This blog post borders on the gossipy. But … I’ll post it anyway.
I cannot yet wrap my noodle around how Donald and Melania Trump spend their off hours together in the White House residence. I can imagine easily, for example, how preceding presidential couples might talk to each other at the dinner table at the end of the day.
Barack and Michelle Obama, George W. and Laura Bush, Bill and Hillary Clinton, George H.W. and Barbara Bush, Ronald and Nancy Reagan, Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter, Gerald and Betty Ford?
They all seemed so, um, normal. The men in those tandems — the presidents — all appeared to many Americans to be so very much like the rest of us. They all seemingly suffered the usual pains of compassion, or empathy over those who bear the burden of the decisions that come from the Oval Office.
I cannot yet figure out what drives the current president. I cannot yet grasp how he tells of his day to his wife. Or, for that matter, whether he even gives a crap about how the first lady’s day had gone.
Am I the only American who has trouble painting this picture in my mind’s eye?