THE BUCK STOPS...

The night hasn't finished its long and restless vigil quite yet. No poetic thunderstorms or Clintonian phone calls at 3:00 a.m. Just a sleepless and disturbing expanse of darkness and silence which refuses to produce much-needed refreshment to a troubled President.

Finally acknowledging the night as the winner of the battle, the President slips on his slippers and robe and shuffles from the room to the sanctuary of the living quarters where a glass of juice quenches his dry throat. Thumbing through a pile of required reading doesn't appeal to him, so he crosses to the window to gaze out on an empty garden, illuminated only for security. The winter's surprise of a blanket of snow has obscured every shrub and tree, refusing to allow even the beauty of a well-preened garden to bring peace to his troubled heart.

"Gets a little lonely, doesn't it?" the voice from the shadows asks.

Jolted by the sound, the President's heart skips a beat and a moment of fear grips his otherwise unshaken demeanor.

"Who's there?" he manages to speak.

"Just a fellow traveler who thought a late-night conversation might be in order," the voice responded. The speaker stepped from the shadows into the dim light of the single illuminated lamp on the table hugging the sofa. "To use a phrase I hear a lot these days, 'Been there...done it.' "

The President couldn't believe his eyes.

"President Truman? Is that you?"

"Oh come on, Barack, let's drop the formalities. I know that it bothers you as much as it did me to have all that 'Mr. President' stuff. I'm Harry, for God's sake."

A slight smile crosses Obama's face, only superficially masking his anxiety at experiencing a ghost. It isn't exactly in his theological makeup to acknowledge the existence of such beings. But at this moment, it is clear that he is sharing a space with the long-deceased former President and former resident of this same house.

"Why are you here?" he manages to stammer.

"That's not the most hospitable thing I've ever heard," Harry stated bluntly, "but I'll forgive you this time. I suspect seeing me like this isn't something that you would expect. I thought it was time to drop in on you, and the others agreed that the timing was right. I was selected to bring the message."

"The others? There's a group of you?"

Harry nodded and took off his straw fedora and placed it on a chair.

"Yes, we get together all the time. It's amazing how we have found that we have so much in common now that we are away from the battleground of politics. I think it's fair to say that we are more alike in our thinking than anyone would believe...even you."

Barack gestured to a chair and then allowed himself to collapse onto the sofa, his legs feeling a little queasy.

"What did you mean when you said, they thought the timing was right?"

"Well," Harry said, "we wanted to wait until the glamour of your election wore off and you were able to hear my words in your head and your heart. That first year is a tough one, sorting out all that crap that came up during the campaign. We think you've been handed enough reality lately to be open to a suggestion or two."

"By all means. Let her rip," Barack quipped. "I'm always open to suggestion."

"A little too much, as a matter of fact," Harry responded without a moment's pause. "That's one of the points they want me to make. Cut the bipartisan baloney and get on with the business of being the elected Chief Executive of this crazy country. You're wasting your time trying to create a legacy of mediator between the right and the left. It ain't gonna happen, as we used to say in Missouri."

"I'm beginning to get that picture," President Obama agreed.

"You could never tell it from what you're saying out there, Barack. Your words and your gut don't seem to be in sync. It's like you don't believe you were elected. For God's sake, it was a landslide! The people of this country were serious when they voted for you in massive numbers. You excited a part of this country that has never spoken out before. But it feels like you've forgotten the sound of their voices and the tears in their eyes when you were elected. They think you've forgotten them."

Barack slumped into the cushions of the sofa. For the next twenty minutes the former President pummelled him with advice, much of which smarted beyond anything anyone had said to him in a long time. Finally, however, it was time for Truman to go. The light of day was emerging, and soon the room would be filled with the sound of children's voices and a staff prepared to provide for Obama's every need.

"One last thing...a personal note," Truman said. "Get on with that stupid 'Don't ask, don't tell' thing. If necessary, use your executive privilege to make it happen. Don't wait for everyone to agree with you. They never will. I had to swallow and take the abuse when I signed the document allowing Negroes to serve openly. Best thing I ever did. Your people are waiting, and you're the only one who can give them what they want. Too much rancor in the Congress, and that isn't going to change right away, I'm sorry to tell you."

Obama nodded in agreement. "One question. Did you really say 'The buck stops here?' "

"Doesn't matter, Barack. You know it's true. Get on with it."

President Obama looked out the window at the growing light of day. When he looked back at President Truman, there was no one there. Message delivered.


Graphic credit: www.ng.mil/.../presidential/truman.html