So I met with my good friend George W. Bush again this afternoon, and we caught up on old times. Our conversation, as we shook hands, went like this:

Me: We're praying for you.
GW: Thank you.

I won't reiterate the full story, because it's basically the same as the one meticulously documented in the post I'm replying to, from 2002. Then, he was campaigning in New Hampshire on behalf of Senator John Sununu, Jr., our two House members, and the libertarian-leaning Republican gubernatorial candidate Craig Benson. This time he also said a few words about these same men, but primarily, of course, he was campaigning for himself.

It struck me again how vibrant, charismatic, and downright eloquent a speaker he is in front of a live audience. I don't know what happens to him when he's reading from a TelePrompTer, or (less severely) in unscripted debates. Even more confusingly, I don't know why televised broadcasts of his live appearances don't quite convey the essence of the man, but in person, up close and personal (I was roughly 20 feet away, in the front), he's dynamic and engaging. He comes across very much like the classic, old-school ideal politician: charismatic and ingratiating without being so utterly slimy as many modern politicians.

There is, of course, an element of showmanship involved. The unexpected thrill of the event was seeing Air Force One pull right up next to the hangar, fully visible to the crowd gathered within because the huge sliding doors were open this time. I didn't realize it, but that aircraft is gorgeously painted. Anyway, the doors open, and the stairway is secured, and a voice comes through the microphone announcing our two senators, representatives, and governor, and they all walk out first. It's a great image, but you know they didn't all just fly in from Washington, or whatever the last campaign stop was. In reality, they got taxied over from the terminal next door. Hey, if I were offered the ride, I'd have taken it, too.

New Hampshire is inexplicably close in its recent Presidential elections. It doesn't make any sense to me, because conservatives running for governor, the legislature, or the U.S. Congress tend to win comfortable victories. Our local laws tend to live up to the values expressed in our state motto, Live Free Or Die, enough that the Free Staters chose this state to move to, finding it nicely aligned with their own interests. (The paradox, of course, is that the Free State Project is all about reforming local government in accordance with the principles of small government and freedom, yet they chose the state least in need of it.)

Why New Hampshire lands in the center, leaning left, in the current polls about the Presidential race, I do not know. Kerry, a senator from the political rival on our southern border, most certainly does not espouse any of the principles upon which New Hampshire's constitution and laws are built. There's a reason New Hampshire's taxes are among the lowest in the country, and Kerry's home state is known, not only among New Hampshirites, as "Taxachusetts."

Anyway, I've been standing in one spot on a concrete floor for about four and a half hours straight, so my feet are pretty tired. I don't know how cashiers at WalMart do it all day every day.

I got a T-shirt out of the deal, though. It's a long-sleeved blue shirt that says, "Victory '04" inside an outline of the state of New Hampshire. Unfortunately it doesn't say who the victory is supposed to be for, so I'm not sure what kind of a statement it makes.

I had a brief conversation with one of the Secret Service agents about that shirt, actually. As Bush was making his way along the line of folks, there were a good seven or eight secret service agents huddled around him, skimming the crowd as he went. One was directly behind him, ready to offer bodily support and to remove the arm of anybody who hugged him too long or tightly. Well, remove the arm from around his neck, not detach the thing. Anyway, when the first secret service guy got to me, I was angled with my right side in front, so I could get the proper hand in there, and my left hand was holding the T-shirt back behind me. The secret service agent asked me what I had in my hand, and I showed it to him, and he felt the wad of cloth to make sure I didn't have anything hidden inside.

I did not, which was lucky for me, because if I had accidentally had a firearm in there, I'm pretty sure the sharpshooter up in the rafters on the ceiling would have taken me out right then and there. These days you can't be too careful about not having weapons in front of the President.

Then again, maybe they would have made an exception for me, because surely the President knows me well enough by now to know I wouldn't hurt him. After all, George W. and I go way back.