Decision Points

forces had worked. And we had moved America’s health care system in the right direction: away from government control and toward the choices and competition of a private market system, which is the best way to control costs in the long run.

    “I’m optimistic,” I told Dad as we hunted quail in South Texas on New Year’s Day, 2004. “This election is going to come down to who knows how to lead, who will take on the big issues, and who can keep America safe.”
    Dad was concerned. For months, he had watched the Democratic presidential candidates take swings at me every day. The poundings were having an impact. My approval ratings had topped 90 percent after 9/11 and 75 percent after the liberation of Iraq. By the end of 2003, I had dropped to the fifties in some polls. Dad had seen the pattern before. His approval rating had skyrocketed in 1991, then crashed before the 1992 election.
    I assured him that our mutual friend Karl Rove had developed a solid campaign strategy. “If we do this right, it will come out just fine,” I said. “Especially if they nominate Howard Dean .”
    I knew the Democratic front-runner, the former governor of Vermont, from events we had attended in the 1990s. Dean was loud, shrill, and undisciplined. I was pulling hard for him to get the nomination.
    Unfortunately, Dean’s lead evaporated before he won a single delegate. Senator John Kerry of Massachusetts claimed an upset victory in Iowa, won the New Hampshire primary, and cruised to the nomination. A Vietnam veteran and four-term senator, Kerry was a hard worker, a polished debater, and a tough campaigner. I considered him a formidable opponent.
    Kerry also had weaknesses. He had the process-oriented mindset of alongtime legislator and a voting record that qualified as the most liberal in the Senate. In the fall of 2003, he had voted against an $87 billion bill to fund troops in Iraq and Afghanistan. Shortly after he clinched the nomination, my campaign ran an ad highlighting his position. Kerry responded, “I actually did vote for the $87 billion before I voted against it.”
    I spoke to Karl the moment I heard the sound bite. “There’s our opening,” I said. “The American people expect their president to take a clear stand and defend it, especially when it comes to supporting troops in combat.” We grabbed the “flip-flop” theme and ran with it for the rest of the campaign.

    On March 10, 2004, I received a letter from Jenna, who was in her senior year at the University of Texas. In 2000, neither Jenna nor Barbara had attended a single campaign event. They had made it clear they wanted nothing to do with politics. So it was quite a surprise to read Jenna’s words:
    Dear Dad,
    I had a vivid dream last night, a dream so vivid I woke in tears. Although I am not yet as spiritual as you, I have taken this dream as a sign. You have worked your entire life to give Barbara and me everything we have ever wanted or needed. You have given us love, support; and I know you have included us in every decision you have ever made.
    You and Mom have taught us the meaning of unconditional love. I watched as Mom selflessly, gently gave herself to Pa as he suffered. And I watched you give a year of your life to Gampy; I watched your shared pain on election night. At age twenty-two, I finally have learned what that selfless pain must have felt like.
    I hate hearing lies about you. I hate when people criticize you. I hate that everybody can’t see the person I love and respect, the person that I hope I someday will be like.
    It is because of all of these reasons that I have decided that if you want me to I would love to work full-time for you in the fall. Please think about it, talk to Mom about it, and get back to me. For now I have stoppedapplying for jobs in New York. I know I may be a little rough around the edges, but with the proper training I could get people to see the Dad I love.
    This may seem like a rushed, impulsive decision, but I have been thinking about it constantly. I want to try to give you something for the twenty-two years you have given me.
    In my dream, I didn’t help you. And I watched somebody win who isn’t supposed to. And I cried, I cried for you, for our country, and for my guilt. I don’t want my dream to become reality, so if I can help in any way please let me. We can talk more about it during Easter.
    I love you and am so proud of you,
    Love,
    Jenna
    I still choke up when I read her sweet words, which