I grew up in President Bush’s bedroom. After the first George Bush was elected to Congress, he and my stepfather concluded a deal over the telephone whereby we bought their house. The two of them shared a laugh about being the only two guys in Houston who actually needed seven bedrooms. That house doesn’t exist anymore, but the sense of linkage, remote yet palpable, remains. We were fostered by parallel universes, W and I. We both came from “nice” families.
Download in 7 page .pdf. Posted with permission. To see or not see, to be or not be nice, that is the question that must not arise. We just are nice; the alternative is unthinkable and rampant. To not see is not a moral act. It is simply our habitus.