Oh, hello there.  You look great.  Here, try one of these.   I was just telling Martha about Wyoming.

The Nixon Presidency spanned my entire high school career, from 1968 through 1973, formative years for a young girl from Wyoming surrounded by high desert sage, and came to an end with his dramatic resignation just as I started college.

The dusty windburned Republicans who surrounded me would likely have thrown Mr. Nixon a proper Western feast, a barbeque of beef on coals in the ground for a few days, and all the fixin's.  I'm not sure they'd have sprung for Rocky Mountain Oysters, too much of a delicacy for an indelicate presidency.  Beans?  Yes, because they talk too much and get people in trouble.  All sloshed down with some good Western beer, like Coors or Oly, by the keg.  I'm sure you know what I mean.

The guys who came home from Vietnam might have more likely figured on a different menu.  That was a bad time.

My dad, a Democrat, never cared much for our 37th President, but he taught me to respect all of them, regardless of politics.  (Okay, I did catch him calling Nixon 'Tricky Dick' a lot.)   He'd have had a dinner for Humphrey and Mondale.  Minnesota milquetoast.  The Democrats had no one to blame but themselves that they couldn't hold the White House after the LBJ years.  Yes, you're right.  Now, I like Walter Mondale, even shared an elevator with him in recent years in the Minneapolis airport, as he was traveling incognito in fishing clothing and a baseball cap.  But I digress.

Like I said, the folks back home would have thrown a proper barbeque for Mr. Nixon, but I ran far afield and sailed the seven seas, and found my palate went past Mormon cooking and green Jell-O and all that good stuff.  

In honor of his memory, and the legacy of his beloved dog, Checkers, who brought a tear to everyone's eye, along with his wife Pat's Republican cloth coat, I decided to raise my glass to our 37th President and throw a gala dinner instead.  Nixon was a great sport, and even went on Laugh-In before Obama was a glimmer in David Letterman's eye.  Yeah, Goldie Hawn.  Ha.  Sock-it-to-em.

I'm hoping Mr. Kissinger will come.  And Mr. Dean.  Jeb Magruder.  Barbara Walters.  Dan Rather maybe.  Secretary Clinton?  Absolutely.  The president's daughters, Julie Nixon Eisenhower and her sister, Tricia Nixon Cox, and their families.  Remember that White House wedding?  That was something.

Ah, look, the guests are just beginning to arrive.  I must go.  You make yourself at home, and fill your glass. 

Here's to you, Mr. Nixon, and may you, and your beloved Checkers, rest in peace. 

 Gala Dinner Celebrating the Rise and Fall of

 

 

 

 

 Menu

 

 checkerboard pie  Because everyone should keep their dog