On one particular summer day, Henry needed some papers delivered to a location in Oklahoma City - probably a client, but I've periodically slept since then. After a few seconds of deep deliberation, the only actual non-familial member of the staff was selected to make said delivery. Stepping into my car, I drove out Mustang Road to the westbound on-ramp to Interstate 40.
Immediately, I realized, something was different.
Behind me on the highway - nothing.
Before me - six black and white cars. Five police cars drove side-by-side, spanning the lanes. Behind the five, another officer steered his car left and right, weaving to and fro to keep me from advancing. At every entrance ramp, more highway patrol cars or city police blocked traffic from entering the highway. How my car made the cut to trail behind the strange parade, I can't be sure.
Finding a radio station in the know, I finally realized what I had gotten myself into: I was driving Henry's important manila envelope behind Vice President George H. W. Bush's motorcade, headed to the Cowboy Hall of Fame for a quick presidential campaign stop.
Hey! I didn't have anything better to do, so I followed the six police cars, who were following the limousines and secret service cars, who were following more police cars (and who knows what else). Surely, the helicopter overhead wasn't keeping a suspicious eye on me!
I found a parking slot and left the manila envelope on the passenger seat.
I walked my almost 23-year-old frame into the museum.
I found a spot in the back, not knowing what to expect. I found a spot to listen to the platform of the presidential candidate. I found a spot just to the left of a tall, black-suited young man with an earpiece. I found a spot to stand beside a seriously-focused secret service agent.
And listen I did. The speech was a good one. I liked what I heard.
And when the man concluded, I think I even went out and delivered the paperwork.
Here was a man who would preside over the fall of the Berlin Wall and the conclusion of the Cold War. Here was a man who would lead our nation into a coalition of allies to defend Kuwait against Saddam Hussein and Iraq, a man whose popularity rose to high elevations before plunging just in time for a three-way fight for a re-election that just wasn't in the cards.
Thirty years later, and we remember George H. W. Bush. His resume does not only list POTUS, but also includes World War II aviator, baseball player, oil magnate, United Nations ambassador, and director of the CIA. Today, his body will be interred at his presidential library and museum in College Station, Texas.
May his family rest comfortably following their public and private periods of mourning.