How We Met a President

It all happened by mistake really. The AVA high school worked and saved and sweated up enough money to take a high school trip to Brasil's capitol, Brasilia. You know, the city that suddenly appeared out of nowhere around 50 years ago. It was Monday, and we were touring the government buildings. Our next stop was the Itamaraty Palace, the home of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. This striking building contains incredible art work, amazing architecture, and tranquil gardens. And the tour was free, so we had to see it!

Unfortunately, we were stopped as we tried to cross the entry bridge. An official ceremony was in progress. A guard informed us that ceremonies usually ended at 3.30 p.m. The time was 2.45.

Standing dejected, our eyes traveled to a black Cadillac parked in the lot--an uncommon car in Brasil-- very interesting, as were the beefy, very American-looking Secret Service agents milling around. Hmmm. And was that the American flag flying in front of the Palace?!!

We had heard the day before that President Jimmy Carter would be in Brasilia on Monday. Joking around, we imagined running into him at a resturant, or on the bus.

"Mr. President! How do you like the rice and beans?" "

"Mr. President, please take my seat, I don't mind standing..."

Perhaps our wildest dreams were about to come true. Sitting in the parking lot for an unknown length of time, all for the chance of seeing a president was not on our schedule, but seemed worth the try. So we sat. We talked quietly and made small gestures--no point getting the Secret Service all excited.

After a half hour, there was a flutter of activity. A small entourage began sweeping down the bridge.

There he was! Wildly, we whipped out our cameras, playing paparazzi.

We didn't catch his eye at first.

As he drew near, one of us said, "Hey, President Carter!" He appeared surprised. I suppose it's strange to hear an American voice in a parking lot in Brasilia. He looked at us, tour-worn high schoolers and teachers, then became presidential before our very eyes.

Shaking our hands, he asked us where we were from, what we were doing in Brasilia, and if we were Baptists. Many of us converted on the spot, in the heat of the moment.

He stopped. He inspired. He went.

I didn't move to the States until President H.W. Bush was in office. Reagan was ancient history. Carter even more so. I've never thought much about him until now, and now he's my favorite. For that 0.5 seconds when he shook my hand and looked into my eyes, I could tell that he cared. He was so real. This has ever been the mark of great men.

Yes, we all stood a little taller that day.

Look at me--full of president-induced glee. Or perhaps I was thinking about a giant bowl of ice cream (that's the Palace of the National Congress).