JFK -- The Gift of Opportunity

I want to tell you a story about something that happened to me a looong time ago in the days of Camelot - not the fabled city of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, but the brief, yet unforgettable moment in time when John Fitzgerald Kennedy presided over a U.S. administration that represented to many of us at the time a Golden Age, marked by new hope and a promise of dreams fulfilled.

I believe the year was 1962. Washington D.C.  I was working for the executive office of the White House. Let me start out by saying that of the many individuals that worked for the President, few actually entered the White House in the course of fulfilling their daily tasks. I was fortunate, one rainy Friday afternoon, to beat those odds.

The call came in about 3 pm – a request for a specific document that the President needed to include in his upcoming address to the United Nations. It had to be delivered to the President today, now, no arguments. Keep in mind that nobody in their right mind was eager to venture out on a Friday afternoon with the rain coming down, into the soul-killing maze of congested throughways that is Washington D.C. during the workweek’s end rush hour.

I was young, fresh, and fearless – overflowing with can-do, confidence and chutzpah. I volunteered.

I couldn’t get a cab. I stood there in the entryway of the Commerce Dept. (not far from my targeted destination, but too far to walk in the downpour)…wondering how the hell I was going to get to where I needed to get in time to make any difference whatsoever.  

Despairing but not defeated, I watched a black sedan pull up outside. A well dressed white haired gentleman emerged from the back of the car, stood for a moment to get his bearings, then strode purposefully into the building followed by his driver. The gentleman was Senator Henry Cabot Lodge, Ambassador to the United Nations, here for some important meeting with some important someone, but to me he was the bringer of welcome opportunity.

As Ambassador Lodge entered the Conference Room to my left, his driver took a position in a corner across from me. Waiting.  We nodded to each other, I smiled and cut to the chase… “Waiting for Ambassador Lodge?” The driver smiled “Yes.” I smiled again, “Long wait?” “Probably about an hour, why?”

Welllllll, …I have this package for THE PRESIDENT…and I absolutely have to get it to him right away. Think you could help me out it’ll only take a few minutes.

The driver, lowered his head, thinking, and finally said “Sure. No problem…as long as it’s just a few minutes.”

We drove over to the east gate --up to the front of the white house. I waved to the driver and waved myself in past the guards with my pass. Went up to “The Fish Bowl” which was where they typically held the press conferences. I’m looking around to give the package to some one who could put it in the hands of the president.

Zilch, Zip. Nada. There was literally no one around. I walked the hallways, poking my head into rooms and around corners hoping to find someone, anyone to ease my burden. Upstairs to the main hall where the public tours were conducted and finally down at the end of the hall was a guy sitting in a chair in khaki pants and tennis shoes, navy polo shirt. Couldn’t actually see his face, but I saw an opportunity to finally deliver my package to someone on that no-show rainy Friday afternoon.

Relieved that I had actually found someone I proceeded with haste as they say to get to him before he disappeared with all the rest of the White House staff…and as I turned the corner, I got my first good look at his face.

It was The President of the United States. Sitting there with a pencil, a yellow legal pad and a can of Coca-Cola. He looked up at me and said “Can I, ehhh, help you?”

“Uhhhh. Uhmmm.” I looked around and finally said “Missst…Mister President. My name is uhhhhm Francis Maguire and I have a package here for you.”

“Thank you so much, Francis” He said.

I was accustomed to viewing this man from afar…at the center of a cavernous meeting room or cordoned presentation venue, teleprompters whirling, people darting everywhere, tension in the air and photographers clicking like locusts among the crowd. There was something vastly different about finding myself standing alone, face to face in an empty hallway with the most powerful kid in the sandbox. My heart was pumping and the powers of meaningful expression eluded me.

I presented him with the document and was singularly stunned by just how grateful he was…

“Oh thank you, Francis. I sent everybody home early today…just not a good day to be out.”

“That’s OK, Mr President. Happy to do it. And you can call me Frank.”

(“You can call me FRANK? I shrunk to the size of a pencil stub.)

“Welll, Frank, would you like a coke?”

“Sir?”

“Would you like a Coca-Cola?”

I looked at him. And blurted…”Uhhhhh, that’s OK, Mr President. I gotta get going.”

JFK looked at me and said,

“Are you sure?”

Happens all the time, right? “Take a load off, have a Coke, let’s chat awhile.”

Sure. But when THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA asks you the same question? Knocking one back with The Prez? Shooting the breeze on a Friday afternoon? One on one…just the guys? I Oh, I was sure. I was definitely sure that in my heart of hearts I wanted to stay and play with JFK. (Yeah, I know.) But somehow, it just didn’t happen that way. For some strange reason, I insisted…

"No thanks, really Mr. President…I gotta go. Don’t want to keep the driver waiting.”

And he said “ Well, all right then. Thank you, again, Frank.

“You’re welcome, sir.”

I turned and walked down the hall, turning once to look back. There he was again, sitting just back around the corner, foot lifting and dropping, lifting and dropping, lost in thought once more.

And I left. Went back to the Commerce Dept. offices. Mission accomplished. Henry Cabot Lodge got his driver back. I got into my car and braved the chaos outside, arrived home hours later to plop down in front of the evening news, pop the top on a Coca-Cola, and spend most of the night puzzling over exactly WHY I had denied myself the opportunity to talk shop with the leader of the free world.

 I could have stayed. I should have stayed. And I could not for all the money in the world buy back that moment, that opportunity. When you miss it, it’s gone.

 Listen to the voice within. Listen to your heart. Recognize each moment for what it is: a gift that has the absolute potential to change your life. Don’t get so caught up in anticipating future moments that you miss an opportunity when it is sitting right in front of you (in khaki pants and tennis shoes) and offering you a Coke and conversation.

 Lessson learned. Amen.