ENGLISH SPEECH GEORGE W. BUSH Emotional Eulogy for His Father English Subtitles
I once heard it said of man that the idea
is to die young, as late as possible.
At age 85, a favorite pastime of George H.W.
Bush was firing up his boat, the Fidelity,
and opening up the three 300-horsepower engines
to fly — joyfully fly — across the Atlantic
with the Secret Service boats straining to
keep up.
At age 90, George H.W. Bush parachuted out
of an aircraft and landed on the grounds of
St. Ann’s by the Sea in Kennebunkport, Maine,
the church where his mom was married and where
he worshiped often.
Mother liked to say he chose the location
just in case the chute didn’t open.
After high school, he put college on hold
and became a Navy fighter pilot as World War
II broke out.
Like many of his generation, he never talked
about his service until his time as a public
figure forced his hand.
We learned of the attack on Chichi Jima, the
mission completed, the shoot-down.
We learned of the death of his crew mates,
whom he thought about throughout his entire
life.
And we learned of the rescue.
And then another audacious decision: He moved
his young family from the comforts of the
East Coast to Odessa, Texas.
He and Mom adjusted to their arid surroundings
quickly.
He was a tolerant man.
After all, he was kind and neighborly to the
women with whom he, Mom and I shared a bathroom
in our small duplex, even after he learned
their profession: ladies of the night.
Dad could relate to people from all walks
of life.
He was an empathetic man.
He valued character over pedigree.
And he was no cynic.
He looked for the good in each person, and
he usually found it.
Dad taught us that public service is noble
and necessary, that one can serve with integrity
and hold true to the important values like
faith and family.
He strongly believed that it was important
to give back to the community and country
in which one lived.
He recognized that serving others enriched
the giver’s soul.
To us, his was the brightest of the thousand
points of light.
In victory, he shared credit.
When he lost, he shouldered the blame.
He accepted that failure is a part of living
a full life but taught us never to be defined
by failure.
He showed us how setbacks can strengthen.
None of his disappointments could compare
with one of life’s greatest tragedies, the
loss of a young child.
Jeb and I were too young to remember the pain
and agony he and Mom felt when our 3-year-old
sister died.
We only learned later that Dad, a man of quiet
faith, prayed for her daily.
He was sustained by the love of the Almighty,
and the real and enduring love of our mom.
Dad always believed that one day he would
hug his precious Robin again.
He loved to laugh, especially at himself.
He could tease and needle, but never out of
malice.
He placed great value on a good joke.
That’s why he chose Simpson to speak.
On email, he had a circle of friends with
whom he shared or received the latest jokes.
His grading system for
the quality of the joke was classic George
Bush: The rare sevens and eights were considered
huge winners, most of them off-color.
George Bush knew how to be a true and loyal
friend.
He nurtured and honored many — his many
friendships — with a generous and giving
soul.
There exists thousands of handwritten notes
encouraging or sympathizing or thanking his
friends and acquaintances.
He had an enormous capacity to give of himself.
Many a person would tell you that Dad became
a mentor and a father figure in their life.
He listened and he consoled.
He was their friend.
I think of Don Rhodes, Taylor Blanton, Jim
Nantz, Arnold Schwarzenegger and, perhaps
the unlikeliest of all, the man who defeated
him, Bill Clinton.
My siblings and I refer to the guys in this
group as brothers from other mothers.
He taught us that a day was not meant to be
wasted.
He played golf at a legendary pace.
I always wondered why he insisted on speed
golf.
He was a good golfer.
Well, here’s my conclusion: He played fast
so that he could move on to the next event,
to enjoy the rest of the day, to expend his
enormous energy, to live it all.
He was born with just two settings: full throttle,
then sleep.
He taught us what it means to be a wonderful
father, grandfather and great grandfather.
He was firm in his principles, and supportive
as we began to seek our own ways.
He encouraged and comforted but never steered.
We tested his patience.
I know I did.
But he always responded with the great gift
of unconditional love.
Last Friday, when I was told he had minutes
to live, I called him.
The guy who answered the phone said, “He
— I think he can hear you, but he hasn’t
said anything for most of the day.”
I said, “Dad, I love you, and you’ve been
a wonderful father.”
And the last words he would ever say on Earth
were, “I love you, too.”
To us, he was close to perfect.
But not totally perfect.
His short game was lousy.
He wasn’t exactly Fred Astaire on the dance
floor.
The man couldn’t stomach vegetables, especially
broccoli.
And by the way, he passed these genetic defects
along to us.
Finally, every day of his 73 years of marriage,
Dad taught us all what it means to be a great
husband.
He
married his sweetheart.
He adored her.
He laughed and cried with her.
He was dedicated to her, totally.
In his old age, Dad enjoyed watching police
show reruns, the volume on high.
All the while, holding Mom’s hand.
After Mom died, Dad was strong, but all he
really wanted to do was hold Mom’s hand again.
Of course, Dad taught me another special lesson.
He showed me what it means to be a president
who serves with integrity, leads with courage
and acts with love in his heart for the citizens
of our country.
When the history books are written, they will
say that George H.W. Bush was a great president
of the United States, a diplomat of unmatched
skill, a commander in chief of formidable
accomplishment, and a gentleman who executed
the duties of his office with dignity and
honor.
In his inaugural address, the 41st president
of the United States said this: “We cannot
hope only to leave our children a bigger car,
a bigger bank account.
We must hope to give them a sense of what
it means to be a loyal friend, a loving parent,
a citizen who leaves his home, his neighborhood
and town better than he found it.
“What do we want the men and women who work
with us to say when we are no longer there?
That we were more driven to succeed than anyone
around us, or that we stopped to ask if a
sick child had gotten better, and stayed a
moment, there, to trade a word of friendship.”
Well, Dad, we’re going to remember you for
exactly that and much more.
And we’re going to miss you.
Your decency, sincerity and kind soul will
stay with us forever.
So through our tears, let us know the blessings
of knowing and loving you, a great and noble
man, the best
father a son or daughter could ask.
And in our grief, let us smile, knowing that
Dad is hugging Robin and holding Mom’s hand
again.