I Am Not Barbara Bush

In 1990 Barbara Bush was the controversial graduation speaker at

Who doesn't love pearls and a baseball cap?

Wellesley; I had no idea. I was far too busy thinking about my own graduation from UVA--which of course says something about how in-tune (not at all) I was to the world around me, and possibly says something about, no absolutely says something about, who I was as a white, heterosexual, privileged woman graduating from a top-tier school. I can't change who I was, but I can think about it both in terms of then and now....

Since Mrs. Bush's death, I have been fascinated, and at first a bit horrified, about some of the conversations surrounding Mrs. Bush's life and in particular this famous graduation speech. I was reared with the saying "Never speak ill of the dead" and I'm pretty sure people should be throwing salt over their left shoulder in handfuls....

Anyway, I've taken a few days before writing to try to make sense of my emotions. (I call this progress in my self control growth.)

So here's the thing--prior to her death, or more accurately prior to Jenna Bush Hager talking about her on The Today Show, I thought very little about Mrs. Bush. I didn't vote for her husband or her son and might even have breathed a sigh of relief when the Bush empire seemed to come to a close. Listening to Jenna talk about her, led me to have warm feelings for her like I do my own grandmothers, but that was the extent of my thoughts. So I guess you could say, "I'm not nor do I pretend to be Barbara Bush."

But....

I do wear pearls, and not fake ones. I wear real pearls given to me on my 16th birthday by my grandmother whose first husband was abusive and second husband left her for many reasons-- a large one being her alcoholism. Until the last decade of her life Grandma Lila, once the belle of the ball, lived in a dark apartment above a store nursing her bitterness, but she taught me how to laugh at myself, how to sing at the top of my lungs no matter how badly I sing, and how to rise above that, and even in her last years after she moved to Georgia to be near us, how to be the life of the party, how to make new friends of all ages, and how to love her grandchildren--I'll get to practice that in the years to come. I wear those pearls daily and proudly. I wore them when we were newly weds and poor and I wear them now.

I didn't drop out of college to marry; in fact, I already had a college degree AND a masters degree when I got married, and for that I am grateful. BUT, I hadn't met the love of my life until my 20's, so who knows? (I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have dropped out...)

I didn't go to one of the Seven Sisters schools--probably couldn't have been admitted, but I did attend The University of Virginia as an out of state student who graduated with no debt because my parents paid for my tuition--a privilege I took for granted.

I wasn't involved in feminist movements during my college years possibly because I was raised by a man who always believed my sister and I could do anything we wanted and made sure we knew it, but more likely because I just didn't see it and probably because I was a tad self-involved and self centered. But I raised a daughter who I will hold up to any feminist. A daughter who is passionate, articulate, and not self-centered, who puts others before herself and takes causes head on, who recognizes injustice, and who believes in and fights while also recognizing her own place of privilege. (you know that no college debt thing...)

I didn't marry into an upper class dynasty, but I did choose to stay home with my children despite my expensive education, requiring much sacrifice, and I will never regret that decision. I also won't judge any person who made a different choice.

I didn't ride my husband's coattails to gain recognition, but I love being his wife, and I have always loved to receive letters addressed to Mrs. Christopher Robert Doyle. (I know some of you are rolling your eyes...) I also picked up and moved 5 times to follow his career because that is what WE chose to do.

I don't agree with my husband or with my children on everything. In fact there are some things we hold in complete opposition, but I will stand by them and possibly scratch anyone's eyeballs out who tries to assassinate their character.

I didn't, thank God, have to endure the death of a child, but we have had our own trials some of which would shred a marriage and send children scurrying to the farthest corners of the earth cutting
themselves off from me and one another, and instead our marriage and the children's relationships are stronger than ever.

I am pretty sure when I die there won't be news cameras and reporters chronicling my final days; I'm pretty sure you won't need a church that seats 1500, and I'm pretty sure no former president, first lady, or dignitary will be there, but I hope and believe my husband will be at my bedside (assuming I die first of course) and I hope my four children and grandchildren-to-be will share similar loving

tributes. I hope they will know that my faith guided me, comforted me, supported me, and strengthened me. I hope they will remember me as someone who tried to live her faith daily. I hope they will remember that I always put them first, I always had their backs, and that I love them with every fiber of my being. I hope they will walk hand in hand together loving and supporting each other--and based on their relationships right now, I have no doubt. I hope they will carry the good memories of me close to their hearts and be able to release the rest.

As I've read and re-read articles about Mrs. Bush, comments on face book, and listened to people talk, one comment stands out to me and I keep returning to it. It is thoughtful, powerful, graceful, and real.

Barbara Bush responded beautifully but why wouldn’t she? She wasn’t quelling an angry mob; she was entering a conversation that needed to happen and is STILL happening. Some of these articles suggest “and that was that, the day feminists accepted that privilege should be respected, too.” And that’s not the way it was at all. It was a beautiful day. Mrs. Bush and Mrs Gorbachev delivered great remarks. We received our diplomas. And we still question society’s strata.

I wasn't part of the conversation then, but I'm glad I am now. And if my grandchildren-to-be want to call me "Ganny," well I'll be just fine with that.