Oprah: "But you've made it work for you."
Marilyn: "Very much so! We met in 1974, so that means we've known each other for, what, 28 years now."
Oprah: "Did you ever have a breakup when you were dating?"
Marilyn: "Oh, Carl is going to hate me for this!" (Laughing.) "Yes, back when we were in college he said something stupid and I dumped him. He's not very good at groveling, but I made him!"
Oprah: "What did he say? You have to tell us!"
Marilyn: (Still laughing.) "No, I don't think so, but it required a lot of groveling, and an engagement ring, to boot!" (She held up her left hand and showed her engagement ring.)
Oprah: (Now laughing, also.) "Groveling is good, but groveling and diamonds are even better!"
Marilyn: "That's so true!"
Oprah: "Is President Buckman a romantic man?"
Marilyn: "Hmmm, it's really not his style. He can be very sweet and incredibly supportive, but he's not really big on the whole grand romance thing. Still ... there was this one letter ... he didn't write it to be romantic, but it was just about the most romantic thing I'd ever read." (She held up her hand and stood to go off camera. She returned with her purse, and opened it and rummaged through until she found a plastic wrapped letter in the bottom.) "I always have it with me. This was Carl's good-bye letter."
Oprah: "What do you mean?"
Marilyn: "Carl was in the Army, in a combat outfit, and a lot of guys write farewell letters, you know, in case they don't come home. Carl had one buried in the dresser, and when he was dropped into Nicaragua nobody knew what happened. The Army didn't tell us for almost a week! There were all sorts of rumors, like the plane had crashed and they were all dead, and I opened his letter. Here, you read it. I always cry when I read it."
With that she handed it to Oprah, who read it aloud, as Marilyn grabbed a tissue. Great! That letter was as maudlin as you could get!
Oprah: "Yes, it is romantic, and sweet, and more than a bit maudlin. It sounds a bit depressing, too."
Marilyn: "Carl can get a little melancholy at times. I think he was thinking about his own family when he wrote it. Aside from his sister, I don't think any of them would have really minded him dying. It's a horrible thing to say, but I don't think they would have cried if he had died. Carl's family was truly horrible, except for his sister Suzie. She's wonderful, but she managed to escape, too."
Oprah: "They actually disowned him and didn't even tell him? How was that even possible?"
Marilyn: "I think they filed a legal notice in the Baltimore Sun, but Carl was in the Army at Fort Bragg at the time, in North Carolina. That's all we can figure. Still, what kind of parents could throw away a child? That's what they did! Who could do that?"
Oprah: "According to the timeline, they disowned him right after you two married. Do you take any blame for that?"
Marilyn: "Not really. I think it would have happened anyway, sooner or later. I was just a convenient excuse. His mother never liked me. At our wedding she told Carl, with me standing next to him, and my parents in the background, that he could have done better. What kind of a mother does that?"
Oprah: "She didn't!"
Marilyn: (Nodding.) "She did. It's true."
There was a bit more on this line, none of which I found either new or amusing, but I was sure it was wonderful human interest crap. I wasn't surprised it made it to the air. Oprah finished with a sore subject.
Oprah: "So, you have to tell us. You've been married almost 24 years. What exactly is the Carl Buckman Experience!?"
Marilyn: (Laughing.) "Oh, please! Who says that's so special! Maybe Carl was interested in the Marilyn Lefleur Experience! Ever thought of that one? Oh! Damn! My mother is probably watching this! Mom, there is no Marilyn Lefleur Experience!" (Laughter all around!)
The next day, at my early morning staff meeting, the idiocy commenced. As expected, Ari said, "You know it's bound to come up, so I have to ask you. How did you break your nose?"
"Ari, it doesn't matter. You'll never be able to tell anyone anyway."
"Mister President, we're going to get the question. We need an answer."
"Ari, there is no way in the world you're going to be able to spin this. Trust me!"
He pushed some more. "They won't accept no comment."
I looked around the Oval Office. Besides Ari, I was meeting with Josh, Mindy, and Mrs. Hawthorne, the senior secretary. They were all looking at me expectantly. "Don't say I didn't warn you. You want to know how I broke my nose? Okay, here goes! The summer after I graduated from high school, one night I was over at my girlfriend's house and her parents came home early. Like, hours and hours early! Getting the picture? Got an idea how you're going to spin that one, Ari?"
Ari groaned. "Don't do this to me, Mister President!"
Mindy and Mrs. Hawthorne were laughing, and Josh kept pushing. "I thought you were a black belt by then?"
"I wasn't exactly in a position to defend myself, Josh.", I answered.
"Exactly what position were you in, Boss?", teased Mindy.
"Never you mind, young lady!"
Ari was simply shaking his head in amused dejection. "Just how bad did it get?"
"Mom and Dad were not amused when they came home early. Dad was kicking my ass while Mom was throwing the crockery at me."
Josh asked, "So what did you do? Please don't tell me you punched out her father!"
"Jesus, no! No, I simply grabbed my pants and ran out of the house and drove myself to the hospital. It's the only fight I've ever lost. He kicked the crap out of me!", I said, laughing.
"Great! How old were you at the time?", asked Ari.
"Underage. I was 17 and she was 16."
"Great! Statutory rape! You could be charged as a sexual offender.", he continued.
"Ari, trust me. The only ones offended were her parents!", I told him.
Mindy and Mrs. Hawthorne were laughing loudly by now, as was Josh. Ari smiled and shook his head. "You're not helping, Mister President! You could be called a sexual predator!"
"Considering the position I was in, I would have to argue I wasn't the predator!", I replied.
Ari groaned and smiled. "Definitely not being helpful!"
"And that's why I won't be answering that question, Ari. You will!"
Mrs. Hawthorne had to ask, "Is this part of the Carl Buckman Experience?"
"Why don't you ask Mrs. Buckman sometime? I can't wait to hear the answer."
"Final question.", added Ari. "Want to tell the world about the Marilyn Lefleur Experience?"
"OUT! All of you!" I pointed towards the door, and the laugh track for the morning took off to their own offices.
For utter nuttiness, though, nothing could beat the White House Correspondents Dinner, which was held May 4. This was the first Dinner I had ever attended. Last year, as a punishment for disagreeing with Dick Cheney and Karl Rove, I had been sent to Burundi, Rwanda, and the Congo for a week, to make nice and find some facts. The only fact that I found was that I didn't want to be in the middle of Africa. Prior to that, I was simply a mere Congressman, and was not invited to dine with my betters. There is a certain protocol and format to the Dinner. It is very formal, black tie, and some of the correspondents (especially the print media) end up renting their tuxes. By tradition, the President and the Vice President, and their spouses, are invited. There is usually some form of entertainment, originally a popular musician or singer, but now that had morphed into a popular comedian, who did a stand-up routine that chewed on the President. Sometimes this was pretty good. Sometimes, like when Stephen Colbert skewered George Bush on my first go, it got pretty rocky. Colbert did almost twenty minutes that painted Bush as a moron and the press as kiss-asses, which became monumentally popular overnight with everyone except the White House and the press corps.