Thank you, Mr. Hill

Mrs. Kennedy and Me by Clint Hill with Lisa McCubbin

I just read a book I still can’t believe got written.

Clint Hill was one of the Secret Service agents assigned to Jacqueline Kennedy. He’s the agent who ran up and jumped onto the car after the shots were fired in Dealey Plaza and threw himself on top of the Kennedys.

And having seen a video of his 60 Minutes interview from the ’70s, I thought it highly unlikely that he’d ever write a book, not only because of the code of silence, but because it was clear that he had nearly been destroyed by the events of November 22, 1963.

The thing is, Hill is the only agent who hurled himself into harm’s way that day—running after the car and launching himself into it. Yet he held himself responsible for years for not reacting more quickly (more quickly than his 2-second response time) so that he could have prevented the assassination of the president.

I’m grateful to him -- for his devotion to his work, and also for having written this book. And thankfully for him, it sounds (from the Acknowledgments) like writing it helped Hill deal with the aftermath of the tragedy (though only after decades of torment).

So all of that is horribly somber and devastating stuff, but this book has a lightness about it, right up to the part where things got horrible.

This is the story of a working relationship that neither party expected to be a positive experience. Yet each person ended up adoring the other.

Hill had been on Eisenhower’s detail, so to him, it felt like a demotion when he was assigned to the security detail for the new First Lady. He anticipated little more than antiques shopping and the ballet.

For Mrs. Kennedy’s part, she dreaded the omnipresence of the Secret Service. But in time, as she told Hill, she found that the Secret Service agents were her best allies in trying to create a normal life for herself and her children.

And she and Hill clearly understood one another, to the point that she had him promoted to be the senior agent responsible for her protection; he handled things the way she wished for them to be handled.

That's Clint Hill, over Jacqueline Kennedy's right shoulder (just behind the nurse's hat). 

(Photo credit: Abbie Rowe, White House Photographs, John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum)   

The fascinating thing about their relationship is that they spent more time together than they spent with their own spouses. They referred to one another as “Mrs. Kennedy” and “Mr. Hill,” but it’s clear that there was a closeness, a respect, and an understanding that they shared.

Much of the book consists of a behind-the-scenes look at the events in Mrs. Kennedy’s life during the White House years. There are photos sprinkled through the book, many of them with Hill standing near Mrs. Kennedy in his role as protector.

The thing I did not expect was to cry while reading this book. Which makes me realize: I don’t think I’ve ever cried over Kennedy’s death before—even though he’s my favorite of all the presidents. It’s a weird thing. I think it must be because I was born after his assassination, so it was always just an accepted part of my world.

But when I read Clint Hill’s description of the days after JFK’s death, there were sentences that tore me apart. (The man has been dead all my life, yet still, I mourn. It’s a strange thing, that. But stranger, perhaps, that it never happened before.) In this case, it was the devastation experienced by those left behind that really got me.

I’m just so grateful Clint Hill broke his silence. He was a key participant in a major event in American history, and it makes me feel relieved that his story now has been shared in a way that ensures that it will be preserved and remembered. 

Awesome.

The Book of Awesome: Snow Days, Bakery Air, Finding Money in Your Pocket, and Other Simple, Brilliant Things by Neil Pasricha

Sometimes blogs become books, and sometimes that’s not really necessary. This book’s an example of that. While I liked it just fine, it was clearly A Blog (1000 Awesome Things).

And I like to read blogs online, and I like to read books that are books. Call me finicky, but that’s how I roll.

OK, that having been said… There are some things here that completely delighted me. Here they are:

- Fixing electronics by smacking them. I do this. Sometimes it even works. Other times, it just satisfies my need to let off steam. But when you think about it as a concept: funny.

20+ year old Tupperware. This stuff is indeed awesome.

- Really, really old Tupperware   (green, yellow, orange)

- When someone unjams the photocopier for you. This is true. It is. From the book: "A jammed photocopier at the office is a terrible scene." (p. 124 of the eBook) 

This line completely cracked me up, even though the jammed copier situation usually makes me have a serious inner scowl when it’s actually happening (which is always at the most inconvenient possible time). Now thinking “a terrible scene” is going to make me instead have…

- "The Laugh Echo,” which is: "when you laugh out loud after suddenly remembering something funny that happened a while ago."  (p. 340 of the eBook) 

I do this kind of often. Sometimes about things that happened over a decade ago. Sometimes at wildly inappropriate times. (There are examples I could mention, but some of them truly are just Wrong.) Usually, though, it’s a darn good thing.

So my recommendation is to check out the blog and skip the book. (The author probably ain’t gonna like that advice, and I shall be declared Non-Awesome.)

Not so wild about the criminals

The Barefoot Bandit: The True Tale of Colton Harris-Moore, New American Outlaw by Bob Friel

Since I’m no fan of true crime (it freaks me out*) and since I disdain books that take the side of the bad guys, there’s no way I’d’ve read this book if it hadn’t been our book club pick.

That having been said, this book actually kinda worked for me.

And here’s why:

First off, Friel is quite a nice writer. He’s a journalist, and I just love the way journalists write books. His tone is conversational, which makes the book’s words just glide easily past one’s eyes.

And despite my concerns that Friel would glorify the Barefoot Bandit, he really doesn’t. He’s clearly somewhat sympathetic, particularly when he learns about the kid’s horrible upbringing (if we can even call it that) by an alcoholic mom. But Friel lives on Orcas Island, so for him, it started to feel way more personal because this stuff was happening on his turf. Orcas was one of the earliest places Colt burgled and pulled some of his Goldilocks/home-invasion stunts.

And that’s the part where I started to get ticked.

The guy was breaking into people’s houses and living there while they were out of town. He was sleeping in their beds and eating their cereal!

This really pushes my buttons.

And then, he did even worse things. He stole—and crashed—people’s airplanes.

This is truly Not OK in my worldview.

Sure, yeah, it was amazing that he could fly at all, given his complete lack of flight training. And I empathize with his yearning to fly. But still. I Am Honked Off that that guy ripped off people’s airplanes!

So, yeah. He violated two of the most sacred spaces one can claim: home and aircraft. So I was like, yeah, go capture that guy and Lock.Him.Up.

So they did (the capture actually felt somewhat anti-climactic, despite the fact that it happened onboard a boat in the Bahamas), and now he’s in jail until he turns 26. Again, not very satisfying.

OK. So, the book. It started to feel a little bit too long, though I honestly don’t know where to recommend any editing. I think the story just dragged on too long, because the guy evaded capture for so long.

But overall, the story was surprisingly captivating. Back when Colt was Bandit-ing, I didn’t pay too much attention, so most of the story was news to me. And Friel’s writing style is sufficiently engaging that the book was sometimes hard to put down.

For this true-crime-phobic reader, this book’s a success.

* I read this book only during daylight hours, and never after dinner. Not because it’s a scary or freaky book, but because I am just that weirded out about true crime.

Book sale haul

It does my heart good to see what $8 still can buy.

Sure, it'll buy you lunch at Panera, but $8 can do way better than that. 

Yes, all those beautiful books you see there: $8!

Library book sales. They rock my world.

The biography/history table contained about 15 pounds of excellence, which made me grateful I've been working on my biceps. (With the smallest weights known to humankind, sure, but hey.)

I found 2 volumes of the Caro LBJ biography, the original Kennedy biography by Sorensen, a book about the Kennedy marriage, a Reagan bio by Noonan, two WWII books, an astronaut memoir (Frank Borman!), and a better copy of one of the Anne Morrow Lindbergh volumes. 

We can take bets now on how long these little lovelies will remain on the coffee table before the librarian compulsively shelves them all by subject.

(Which temptation shall be the stronger? To shelve the books, thus welcoming them to the collection and setting the world right because the books are interfiled in their proper place -- or to keep them set aside, so as to admire them in all their newness? Hell, even I don't know, and I'm the very weirdo with the strange inner struggle about such minutia.)

Most fun learning in a long while

Stranger Than Fiction: The Art of Literary Journalism by William McKeen

Here’s exactly how to make a geek girl happy: 

While she’s listening to an audiobook lecture series about literary journalism, address her as “fun-seeker.” Professor McKeen, the dear man, does this precise thing, and it gladdened my heart. Here’s how he starts out some of his lectures: “All right, fun-seekers…”

I mean, those are some encouraging words. I actually do realize I’m not the life of the party, but being told I’m a fun-seeker when listening to something semi-academic… oh, this makes me a happy one.

So this audio series had me completely blissing out, because I am all about the literary journalism.

And this guy is so wonderfully smart about the subject, and he’s engaging as all hell to listen to.

And guys! He’s talking about Tom Wolfe (in his obnoxious white suit) and Truman Capote (in his purple cape) and George Plimpton (playing football with the Detroit Tigers) and Hunter S. Thompson (getting pummeled by the Hells Angels) and Gay Talese (who would churn out a whopping single paragraph each day, and then stick it on the wall and read it from across the room using binoculars). These are some odd ducks.  

And this lecture series puts them all in context and relates them to one another in a way that is completely fascinating to learn.

If I hadn’t been driving while listening, I’d’ve been jotting down lots of titles I need to read. Instead, I did the thing where I repeat it to myself incessantly, “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold, Frank Sinatra Has a Cold…” to try to remember it upon disembarking from the car.

And: happiness. In the final lecture, McKeen gives a list of recommended further reading. 

So, yes. The Modern Scholar series is improving my world. And the “Stranger Than Fiction” lectures are my favorite of the bunch.