Visiting Washington, D.C. for the holidays, I have become acutely aware that the year to come will consist almost completely of political fol-de-rol.
That may be why, whenever I try to compile a list of what I’d like to take with me into 2016, it always boils down to one thing (aside from family, of course, mustn’t forget them): A sense of humor.
Just think how different our history might have been, for example, if our 37th president, Richard Nixon had had a better sense of humor.
CBS News Correspondent Bob Schieffer tells a story that points that up.
The veteran correspondent and 23-year host of CBS’ “Face The Nation” says, “I’ve interviewed all the presidents from Nixon on. The Nixon interview is my favorite even though it wasn’t on camera.”
Schieffer was in the White House for an event in the East Room when he found himself in line to shake the President’s hand.
There was gossip, at the time, that Nixon was about to shake up his staff by appointing new advisors, but nobody seemed to know if they would be from inside the government or outside.
“When I got to the president, I blurted out, ‘Mr. President, these new advisors, will they be in-house advisors?’
‘Oh, no,’ he replied, ‘they will be out-house advisors.’
Then realizing what he had said he blanched, turned, and walked away. Of all the interviews I’ve ever done, that’s one answer I will never forget.”
If only Nixon had been the kind of man who could say, “Oops! But don’t tell them I said that, we’ve promised them desks,” I believe the course of American history could have been substantially different.
Then again, if British shipping magnate Frederick Richards Leyland had had a better sense of humor, then I might never have seen James McNeill’s Whistler’s famous “Peacock Room.”
The room is a central masterpiece in the Smithsonian’s Freer Gallery, and possibly my favorite spot in the entire Smithsonian system.
It happened after Leyland had authorized Whistler to make just a few small touch-ups to the almost-finished dining room of his London town house. Then Leyland split for Liverpool.
Upon Leyland’s return, he discovered that Whistler had painted over virtually every surface in the room, turning the entire thing into one huge peacock-blue-and-gold-leaf box.
The magnate was furious.
This was not what he had wanted, ordered, or expected. The result was a bitter quarrel which lasted the rest of Leyland’s life.
He refused to pay Whistler, who ended up filing for bankruptcy and writing about the experience in a book he titled, “The Gentle Art of Making Enemies.”
Whistler supposedly said, to Leyland, “My work will live when you are forgotten.” As indeed it has.
“Imagine being pissed off that your artist turned your entire dining room into a genius work of art,” I said to my family. “I would certainly be better than that, myself.”
“Oh, really?” said my husband. “What would you have said?”
“I would say, ‘This is clearly a work of staggering genius. Thank you so much.’ And let that be a lesson to you,” I said, turning to our younger son in the backseat. “It doesn’t pay to be a humorless control freak – Hey, I said turn here!” I yelled at my husband. “What were you thinking?”
“I just wanted to show our son the Bethesda Naval Hospital,” said my husband. “We aren’t here very often.”
“Yes, but if you don’t turn when I say to, it’s another mile till we can turn again! And another thing – I heard you on the phone, telling our other boy to be at the airport an hour before his flight tomorrow.”
“So?”
“Well, it needs to be more than hour, if he’s checking a bag. You’d better call him back about that, as soon as we get to the hotel.”
“Weren’t you telling us not to be control freaks, just a few seconds ago?”
“So now you decide to start listening to me?”
Yes, I wish us all good humor and generosity for 2016. We’re going to need it!
