In March, President Bush interrupted his Easter vacation and flew from Crawford, Texas to Washington D.C. at 1:11 a.m. to sign a bill on behalf of one woman: Terry Schiavo.
I won’t belabor or revisit that decision beyond the obvious fact that Bush likes a good photo-op.
On Tuesday, as Americans were being bombarded by either the reality or the images of hurricane Katrina’s devastation – massive flooding, people stranded on rooftops, bodies floating in flood waters, widespread looting – Bush boarded another plane for another photo-op, not to Louisiana, not even to Washington, but to California.
This photo wasn’t of a sleepy-eyed Bush deplaning Air Force One, racing to move Heaven and Earth to save a woman in a persistent vegetative state.
Instead, this one featured a giggly, well-tanned and rested vacationer, sharing a slice of birthday cake with Senator John McCain and strumming a guitar presented to him by country singer Mark Wills.
If the phrases “Let them eat cake” and “Nero fiddled as Rome burned” don’t come to mind, they should.
President Bush might as well have been a million miles away from the Gulf Coast, the epicenter of Katrina’s destruction.
As the woefully understaffed National Guard units plucked people from their roofs and policemen worked round the clock to curtail looting, Bush toured California touting his Medicare drug plan, and drawing untenable comparisons between World War II and the war in Iraq.
The differences between WWII and Iraq, between FDR and Dubya, are so great that any attempt to connect the two would be laughable – if it weren’t so offensive.
One difference, however, is worth noting: sacrifice.
During WWII, every American was asked to sacrifice, and they did. Rubber, gasoline, sugar and flour were all rationed during WWII, as were meat and butter. Women gave up nylon stockings and went to work in factories, making everything from bullets to ships.
More importantly, President Roosevelt sacrificed his entire domestic agenda for the war effort, redirecting American resources and manpower away from bridges and dams toward planes, ships, ammunition, uniforms, rations and other needed supplies.
Over two years into the Iraq debacle, soldiers still don’t have adequate body armor or armored vehicles, yet Halliburton continues to bill the Pentagon of billions of dollars in non-bid contracts, boasting a record 284 percent increase in profits during the second quarter of 2005.
It is impossible to know how much of that money will find its way back into the pockets of Bush, Cheney, et al. Considering Cheney still holds stock options comprising 433,333 shares of Halliburton stock, a first-grader could draw the line between the conflict of interest between Halliburton’s war profiteering and the vice-president’s future windfall.
We can only imagine what riches the future holds for President Bush. One thing is for sure, come 2008, the Crawford ranch that Dubya loves so much (which he bought in 2000 to create his cowboy image) will be put up for sale.
Speaking of Crawford, unless you were living in a cave in Afghanistan this summer you probably heard about Cindy Sheehan. She’s the mother of an American soldier slain in Iraq and has spent the summer camped outside Bush’s Crawford ranch. Her mission? To ask the president what the “noble cause” was for which her son supposedly died.
Bush, never one to be inconvenienced, found time during his five-week Crawford vacation to do a little bit of everything – cut brush, ride bikes with Lance Armstrong, attend a Republican fundraiser at a neighboring ranch, go to Church – except walk outside to talk to an aggrieved mother.
He even invited the White House press corps into the ranch for a barbeque. How easy would it have been to set another plate, put another burger on the barbeque for Ms.. Sheehan!
Instead of meeting with her (which 52 percent of Americans believe he should have done) Bush called a press conference to explain why he wouldn’t, giving Americans perhaps the best glimpse yet into the pathology of the most disconnected president in American history: “I think it’s important for me to go on with my life, to keep a balanced life.”
For most of us, a balanced life means spending a week, maybe two, in a hotel adjacent to an amusement park. For the most vacationed president in history, it means spending one year of a four-and-a-half year presidency in Crawford watching the world go by.
Call it what you want, but sacrifice it’s not.
A final note: Many of you probably remember my columns from last year. Never fear, I have not been asked, nor do I plan to write another column this semester. Based on what I have read so far, however, the Op-Ed page is off to a good start. It’s your paper (not to mention your future), so keep the meaningful commentary coming.
George Henson is a lecturer of Spanish. He may be contacted at [email protected].
