George H.W. Bush, aka “41,” was the same age as my father. Raised during the depression, and come of age during World War II, people from that generation were people of faith and civility, where love of country transcended personal preferences, and in the main, partisan politics were not allowed to compromise human decency and respect for others. They devoted their lives to service, to country and to one’s fellow human beings, and to their families.
My father had two brothers who served in the North Dakota Legislature, for different political parties, no less. I don’t know when or why our shared public life in this country changed, but the passing of 41, and the memory of my father, have steeled my resolve to be more of what they were.
