My Favorite President

On Monday morning and Bob and I were trying to figure out whether to carry the trash to the Collection Center on our way to the gym. Around here people say “carry” instead of take. As in “He carried me to Virlie’s for breakfast.” We usually take care of this chore on Fridays but had held off last week because of Christmas when the recycling centers are short-staffed and the bins get overloaded.

We were also thinking of Jimmy Carter because, just before Sunday dinner, we had learned of his death. “One hundred years old,” we said, “My my.” And, “Too bad we passed up that plate.” The last time we carried the trash, we nearly brought home a plate with President Carter’s face on it.

On that day, there had been two men standing next to the trash compactor when we walked over with our garbage. One, a taxpayer like us, had just handed a commemorative plate—the kind of thing you hang on the wall—to the attendant. “You need this plate,” said the attendent with a smile that revealed some missing teeth, and I took it from his outstretched hands to be polite. “It’s got all the presidents up until Carter,” he said. “Carter was my favorite president,” I said, but Bob and I both agreed that we couldn’t use it, and I handed it back.

I cast my first-ever presidential vote for Jimmy Carter in 1976 and was thrilled when he won because I believed his values resonated with mine. He proved me right during the four years of his presidency by choosing diplmomacy over violence, by installing solar panels on the White House, and by advising Americans to save energy by turning down the heat and wearing sweaters.

My mother was also pro-Carter. So much so, that she got on a bus full of Pennsylvania college students bound for Washington DC to witness his inauguration. She took notes and wrote it up for the Shippensburg University Slate. Thanks to her, I can almost taste the air from that day.

Here’s a sample from Inaugural Traveler Finds Hope for America :

It was 11 a.m. when the band struck up the first song, “Praise the Lord.” This triggered the young boys and girls to scramble into the trees. One girl looked ready to join them but her mother held fast to her pigtails.

A year or so later, on a drizzly May 3rd, 1978, Bob was lucky enough to meet President Carter. He and a friend had made a solar collector out of scavanged material, including beer cans for a class at the University of Colorado’s School of Environental Design. When Jimmy Carter saw the collector, he quipped that his brother would have approved (brother Billy famously loved beer!).

It made Bob happy to meet Jimmy Carter because he felt that Jimmy was what our country needed. Like me, Bob felt that their values aligned.

Sadly, Ronald Reagan won the next election and reversed direction. He had the solar panels removed from the White House, he slashed coroporate taxes, cut finding to the Solar Energy Research Institute (now NREL) where Bob hoped to someday work, and did away with energy credits. Bob’s undergrad in Environmental Conservation became nearly worthless, prompting him to pursue a business degree.

Ultimately, we decided to take our chances and carry the trash. After we emptied the trunk, we sauntered over to the Swap Shop for a look-see and some idle chit chat with the attendant. He pointed at the flag and said, “Someone asked me why I had it like that.” “At half mast?” I said and he nodded. “Because of Jimmy Carter?” I asked and he nodded. “Now I wish I’d have taken that plate.”

He got a strange look in his eyes and started walking towards his office. “Do you want it?” he asked over his shoulder. “Yes!” I said, following like a puppy. Turns out he decided to hang it in his office until he could find a proper home for it. He pulled it off the wall, handed it to me, and I gave him a gleeful squeeze.