Former President Jimmy Carter died last week, but only after truly living for more than a century.  He was a peanut farmer, a graduate of the Naval Academy, a nuclear engineer, a State Senator, Governor, and President.  He was also a Sunday School teacher, humanitarian, poet, author, and holder of the Nobel Peace Prize.

He was a man with many titles, and the complexity that comes with so many life experiences that few will ever achieve. So few of us really understand them, despite knowing about them, reading about them, voting for or against them, and perhaps too often criticizing them.

As regular readers of this column are aware, I was honored and privileged to spend some quality time with the Carters and their close knit group of friends and family in Plains over a period of about 18 months, seven to eight years ago.  At the time I was still very active in partisan politics as a Republican, both as a columnist and blogger as well as a campaign consultant.  

My focus then, as it is now, was squarely on the state of Georgia.  Politics and parties were changing rapidly at that time.  I guess they always are, whether we realize it or not. I remain grateful for being granted multiple conversations to talk to and listen to someone who at that time had over nine decades of life experience, and had a role in the state getting to where it was and is.  I also was keenly aware I was talking to one of the very few, and only one of a half dozen or so people living, who had for four years worn the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

There is no way to properly memorialize someone with a century of life experiences, much less President Carter’s life experiences, in a confined space such as this.  I’ll instead try to leave you with a few things I learned about him during our time together.

First off, he’s an intelligent man. That should go without saying, but those who judge politics based on hindsight and without the understanding of the vast responsibilities of attempting to change the culture of Washington against the wishes of the permanent bureaucratic class, the opposition party, and the establishment of his own party.  

In his first book, Why Not The Best?, he outlined his qualifications to be President. In the mid 1970’s the American public nor the press corps had dumbed down national candidacies to “who would you like to have a beer with?”.  We demanded our brightest and best.

President Carter graduated 59^th in his class of 820, a fact that he was justifiably proud. Yet it was a question from the Navy Admiral who was over the then developing nuclear program that framed that first book, and the rest of his life: “Why not the best?”.

President Carter understood, and wanted us to understand, that no matter what we’ve accomplished, or no matter where we may have fallen short, we were still obligated to do our best. 

Sometimes the results are great. Sometimes the subjective judgements are harsh. You can always move forward with your head held high when you know you’ve given your best.

President Carter was kind, and his post-Presidency persona was quite folksy, but he still maintained military protocols. He channeled them into his acts of kindness and respect that could be the model for any chapter of the junior league.

While most of my visits to Plains were by invitation, I made a couple of unannounced visits to Maranatha Baptist Church for his Sunday School and the follow on service and sermon.  On one of those visits, the “overflow room” was already filling up so gave up my seat and went to the back, where I found his niece Kim.  

We continued talking while Miss Jan and Jill Stuckey worked to find seats for everyone not yet in the sanctuary.  When it was time for Sunday School, all of the “overflow” guests had been wedged into pews.  

President Carter made sure he visited the overflow room prior to giving his lessons. People traveled long distances to hear his lessons, and he wanted them to have a personal experience even if they ended up watching it on closed circuit TV.  When he came out to the room, it was just me and his niece – who now leads these lessons herself.

He spoke to us briefly then entered the sanctuary for the lesson. A few minutes later, Jill emerged to apologize to me on behalf of the former President.  It was an effusive apology for him not calling me by name.

I had only met him in person twice at that point.  President Carter had thousands of friends and many times that number of acquaintances.  I had no expectation that he would be able to put name to face then or at any follow on meeting.  

He held himself to a higher standard.  He wanted to make sure I felt welcomed and important, and that it mattered that I was there.  He cared about that.

He wanted everyone to feel that way.  Whether you needed a home, whether you were suffering from guinea worm half way around the globe, or whether you just wanted you and your family to live in peace.  

He cared.  And for that, he gave his best.  And for that, I appreciate him immensely. 

About Charlie Harper