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Episode Fifteen:

All the President’s Men . . . and Women

Character-enhancing Lesson:
Your Right to be Wrong

 

 

Washington D.C.; January 15, 2001 . . .

 

I decided to journey to Washington, D.C. in the year 2001. I energized on the side of a country road about twenty miles south of America’s capital city. It was just past midnight. Physically and mentally exhausted, I didn’t even want to get out of the Corvette. I just leaned back in the driver’s seat and fell asleep. When I woke up the next morning, the car wouldn’t start.

“I made a mistake by leaving the headlights on last night,” I said to myself. “Now, the battery is dead.” I tried to use the vehicle’s built-in time-travel module. But the car battery had drained the power from the time-machine components, as well. To make matters worse, I had forgotten to plug the time-travel-remote unit, which needed to be re-charged, into the car’s cigarette lighter. The remote device wouldn’t function, either. I could’ve pushed the red Emergency button on the time-travel remote, which would have alerted Willie C. Light, back in Beverly Hills. Willie had told me to hit the big red button if I had any problems with the Vette or with the time-travel equipment. He said that he would, by using his spare remote, immediately come to my rescue. But I didn’t want to bother Willie for something as trivial as a dead car battery. “I’ll just thumb a ride to the nearest garage,” I said to myself.

Across the road, I saw a sign that read “All Services Just Ahead.” While I waited to hitch a ride, I ambled along the right side of the road, headed south, away from Washington D.C. Then I noticed another sign, which was posted a hundred feet or so farther down the road. This two-part sign read “Little Rock, ARK—1,500 Miles (straight ahead); Righteous City / Perfectionville—20 Miles (to the north).” Behind me, toward Washington D.C., yet another sign read “Dangerous Curves Ahead.”

A long black stretch-limo, headed south, pulled up along side of me. Suddenly, someone in the back seat rolled down the rear passenger-side window. Then an attractive middle-age woman stuck her head out the window and said, “If you’re not part of the right-wing conspiracy, we’ll give you a lift.”

I quickly accepted her kind offer despite the fact that I didn’t know what the stately lady was talking about. When I climbed into the front passenger-side seat, I momentarily glanced toward the back seat. Then it dawned on me. The woman who offered me a ride was Hillary Rodham Clinton. She was sitting next to her husband, the former President William Jefferson Clinton. After I turned my head around and peered down the road, I leaned back and pondered the situation for a couple of minutes.

I recalled from some of my history lessons, watching highlights of past news clips, etc., while I was staying with Willie C. Light in Hollywood, that Mr. Clinton had experienced some personal problems near the end of his days in the White House. I remembered that he got a little sideways with a good portion of the American public and many of his colleagues, both Democrats and Republicans, in Washington. The former President had been accused of having a sexual relationship with a former White House intern. Anyway, he might have been impeached from office had these circumstances and accusations occurred earlier in his second term of Presidency. That would have been a real shame because of all of the good that Mr. Clinton had otherwise done for Americans and humanity in general during his tenure as President. And I knew that regardless of some personal setbacks that Mr. Clinton had furthered the ideals of freedom and democracy and peace and that he had left a most positive legacy, overall, for the better benefit of people and cultures throughout the world.

After we had traveled a couple of miles or so down the road, we approached a convenience store. I asked the chauffeur, “Would you mind stopping, for a few minutes, so that I can get a soda pop?” I wasn’t all that thirsty, but I wanted to talk with God.

The chauffeur turned his head toward Mrs. Clinton as if he were seeking permission to stop at the convenience store. The former First Lady said, “Sure! That’s a good idea. Sir whoever-you-are, I’ll go with you into the store. Bill and I are also thirsty. I’ll grab some soft drinks and snacks for all of us.”

The chauffeur pulled the limo into the parking lot and stopped. Hillary and I went into the store, and I headed straight to the restroom. In reference to the former President’s personal problems, I asked, “Lord, don’t we all have the right to be wrong?”

 

God promptly appeared and replied, “Wantsalittle, I’m getting tired of meeting with you, although it may be only occasionally, in men’s restrooms. In the human form and persona of Jessica Simpson, I’m allergic to bathroom odors. Bad smells make Me nauseous and sometimes make Me sneeze. Can’t you call on Me from a more pleasant and more heavenly scented location?”

Before I could respond, God said, “Never mind! I know that you are doing your very best, at least most of the time, to please Me. . . . I can see that you’re in a bit of a predicament, right now. After all, you’re dealing with a couple of pretty important people here. Let’s talk about ‘your right to be wrong.’ Regardless of who you are, you’re going to make some mistakes in life. Even great kings and presidents are apt to stumble, personally, at times. If you don’t believe Me, you could ask Mr. Clinton!”

God followed me out of the restroom. As we strolled over to where I could get a soda, Hillary walked by. She must have been wearing some strong perfume. The Lord turned Her head toward Hillary and sneezed. Of course, God was invisible; Hillary couldn’t see Her or hear Her. But the former First Lady got hit on the right arm with some of God’s nasal spray. Hillary glanced down at her left forearm. Puzzled by where the damp, tacky substance had come, she looked around in all directions. Then Hillary gazed upward and said, “Damn, the ceiling in here must be leaking!” God and I simply laughed as Hillary quickly wiped the Lord’s nasal drops off her arm. Then Hillary proceeded with her shopping.

By then, God had turned back toward me. Suddenly, the Lord sneezed again. That time, She accidentally sprayed me, right on my forehead. With an embarrassed expression on Her face, the Lord exclaimed, “Excuse me, Wantsalittle!”

I said, “God bless you! Perhaps, You’re allergic to more than just less-fragrant bathroom odors!”

We both giggled for a few seconds. Then God continued, “As John Diefenbaker once wrote, ‘Freedom is the right to be wrong, not the right to do wrong.’ Mr. Clinton and countless others in the world need to learn that important distinction!”

God stopped to sneeze yet again. But this time She politely covered Her nose and mouth. She went on, “The educational system in most countries is predicated on the idea that ‘to err is wrong.’ Therefore, you learn to keep your mistakes at a minimum, which makes perfect sense from a practical point of view. However, if you’re not comfortable with making errors, and you constantly avoid situations where you might fail, you won’t be taking too many chances in life, either.”

“I was always taught to play it safe and not take too many chances,” I said.

The Lord replied, “The vast majority of achievers in the world are the ones who deviated from the more conservative, ‘playing-it-safe’ philosophy. Most successful people are risk-takers. They take chances, and they are not afraid to be wrong. Renowned author Elbert Hubbard said, ‘The greatest mistake a person can make is to be afraid of making one.’ Writer William Gladstone agreed, ‘No man ever became great or good except through many and great mistakes.’”

“I guess that I should quit being so afraid of making mistakes and go out on the limb more often, shouldn’t I?”

“Yes! And in terms of practicing sound human relations, you should immediately and openly admit your mistakes or wrong doings. Be totally up-front and honest. Claim the right to be wrong, and grant this right to others! Remember that nobody is perfect. Everyone errs and makes mistakes. As you think with the objective of quickly and frankly admitting your mistakes, you will increase your chances of earning others’ trust and respect.”

Before God left, She concluded, “Wantsalittle, quickly admit your next mistake and stand confidently behind your right to be wrong!”

 

Mrs. Clinton purchased a six-pack of Snickers® candy bars and four cans of Pepsi®. We left the store and got back into the limo.

The chauffeur dropped me off, about a block farther down the road, at Walt’s Auto Service. Before I went into the garage, I tapped on the driver-side rear window of the limo. Mr. Clinton immediately rolled down the window. I briefly addressed the former President. I said, “Not long ago, I saw a good movie. The name of the film was All the President’s Men. Had the popular movie, which debuted in 1976, been a flick about you, they probably would’ve called it ‘All the President’s Men . . . and Women’! Sir Bill, you pulled a real ‘boner.’ You’re not alone! Virtually every one of us, at one time or another, has made a big mistake. As I’m pretty sure that you would do for me, I grant you the right to be wrong. But do yourself a big favor: The next time that you screw up, openly and promptly admit your wrong doing.”

I hesitated for a second, and then I concluded my comments to Mr. Clinton. I said, “I’ve learned that people, by and large, are more forgiving, and they generally have more trust and respect for someone who, after making a mistake or after using poor personal judgment, is honest and straightforward about his or her error or shortcoming. Immediately ‘coming clean’ usually neutralizes people’s defenses, softens their reactions, and allows others the opportunity to both identify with and appreciate a person’s admittedly human nature. Anyhow, Mr. Clinton, thank you for all of your positive contributions and accomplishments!”

Mr. Clinton asked, “Just who in the world are you, young man? And why are you dressed up in that knight’s costume?”

“My name is Sir Wantsalittle Morefromlife,” I replied. “But you can just call me ‘Wantsalittle.’ I’m from Camelot, here on an extended vacation, of sorts. It’s a long story.”

Mrs. Clinton overheard me. She instantly turned toward me. Her eyes appeared as big as golf balls. Hillary yelled, “WHO did you say you were? . . . WHERE did you say you’re from?”

Mr. Clinton wasn’t that surprised. He interjected, “I had a feeling, all along, that you were more than just some penniless wanderer, hitching a ride. . . . Well, Sir Wantsalittle, you are quite a perceptive fellow. I simply want to thank you, sincerely, for your good advice! Maybe our paths will cross again, someday. I’d like to know a lot more about you!”

Meanwhile, the former First Lady had gotten out of the limo. She walked around the front of the car, toward the driver-side rear door, and stopped, right beside me. Out of pure curiosity, Hillary briefly looked me over, from head to toe, and said, “Indeed! I’d like to know more about you, too! If you’re from Camelot, how come we haven’t heard of you before now? Weren’t you one of King Arthur’s ‘Knights of the Round Table’?”

“Yes, I was! You could say that I’m a ‘late bloomer.’”

Mrs. Clinton exclaimed, sarcastically, “Yeah, about 1,400 years late, I’d say!”

The former President said, “Let me guess—you journeyed here, to twenty-first century America, in some kind of a time machine, didn’t you?”

“Right on, Mr. Clinton! I’ve been traveling around, throughout the United States and elsewhere, in various time periods, for the past few weeks. I’m on a quest to become more worldly, and I want to feel and act like a king. I don’t have time, right now, to go into all of the details. But I’d be glad to tell you all about it, later, if you’re still interested.”

“I definitely would be interested!” the former President exclaimed. “I’m more than just a little curious to find out a lot more about you! . . . Wantsalittle, you seem to know a lot about me. Don’t be offended, but how would you, a genuine knight from the Land of Camelot—someone who claims to be vacationing here in modern-day America and elsewhere—how could you be so knowledgeable of recent American history and my social life, etc.?”

“Have you ever heard of a man by the name of ‘Willie C. Light’?”

Hillary asked, “Isn’t Willie C. Light an author? He writes romance novels, doesn’t he?”

“Yes! And Willie is also a Hollywood stunt-double. He lives in Beverly Hills. Anyway, he’s the man who taught me a lot about contemporary history when I first arrived here from Camelot.”

Mr. Clinton said, “There’s one more thing, Wantsalittle: Where did you learn to converse so articulately? I mean, anybody short of God, Himself, couldn’t have taught you how to communicate so fluently in such a brief period of time. There’s someone else, besides Willie C. Light, your tutor, who you’re not telling us about. Come on now, Wantsalittle. Fess up! What is your little secret? What is it about you that both of us, and the whole rest of the world, for that matter, would love to find out?”

“That all depends on what your definition of the term ‘is’ is,” I responded, cleverly. “And where have I heard those questions, or questions very similar to them, before?” Hillary and I laughed at my light-hearted comments. The former President, on the other hand, reflected a momentary expression of shock. He failed to see the humor of my stinging remarks, although they were amusingly intended. Before Mr. Clinton could reply, I continued, “I can tell you this much: I have been divinely blessed. My contemporary mentor, other than Willie C. Light, is someone who most would consider to be ‘highly’ qualified. Perhaps, after my time-traveling journey has ended, I’ll divulge some of what is now more confidential information. And maybe I’ll share my wacky adventures with others who may be inspired, to some meaningful degree, by my unusual story. . . . I better get going now. I’ve got to get a mechanic to help me with my car. Meeting both of you has been a real pleasure!”

“Wantsalittle, same here!” Hillary exclaimed. As Mrs. Clinton turned and walked around the front of the limo, she bumped her left hand against the right-front fender. Her wedding ring jarred loose from her index finger; the ring fell right into the middle of a dirty, sweat-stained, old, baseball cap, which was lying on the ground, upside down, near the front of the car.

I asked Hillary, “Do you think that you would ever run for the office of President one day? You know, toss your ring in the hat, so to speak?” Mrs. Clinton laughed, hysterically.

“Well, who knows what my future has in store?” the former First Lady replied, after she retrieved her wedding band and proceeded to get back in the car.

Mr. Clinton then said, “Wantsalittle, try to keep us posted, will you?”

“Okay! And it might be educational, if not also entertaining, that you keep us posted on some of your more interesting activities and personal affairs, too!” Mr. Clinton simply shook his head, from side to side.

As I slowly walked away from the vehicle, and before they drove off, I heard both the former President and the former First Lady speak with each other. Mrs. Clinton said, “You know, Bill, that nice young man’s first name would more appropriately suit you!”

Mr. Clinton chuckled, then he spoke with his loyal, faithful, and good-hearted wife. Apologetically, he said, “Honey, I’m made out of flesh and blood, like any other man. Obviously, I’ve made some mistakes. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

“Yes!” Hillary replied. “I will forgive you!”

(The moral of this episode: Nobody is perfect. Claim your right to be wrong, and grant this right to others. Readily and openly admit your mistakes. If you do, you are more likely to earn others’ trust and respect!)

 

 

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