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Posted on Fri, Dec. 12, 2008

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FOR ALEX: SIXTH OF A SEVEN-PART SERIES

Gloria has questions for the president

BY ROY WENZL

The Wichita Eagle

You don't seem bitter, the president of the United States had just told the Funcheon family. Are you?

Karen thought this was an odd question. Of course they were bitter. They had lost their son Alex six weeks before. Karen had wanted to die every day since.

"No," Bob said.

You... well, Bush said, his voice trailing off.

He thought for a moment.

I'm supposed to be the encourager here, he said.

The Funcheons looked puzzled. Bush tried to explain:

Well... the word around the White House is that I'm the Encourager in Chief, among other things. Word is that I'm the Commander in Chief, the Decider in Chief... the Encourager in Chief.

Apparently this was a White House joke. Bush smiled.

"Well, we are here to encourage you," Bob said. "To make it worthwhile. To make the war worthwhile."

Karen unfolded a paper she'd held in her hand.

"I guess it's my turn.

"Just like your mother and father raised you and your brothers to be God-fearing and to be leaders, we raised our children to be God-fearing and to be leaders," Karen said.

She paused, then handed Bush three photos of Alex.

Then she handed him Alex's dog tags.

"It is important to me that you remember my son," she said.

Bush appeared startled, and deeply moved.

A few moments passed.

Are you sure you want to give me his dog tags? he asked.

"Yes," Karen said.

Well, Bush said.

Another moment passed.

I'm going to have a presidential library, Bush said. And these dog tags will be in my library.

Bush slowly picked up the photographs. In one, taken by Lt. Jon Bland, Alex stares defiantly at the camera, wearing desert camo and the brown-billed "Playboy Club Baghdad" cap with the long-eared bunny on the front.

Bush grinned, and looked quizzically at Bob.

"We're not crazy about the hat," Bob said. Bush laughed.

Bob stood up. He felt like God had opened a door.

"Mr. President," he said. "I would like to pray for you."

Bush stood quickly, bowed his head, and reached out. He took Bob's left hand in his right, and Gloria's right hand in his left. Karen held Bob and Gloria's hands. A prayer circle of four.

Bob bowed his head.

"I pray that God will give you insight," Bob said. "That God will give you understanding, that God will open a pathway before you.

"I pray for your and Laura's marriage, that you will trust each other and see each other as you once did."

They stood still for a moment, heads bowed. They slowly released each other's hands.

And Gloria spoke.

"Can I ask a couple of questions?"

• • • 

Bob braced himself; Karen too. Karen noticed that Gloria did not say "Mr. President," the way the rest of the world did. Nor did Gloria ever say it in the conversation that followed.

She took up her note paper and her pen again, and looked at Bush with a steady gaze.

Sure, Bush said.

She explained that at Wichita East High School she had recently qualified for the National Forensics League Student Senate.

Go ahead, Bush said.

"OK, well, given that the Cold War theoretically ended in 1989, why are we still practicing the policy of containment with the Cuban embargo?"

Here comes Gloria, Bob thought.

Bush shook his head.

We need to keep it in place because it's a communist tyranny there. That country is run by gangsters who profit from the exchange of dollars. When dollars come in from trade, the Cuban government takes the dollars, exchanges them for Cuban pesos, and that's what they pay to the people who earned the dollars; the government makes a lot of money off the exchange. All that would happen if we lifted the embargo would be that the tyrants would get richer and the poor over there would get poorer.

Gloria looked at him. If this was a real debate, she said later, she already had him on a hook -- but he had been nice to her, and he was the president, so she ignored the temptation to point out that the U.S. traded billions of dollars with other supposed tyrannies, China, Venezuela.

"I have another question."

"Gloria," Bob said.

No, no, Bush said, waving Bob off. Let her ask her questions.

"Is it possible to grant amnesty to illegal immigrants currently living in the U.S.?" Gloria asked. "What should our policy be on illegal immigration?"

A complex issue, Bush said. On one side are those who want to get all the illegal aliens out of the country, every last one of them.

And that is just totally impractical, Bush said. There is no way we can deport 12 million people; it isn't going to happen.

On the other side, Bush said, there are those who want to let everyone come in. The best solution was somewhere in the middle, to find a way to let people become citizens in an orderly way, to integrate them, to have them pay taxes and receive services.

Gloria asked another question.

"Are you worried about the Palestinian militant group Hamas and their recent take-over of the Gaza Strip, and did you have any plans to try to talk to the leaders of Hamas? Shouldn't the United States at least consider the idea of talking with them?"

No, Bush said. They are a terrorist organization, and their stated goal is to overthrow the state of Israel. You can't talk with terrorists. How can you talk to them, when their stated goal is to wipe out Israel?

Bob interrupted again.

"We need to go."

Bush smiled. It's all right, he said. What's your next question?

Gloria had caught the look on her father's face.

"Dad?"

Bob shrugged. "Gloria, he said you could ask another question." He almost laughed; the leader of the free world had just given Gloria permission to keep interrogating him, and this cool-eyed girl had turned to her father asking approval.

She asked about terror in Indonesia and what Bush and the U.S. were doing to work with Australia to curb it.

Bush sat back, startled at her depth of knowledge. Bob felt a surge of pride. How many 18-year-old American kids know about the Indonesian problem?

Bush glanced at Bob. She is going to be a great leader someday, Bush said. He turned to Gloria.

You're absolutely right, he said. The U.S. is indeed very concerned about terrorism in Indonesia and in the Pacific, and the U.S. is playing a behind-the-scenes role, letting Australia take the lead, helping and advising them.

Bush looked at Gloria now with some wonder.

"I have another question," she said.

Bob felt panic rising. But he could tell, and he thought Bush could see also, that Gloria had melted. She had read for years now that Bush might be an inarticulate and unfocused goof; she could see he was none of those things.

Go ahead, Bush said.

"Do you think it would ever be good to have a national ban on smoking?"

No. We tried that with alcohol, and it didn't work.

Bob was sweating; he thought the temperature in the room had risen considerably. He wondered, though he knew it was preposterous, whether the pilot had deliberately turned off the air conditioner. Bob nodded to Gloria with a look that said, "Enough!"

At that moment, though the President had made no sign, the door opened, and a photographer walked in. Bush stood up.

The photographer posed four photos. He took a family portrait with the president, then posed the president with each of them alone.

What do you want to do when you get out of school? Bush asked Gloria.

"International relations," she said. "I want to be a diplomat."

Bush looked delighted. He began reciting "chapter and verse," as Gloria said later, about how to go about this, what classes to take; he even named Web sites she could check out. He wasn't just the president, Gloria realized; he was the son of a president who had been a diplomat. He knew this stuff.

But understand, Bush told her with a grin, you're not going to become a diplomat right off the bat, you'll have to work your way up to that.

And it was over. Or so Bob thought.

"Could I ask something of you?" Gloria said.

Bob felt panic again.

Sure, Bush said.

"Could I get your autograph for two of my friends?"

Bob and Karen looked at Glo with surprise.

Sure, Bush said. He turned to his desk, picked up a pen and a pad of Air Force One stationery.

Only two? Bush asked.

"Yes."

Why only two?

Gloria looked at him coolly.

"Those are the only two Republican friends I have."

Bush grinned.

Well, Bob thought. At least he knows she's not a kiss-up.

"My friends are Creighton and Jordan," Gloria said.

"To Creighton," Bush wrote. "Best Wishes... "and signed the paper. He signed one for Jordan.

Anybody else?

Gloria hesitated.

"I guess I would like to have one, too," Gloria said.

Bush smiled and wrote.

He shook hands.

They stepped out the door, met Army Sgt. Charles Austin Hilt, their Casualty Assistance Officer, walked to the back of Air Force One, and walked out the back doorway ladder to the concrete below.

Outside, television and newspaper reporters, guarded by police and Secret Service agents, had baked in the heat for 45 minutes. The Funcheons walked slowly past, inches from notepads and cameras.

The reporters stood silent at first. They quickly figured out that Bush had met with a soldier's family. They wanted to know what was said on the plane. A couple of reporters started to ask questions; the Funcheons waved them off.

For a long time, the Funcheons didn't say anything to anyone but their closest friends.

Coming Saturday: Did Alex Funcheon die in vain?