Jody Powell’s feet

…political leanings….political learnings…

When Pat B was working in the White House

Helping to put out Jimmy Carter’s daily news compilation

Before computers…

About a thousand years ago…

She took me and the children

On a Sunday tour

It was quiet, and the Oval Office was empty

But then we walked down a long hallway

And an office door was half-opened

And we look inside

And a man with his feet up on his desk

Was leaning back in his chair and reading the newspaper

And Pat whispered, “We can’t bother him; that’s Jody Powell.”

And we tiptoed by

And when they could, the children said, their eyes wide open,

“Jody Powell!”

They were still young, but his name was big in 1980,

And they knew it.

Jody Powell!

They’d seen every tourist site in Washington,

And Mount Vernon, too.

But nothing mattered after they’d seen Jody Powell’s feet.

George and Martha couldn’t hold a candle to living history.

The children, their own children now grown,

Will never walk that hallway again,

And things will never be the same.

Jimmy’s gone and Jody, too.

Perhaps the children could take their children to visit Mount Vernon,

And imagine mythical cherry trees.