The President was going to present Robert with a Medal of Freedom. “It will make a great chapter in your book,” Greta had said to me at breakfast, before Tom arrived at our house. “I’m not sure Tom is getting the right impression of us as a family.” I was pretty sure Tom was getting exactly the right impression: our family was one big photo op. Once upon a time, families lived off the crops they grew on their land. Later, people began to live off what they could produce with their hands and minds. Our family seemed to live off having our pictures taken. It was as if we were some strange species from another world that would die if people didn’t see our images on TV or in the newspaper. Every time our names were read or our pictures were seen, our lives would be prolonged until the next crisis of “lack of exposure” threatened us. Whatever impression Tom had been getting of us, I was ecstatic that Greta was planning on inviting him to come to Washington—which made what happened next all the more enjoyable to witness.
