“I can’t believe he can’t field questions from a group of 17-year-olds.” Dan was saying this to no one in particular as we were finding our seats in the Rose Garden.
“Relax,” said Mario. “The guy probably just doesn’t want any curveballs. It’d look even worse, because we’re 17-year-olds.”
“You’re just saying that ’cause you get to ask him a question.”
From nowhere I could ascertain, a disembodied voice announced, “Ladies and gentleman, the President of the United States.” And from that same nowhere “Hail to the Chief” started to play.
Someone opened a side door, and Ronald Reagan came striding into the garden. He sprung up the steps to the make-shift stage and stood behind the podium, which had been adorned with the Presidential Seal while we had our heads turned.
He welcomed us to the White House, made a speech I cannot even remember, then asked if any of us had questions for him. I was not a huge Reagan supporter (nor a huge detractor for that matter), but even the very little amount of pomp surrounding our visit impressed me, as I’m certain it’s designed to. I wondered if Dan had been equally impressed, and turned to ask him, when his hand popped into the air.
“I’m totally gonna throw him that curveball.”
Whether President Reagan thought Dan looked a little too eager, or whether he was just lucky that day, we’ll never know. He didn’t call on Dan. But he did call on Mario, who asked the question he was supposed to, in spirit if not in letter.
“So, yeah, Mr President, whaddya think of Mikhail Gorbachev? Is he like a good guy?”
I don’t remember the answer.
After the questions, Reagan stepped off the stage and mingled with the crowd for a few minutes, shaking hands and posing for pictures. Before walking back inside, he pointed and waved at some windows in the residence. Nancy Reagan was standing in one of them, waving back. She stopped for a moment, bent over out of our view, and when she reappeared, she was holding their dog, Rex. She waved his paw at us.
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