George H. Bush

President Bush

Oviedo, Spain

Spring 1997

Sharon, my sister, lived in Spain for 1 ½ years and I visited her on three occasions.  She lived in Oviedo, northern Spain, a small town filled with people who quickly embraced Sharon and her family.

On one of my occasions, Sharon announced that former President Bush was coming to town. I was surprised to hear this bit of information.  He had been out of office for six years now and had kept a low profile in the United States.  So what was he doing in Spain and would the Spaniards have any interest in what he had to say, a has been, one term president;  A dull president whose career was sandwiched in between two presidents who presented themselves as larger than life.

Who would want to come listen to his speech?  And I knew the auditorium where he would be speaking held over 1000 people.  I imagined Bush at the podium,talking to a near empty audience.  This image filled me with patriotic shame.  Even though I did not vote for him, he was still my president at one time. So Sharon and I both decided to go to this lecture as our patriotic duty to our country.  We were going to go and honor the office of the president.

We changed out of our jeans for something a bit more presentable, and we set out to the auditorium in the middle of the town square.  The heart of Oviedo was about ½ mile from Sharon’s apartments.   Like her European neighbors, we walked uphill to town, which for me, was filled with wonderful cafes,  tappas bars, clothing boutiques and jewelry stores.  It was a place where we would spend the afternoon, drinking sangrias and eating tappas, or spending time with the local artist who made beautiful leather bags and, one time, made leather sandals for the pope.  (Everyone who comes in to his store heard this proud story again and again).

We would often find a café at night and sit back and share glass after glass of cidra, a fermented cider, while engaging in conversations with the local people. They would patiently tolerate our broken Spanish.  

All of my occasions in this little town square had been pleasant and a step away from reality.  They were filled with enjoyable conversations and outgoing, gracious Spaniards, wonderful food and memories of good times. So we set out on foot with the thought of hearing a dull speech, followed by a nice dinner at a local café.

When we arrived at the square, we encountered lots of commotion, lots of noise.  There were barricades and lots of police, both on foot and on horseback. We had anticipated that we would walk right up to the theater, buy a ticket and get a seat somewhere near the front row.

But we were stopped along the way by a police officer.  We quickly and confidentially explained to him that we were Americans.  That didn’t impress him.   He indicated that we needed an invitation. “An invitation”, we both laughed out loud. “Who would want to be invited to this event?”   

Then we quickly had our answer.  We noticed limo after limo dropping off the high society of Oviedo.  One couple after another stepped out, dressed in black tie and gowns, and appearing to be excited about going to meet the former president.

We laughed at our own naiveté and at our thoughts that no one would want to hear this man speak.  And then the police officer came over and pulled on my arm.  We had to move on.  As we turned, we now saw and heard a second crowd who had come to see Bush: the protesters.  There must have been 200 or more angry people who were there with signs in both English and Spanish.  They were chanting and shouting and the police stood by in defensive positions, ready to take action if any protesters stepped out of line.

As I read their signs, I stepped back in to my own thoughts.  These people knew Bush; they knew his policies.  They were holding him accountable for his actions as the president of a foreign country.  I am standing in Spain, unaware of who was their political leader.  I had never thought of their government. I knew nothing about Spain’s foreign policy.  And at that moment, I also could not recall Bush’s foreign policy.  His time in office did not leave any indelible ink marks in my mind.  He just filled in the gap between Reagan and Clinton.  But he enraged these gentle Spaniards. He had bombed too much of the world during his regime.  He had not taken care of the environment and he had been too greedy about oil.  These Spaniards were not forgiving him.

And now Sharon and I were standing in between these two crowds.  To our right were the rich, conservatives going to meet our retired statesman.  To the left were hundreds of angry Spaniards, disgusted with our government. Where do we stand now?  If we were pushed off the proverbial fence, which way would we fall?  And then, Sharon did fall. I thought someone had pushed her.  But she missed the curb and fell straight down.  And then it dawned on us: head straight home.  And that’s what we did.  Sharon picked herself up.  We made our way straight through the crowds; we went straight home.