Presidential Shadows

by Michael Cantwell

Wendy apologized for days. I accepted her words many times but she must have known I was still upset. It was one thing for Greg or some of the other boys to bust on me but not my good friends.

  Sometimes when you study hard and get good grades, kids tease you. It was common in middle school. I never understood why anyone would tease you for doing well in school. I had never forgotten the man who owned the computer store who came to class and taught us about owning a business and other cool stuff in Jr. Achievement. He always told us that the better we did in school the more opportunities we would have to attend a good college. The better we did in college, the more jobs we could get after we graduated. Who wouldn’t want more choices in life?

  When Wendy picked on me for wanting to learn good stuff, it ticked me off, big time. She told me a million times how she wanted to be the boss of everyone. Making fun of people who wanted to learn was not the way for anyone to achieve their goals.

  She followed me into English class still yapping about how sorry she was. I told her for the umpteenth time to let it go. We arrived and sat in class as the bell rang.

  “Settle down, class,” Mrs. Francis, our English teacher said. “I have some news. As you know, during this school year, we have been exchanging letters with students from Harvard University. We have received another letter. This one is from a young man named Barak Obama.”

  Wendy kicked my desk. “Be that way, Alex. I give up trying to apologize.”

  “Is there a problem, Miss Newman?” our teacher asked. Finally a teacher who didn’t blame me when Wendy kicked my desk.

  “No, Mrs. Francis.”

  “Good,” our teacher said. “As I was saying, one of the law students has written a final letter to the class. He has graduated and is now working for a law firm in Chicago. In his remarks, Mr. Obama wants to thank all of you for your kind letters. He asked me to tell you all not to allow your failures to define you, but learn from what your failures can teach you. His letter asked me to tell you that focusing your life solely on making money shows a certain poverty of ambition. You need to ask more from yourself. He believes that when you hitch your wagon to something larger than yourself, that’s when you reach your true potential.”

  Andy Bedard raised his hand.

  “Yes, Andy. Do you have a question?”

  “Mrs. Francis, do you think Mr. Obama is being paid at his new job?”

  Our teacher smirked. “I would think so. However, Mr. Obama is asking you to think larger.”

  I raised my hand.

  “Yes, Alex?”

  “You can work hard and make a lot of money but Tommy Wilson will want to take it from you. In Mr. Obama's last letter, he told us there comes a point where you can make too much money. Who decides how much money anyone can make, Mrs. Francis?”

  Everyone who didn’t have their heads on their desks looked at our teacher for an answer. She threw me a dirty look.

  “All I know is, this was a beautifully written letter and I am an English teacher, not your Civics instructor. I would suggest you ask Mr. Weadon or your parents that question. Better yet, everyone take out a clean sheet of paper and write two hundred words about how much money you think the president of a big company should earn.”

  I looked at Bruce. He shrugged. Wendy kicked my desk and said, “Nice going, Mr. I Know Everything about History.”

  I didn’t understand why Samuel Wilson kept insisting I would be a great leader one day. I couldn’t even stop a thirteen year old girl from kicking my desk. The bell rang. We proceeded to history class. Mr. Weadon had a big surprise for me.

  “I felt bad, Alex,” he said. “I spoke with Mr. Clark and he sent me another ball. You deserved it. I never thought anyone would get all the answers and when you did, I was too selfish to give away my ball. I apologize.”

  I was thrilled. I now had a ball from Will Clark to give to Star. Despite being a cold wintery day, I decided to walk home. I wondered why I was an outcast. I thought about why some presidents believed it was good to tax people higher who made more money and other presidents believed in taxing citizens less. I knew my thinking about taxation was advanced for a kid my age. However, I had a book full of history written by the men who created it. I figured people should think I was crazy if I didn’t ask questions and know our past.

  Trudging along, kicking dirty snow with my boots and feeling sorry for myself, I thought about President Monroe fighting for his survival on Christmas day. The story President Lincoln told me at Gettysburg. Despite feeling alone, Lincoln held firm to his principles that slavery had to end. President Grant told me his troops destroyed towns in the south, leaving many without fathers or sons. I thought about the anguish Mr. Truman went through in deciding if he should drop atomic bombs on another country. For an instant, I heard the screams of horror on D-Day and Pearl Harbor.

  There was nothing to feel sorry about because I wanted to learn about our nation’s history. I felt a twinge of pride in knowing I was a proud citizen of the United States of America. I suddenly understood Sam Wilson’s lessons. This nation was created from the sacrifices of many who came before me. To feel sorry because we had to write a couple hundred words in class was silly. Leadership comes with a price. I knew from that day forward, it was time to pay the price for leadership.

  Theodore Roosevelt said, “It is hard to fail, but it is worse never to have tried to succeed.” I tried to succeed in school and athletics but never as a leader. How many thirteen year olds wanted to lead? Not many. However, how many had friends who were presidents?

  Grandpa Frank gave me a poster that hung in my room. It was a quote from President Reagan. It read, “There's no sweeter day than each new one, because here in our country it means something wonderful can happen to you.” I read that poster every morning not fully understanding its meaning until that day. Something wonderful could happen to me or to anyone. However, you can’t stick a pencil in your ear and not pay attention in class and expect good things to happen to you.

  I took a shortcut home through a small wooded area. I heard the crunching of something walking in the snow behind me. I picked up my pace hoping to out run the Jersey Devil or a man eating bear. The crunching sound moved closer. Terrified, I turned to look. The noise was from a man who looked the same age as my brother was, but this man towered over me. He had broad shoulders and wore a dirty military uniform.

  “When others upset me, I turn to the woods myself. It is far better to be alone, than to be in bad company,” the large man said.

  “If this is your property, mister, I was just cutting through to get home. I’ll take a different path next time. I promise.”

  The man smiled. “Relax, young man. My home is Mount Vernon. I am on my way there now.”

  As I looked closer, I noticed the man had bullet holes in his uniform. He looked tired.

  With my heart pounding I asked, “Who shot ya? If someone with a gun is chasing you, mister, please let me go. I promise I won’t come in these woods ever again.”

  “You are safe. The battle with the French forces was far from here. I rode with General Edward Braddock to reclaim British lands taken by the French. An ambush occurred. Many men lie dead, including the General. What is left of our militia is returning to Virginia.”

  “Wait a minute, are you talking about the French and Indian War? That war happened a long time ago. You must be a president.”

  “What’s a president?” the man asked.

  “I’ll tell you what a president is, if you tell me your name.”

  “I am Colonel Washington a member of the Virginia militia. It’s an honorary rank. One day I trust I’ll become a full member of the British army. I’ll admit however to be annoyed the appointment has yet to occur. I have fought many a battle against the French on behalf of the British crown.”

  “Get outta town. You mean to tell me that I’m speaking with the same George Washington who is the father of our country and the first president of the United Sates? I wondered when you would show up
. I’ve met most of the other presidents. I was worried you were some crook running from the cops or maybe a long lost Boy Scout.”

  President Washington looked at the trees bending in the wind. He stared back at me. I started to feel uneasy. “Worry is the interest paid on those who borrow trouble. Tell me young lad, what is a president and what are the United States?”

  I laughed. “Is Candid Camera hiding behind a tree? You were the first president. A president is the leader of our country. Some presidents try to be a bigger boss than the Constitution allows. I learned that from meeting President Andrew Jackson. This land is one of the fifty states that make up the United States.”

  “Have you mistaken me for your king or leader? I assure you, I do find fame and fortune an interesting prospect, but king I am not. I hope I shall always possess firmness and virtue enough to maintain what I consider the most enviable of all titles, the character of an honest man.” Washington wiped off the snow and sat on the edge of a large tree that had fallen over. It looked like he was counting something. “Surveying is my trained profession, though I do intend on retiring as a farmer in the near term.”

  “What’s surveying?”

  “My brother, Lawrence, rest his soul, married into a prominent family from Virginia. The Fairfax family. I fancied one of the daughters myself, but she is quite married. Colonel William Fairfax schooled me in the finer aspects of life. After learning the craft of surveying, with the assistance of the Fairfax connections, I received an appointment as the official surveyor of Culpeper County. Surveying is a science of determining points and angles on the land. You must be very good in math to be a surveyor. Men who create maps use my work.”

  “That sounds pretty hard.”

  “Indeed,” Washington declared. “What do you aspire to be, young sir?”

  “I dunno what I want to be. I’m only thirteen and a half years old. I wanted to be a sports reporter but Richard Nixon and Lyndon Johnson told me reporters suck. Sam Wilson keeps telling me that I’m destined to be a great leader. That’s why I was in the woods. Kids at school are ticked off because I opened my big mouth. Now we have extra homework.”

  “You should seek guidance from your mother and father. My mother was the most beautiful woman I ever saw. My father died when I was but eleven. My brother Lawrence oversaw my upbringing. Now that he has joined the angels in heaven, I have assumed the responsibilities of the land my family has passed down.”

  “I know you want to be a farmer but Sam Wilson must have had plan for you like he says he has for me. You won’t be a farmer for long, President Washington.”

  “Stop calling me by that title. You may address me as Colonel. Be a proper gent and respect my title. Now what of your family? Does your family hold land?”

  “We have a nice house with a yard. My dad fixes sinks and pipes. He’s a hard worker. My mother is a schoolteacher. I have a brother about your age. I think he’s going to work at Sears or something. I don’t know. He has a girlfriend. She’s nice but really needs to shave her legs. Grandpa would think it’s really cool I met you. I’ll tell him next time I see him.”

  Washington closed his eyes and lifted his head into the cool breeze. “Enjoy nature, my young friend. It is impossible to reason without arriving at a supreme being. As I stated earlier, I enjoy nature. I can take my horse and ride for hours in the back country.”

  “I’d like to ride a horse one day. One of my friends from school went to a riding park one day where he got to ride horses on a trail for hours. He said his butt hurt the next day, but he wants to go back.”

  Washington laughed. “Yes, I understand his backside being sore if he was not accustomed to a saddle. When I ride too much, I switch to finding a good dance partner. Dancing is one of my favorite past times. I am also quite good at fencing.”

  “Oh yeah, I saw those guys with the pointy sticks on a James Bond movie. I don’t know how to dance. Mom told me one time she would teach me, but that would mean I would have to dance with girls.”

  The Colonel shook his head. “One day you might find it enjoyable. I have my future dance partner waiting for me back home. The widow, Martha Custis. Her husband left her considerable land holdings and two small children. I intend to ask her to marry me when I return from this mission.”

  I smiled. “Good luck with that, Colonel. Something tells me she will say yes. I never knew Martha was a widow before she married you. I learned something new.”

  “Are you a spy? You seem to know far too much about me personally. Is this a test to see if I am loyal to the King?”

  I sat for a brief moment thinking if Wendy and Bruce where here would they think differently about learning history? I knew more about the Revolutionary War than President Washington. To him, he had not lived through it yet. How cool was this?

  “I’m not a spy, Colonel. No one sent me. I don’t know how, but I think Sam Wilson sent you to me. I have a book with secrets from people who led our country. It has taught me so much about what it takes to be a leader. I also have figured out why it is important to learn history and how our country was founded.”

  “I am lost with your words, but do tell.”

  I dug into my pocket. “John Adams once told me, ‘Liberty cannot be preserved without general knowledge among the people.’ When he told me that, I ignored it. But, I did write it down with other quotes presidents have asked me to remember. Adams was trying to tell me that if I don’t know what the government is doing, it will take advantage of me for not knowing. The people must know our history so that liberty can be preserved. It is all starting to make sense to me now.”

  “You are an odd fellow. We are loyal British subjects. However, I will admit, Great Britain hath no right to put its hands in my pocket.”

  “Oh, Colonel, one day we’re going to meet again and laugh. People will eventually object to ‘No taxation without representation’ and then there will be the Declaration of Independence, the Revolutionary War and the writing of our Constitution. You are going to be an important person. Make sure you get back to Virginia in one piece.”

  “I should shoot you right here for treason against the Crown.”

  “Nah, trust me, your bullets won’t work on me. It’s cold out here. Mom’s going to worry if I’m not home soon. If I tell her I was in the woods talking with George Washington, she’ll go bananas on me.”

  “Bananas?”

  I smiled. “You have so much to learn. The same way I do. Do me a favor though, when you meet Thomas Jefferson, don’t try to change too many words in the Declaration of Independence. He worked really hard on it. He gets his feelings hurt easy when people try to mess with his words.”

  “One question. Who is Sam Wilson? Are you sure he’s not feeding you with bad intelligence?”

  “Sam is a creepy looking man with a long beard and a big hat. He wants me to call him Uncle Sam but that really freaks me out. I’m not afraid of him anymore. President Reagan said, ‘We the people tell the government what do; it doesn’t tell us.’ I think Sam Wilson needs my help to remind people that ‘We the People’ are in control but only if we stay educated about our past.”

  “What’s your name? I intend to inform the local magistrate to keep an eye on you.”

  “Alex Schuler, Mr. President. One day I will be living in the town named after you.”

  I turned for home and never looked back.

  ~~~*~~~

  Chapter Twenty Four