstore window with a magic $2.95 price tag. I buy and read it. A champion reader by now, i read it swiftly, and while Nixon had a lot to say, I felt his style was a bit flat, and that he needed to know.
Savvy enough to know that you have to write something short and snappy to get past the assistants, and wanting to teach some style by example, I began my first (typed of course) letter to Nixon with this hook:
"Dear Mr. Nixon,
You don't know me but I once kissed your wife."
Then I talk about the book and give him a stylistic hint or two. Then i close with the incident above. The whole letter is only a page with a decent amount of white space.
Well, he wrote me back from his old New Jersey address, and penned a note at the bottom saying that he remembered the incident. I wrote him a few more times over many years and each time I got a reply. The last time I wrote him was after Pat died, and I had the feeling he thought I was his old SAC general who is a distant uncle and has exactly the same name as me. Its a Welsh name. SAC is strategic air command for you young people.
Well, i always had sympathy for Nixon, as I felt he was a person who was a little emotionally stunted, as was I. Am I know the struggle those with a limited emotional repertoire have to become whole, broad people, if they choose to try to be more...whole.
I felt that was what Pat saw in my face. Maybe it explains in part, her love for RN. And the body of my Richard Nixon correspondence, while not very personal, does have an odd tone of mutual sympathy.
How's that for a little story? hope it was worth your read.
