Thumbs-up and a friendly smile from a stranger. The beginning of another travel-story:
About 15 years ago, on a whim, I met Bill Clinton (then the United States Senator from Arkansas) in a restaurant in Washington DC. That encounter, which I can still remember clearly, was memorable for its momentary brilliance, its intensity. I didn’t know him then, but today I wish I had.
Clinton, a few years younger than me at the time, was tall, handsome, charismatic, and very impressive. When he greeted me, we spoke of the common past of our political past–the two years we had served with President Reagan and the years we had served in his administration and Congress–and my own life. We talked of our shared love of opera, of old Hollywood movies, of art, of travel, of our dreams. More important than anything else, we talked about the American future, even as we talked about the future of the Clintons’ Democratic primary opposition to his wife Hillary.
“Do you have grandchildren,” I asked Bill Clinton.
His response was simple, direct, and unforgettable. “Probably some that are close at hand,�…
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