I must have slapped my head and looked to the heavens at that, but there was some laughter around the room. I looked over at that and said, “Sorry about that. I heard about my ‘dying orders’ the other day. I appreciate your taking care of them.”
She waved it off. “Everything was fine. Ever since my boys moved out we had the room, and they were good with the kids and the dogs.”
A reporter asked, “Did you really think your father was dying?”
Holly looked over at her sister, who nudged her and whispered something, and then Holly turned and said, ‘Well, maybe, I don’t know… it’s just…" She looked at the rest of us for a second and continued. "All my life — all our lives — we’ve heard how Dad is so brave and a hero and all, and to us he’s always been just… Dad, you know? And then during the tornado, when we were down in that basement, we were down on the floor and he was on top of us, like nothing could get to us without it going through him first. Then, afterwards, all I wanted to do was run away and hide, and he said no, that we had to help people. And now this… it’s just… I — we — suddenly realized that Dad is always about helping other people, not himself. Nothing is ever about Dad. And he told us to help Billy and Molly, so that’s what we were going to do, no matter what." She gave a wry shrug at that.
I didn’t know what to say. I looked over at Marilyn and she was smiling but her eyes were glistening. Great!
“Mrs. Buckman, when did you learn about your husband rescuing this family?” was yelled out.
Mariyn’s eyes opened when she realized a question for her. I passed her the microphone and she answered, “Probably like everybody else did. I had a day off from the campaign and I was watching television when they interrupted the show, and I could watch him being pulled out of that basement.”
“How did you feel?”
“Scared, mostly, but then when the story came out, I felt proud. It was like what Holly just said. I’ve known Carl since we were in college. He’s not about himself, he’s always about helping others. I married a hero.” The politicians behind me began applauding at that.
Meanwhile, this was all going out live. Needless to say, the next question was about the dogs. I glanced over and saw the aide on the side, who was smiling. I motioned him over and he ducked down and ran over. I took the newspaper, a day old copy of the New York Times, and I whispered, “Stick around.” He nodded.
The inevitable question came up. “Congressman, did you really adopt a puppy during the rescue?”
I laughed at that. “I had to! I promised the kids I would save them and I’d hate to break a campaign promise!” I turned to look at Governor Bush. “Governor, we keep our promises, don’t we?!”
He smiled back and yelled out, “Absolutely!”
At that point I turned back to his assistant and said quietly, “Let’s have that box.” He lifted the box up to the conference table, where it moved a bit. “Let me introduce the newest member of the Buckman family. My daughters named her Stormy!” I popped the lid off the box and the pup dutifully stuck her head out and looked around. I awkwardly reached in with my good hand and lifted her up, and she licked my face. The room erupted in applause and cheering.
I had a funny feeling something was about to happen, so I told the assistant, “Leave me the cover section, but spread out that paper back here.” His eyes widened a bit, but he smiled and tossed the cover section on the table. I turned back to the group and said, “Excuse us, but this little girl is still a puppy. I think we need to set her down.” The fellow picked up Stormy and set her down on the newspaper, and she dutifully squatted and peed about ten gallons out. I made a wry look at the audience, and nodded to them. More than a few of the politicians looked horrified, but nobody could see from the audience. When she was finished, she looked around and tried to wander off, but the assistant grabbed her and put her up on the table. She came over and licked my face again.
Only one thing to do! I picked up the front page of the New York Times, probably the most liberal newspaper in the country. I held it so that everyone could see the cover. I leaned into the microphone and said, “Stormy prefers the New York Times because it’s extra fluffy and absorbent. The New York Times — Stormy tested, Stormy approved!”
The laughter was pretty deafening at that, and we needed to bring this to an end. I pushed the pup down the table to the girls and stood up, picking up a microphone. “I think it’s time to let some people go home. I’d like to apologize to the people of Springboro that I wasn’t able to meet more of them the other day before we were so rudely interrupted. Here’s two more campaign promises. First, the people behind me, your Governor and Senators and Congressmen, are going to bust their butts to help get Springboro back on its feet, and your next President, President George W. Bush, will be helping make that happen.” I looked back and saw the people behind me were all loudly agreeing to this. I turned back and continued, “Secondly, I am going to be recuperating for a few more days, and then I’ll be at the convention in Philadelphia. However, my first stop after that will be in Springboro, and I’ll see what I can do to help them myself!”
Chapter 129: Home Again, Home Again
With that we shut off the mikes and despite the reporters still calling out questions, we all started moving out. Behind me at my feet was the soiled newspaper. Great! I dropped to one knee, to try and roll it up one handed, when the young assistant dropped down next to me and said, “I’ll get that, Congressman.” He already had a small trash can ready. I steadied the trash can for him and he rolled it up and stuffed it inside. “We’re out this way, Congressman.”
I looked around and saw that the twins had already bundled up the mutt, and were following their mother out the door we were heading towards. “What’s your name?” I asked him. He was about 24 or 25.
“Frank Stouffer, Congressman.”
“And what do you do in this traveling circus?”
“Mr. Rove has me assigned to the Governor.”
I nodded and was about to speak further when Doctor Shooster tapped me on the right shoulder. “Congressman, you can’t leave yet. I need to check you out first.”
I grumbled at that, but was much more polite when Anna Simpson came up and shook my hand and kissed my cheek. “Thank you so much, Congressman! I know Tom and Sylvie want to thank you. Maybe when you come back you can meet them. You are coming back, aren’t you?”
I smiled. “I just said it on national television. I don’t think I can back out now. If she’s not out of the hospital by then, I’ll look her up, for sure.”
“Thank you.” She kissed my cheek again and then looked over at the twins. “You did real good with those girls.” Then she was gone.
I said good-bye to the other politicians. They were planning on an inspection tour of Springboro, to ‘assist.’ God help Springboro! Before they left, I asked George Bush, “What’s that kid of yours, Frank, do for you?”
He gave a shrug. “He’s one of Karl’s boys. Why?”
“Can I have him? He seems smart.”
“Why? What do you need him for?”
“I need a dog-robber,” I told him.
He glanced at Frank and pointed at me. “Stick with the Congressman. You belong to him now.”
Stouffer looked surprised with that but rolled with the flow. “Uh, okay.” He turned to me and said, “What’s a dog-robber?”
“Old time Army term. It means an aide-de-camp, somebody who helps out a general, who will rob a dog of his bone if ordered. Go get your stuff from wherever you’ve got it stashed and get back here before we leave. Pick up a dog crate big enough to handle Stormy and a few dog bowls,” I told him.