Day 9: Athens Banner-Herald first to "break" the story

Dear Family and Friends,

This morning I (Helen) will give Chip a short break while I send you the following.

I have been thinking about the many people – some that I know and some that I don’t – who are following along with us. God bless you all. It occurs to me that some who don’t know George and me personally, but are friends of Skeeter and Chip and their families, may be confused at two different names you’re seeing – “George” and “Irvin.” They are one and the same. When growing up he was called by his middle name “Irvin” and when he went in the army they required that soldiers go by their first name, so everyone who has met him since that time know him as “George.”

Sunday morning in the Bush household always begins with coffee, cereal for George, an apple fritter for Helen, and reading Darrell Huckaby’s column in the Athens Banner-Herald before getting ready for church. This morning I was the only one following the usual schedule as I got ready to go to the hospital to see my “other half.”

Darrell is the author of a bunch of books, and the Bush household has a well-read copy of each. Two are hilarious novels involving UGA football, two are non-fiction, and several are collections of his columns. His writing will remind you of the late Lewis Grizzard – from humorous to heart-warming and everywhere in between.

Pardon us for thinking that today’s column is Darrell’s finest! When George can read it for himself, he will truly appreciate these words from someone whose friendship we treasure. For those of you who don’t live in the Athens Banner-Herald’s coverage area, here is the column for you to enjoy.

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Being Friends With the Bush Family Has Plenty of Benefits
By Darrell Huckaby

I will admit it. I screen my calls.

You see, I have an aversion to talking on the telephone. I don't know when this developed because as a teenager – and as a young man – I suffered from black cord fever. I spent exorbitant amounts of time with a telephone receiver held to my ear and the receiver was, of course, attached to the phone itself by a black cord.

If you are younger than 40, get someone to explain why.

Not now, though. Now I answer the phone begrudgingly, if at all. When it rings, I look at the little machine to see who is calling. If it's not Barbara Dooley or Ed McMahon, there is a good chance that I will let the machine get it.

I'm not a snob. I just have this thing about talking on the phone.

One day, here a while back (which is Southern for it might have been a few months or a few years ago), the phone rang and I glanced at the caller ID. George Bush was calling. Said so right there on the little printout. I answered the phone.

As it turns out, it wasn't George Bush at all. It was his wife. No. Not Laura. Helen. She was inviting me to speak to her Sunday school class at Mars Hill Baptist Church over in Watkinsville. I was, of course, happy for the invitation and more than willing to comply. Things must have gone well because I have been invited back many times. Once I even got to go to the Bush's basement – which resembles the sunken level of the Butts-Mehre building, by the way – to help celebrate one of George's milestone birthdays.

I had a lot of fun telling people that I was invited to entertain at George Bush's birthday bash. If any of them thought I was talking about the president, well – that was their error.

The bottom line is that I have come to count the Bushes and other good people of mars Hill as my very good friends – even if they have heard all my stories and don't invite me to speak there anymore. This is why I was so distressed last week when I got an e-mail from Helen telling me that George had fallen, while working in the yard, and suffered an injury to his brain.

He is still in pretty bad shape and is in, as I understand it, the critical care unit at St. Mary's Hospital here in Athens. He cannot have visitors, but he can have prayers and his family and his lint-head friend – that would be me – covet yours on his behalf. So if you believe in prayer, please keep George Bush in yours. And if you don't do that sort of thing, keep him and his family in your thoughts.

George is bound and determined to achieve a full recovery, and I am happy to report that neither he nor his family has lost a sense of humor throughout his current ordeal. When the EMTs came to his house after George fell, his son warned the paramedics that "if he tells you his name is George Bush, he is not delusional. It really is."

One of his son's co-workers at the Coca-Cola Co. – a Mr. Jimmy Carter – created quite a stir when he attempted to organize a prayer service at a local church. I can hear the secretary now, covering up the mouthpiece and saying, "Some nut claiming to be Jimmy Carter wants to arrange a service for George Bush."

And they tell me that the hospital staff has been after both his sons – whom they have dubbed the Bush Brothers – to bring in the secret family recipe for baked beans.

According to Reader's Digest, laughter is the best medicine, so it couldn't hurt. Nor could those prayers I solicited earlier.

And to George and his family – when you overcome this thing, I'll help lead the celebration – and when you call to tell me, I promise I will answer the phone.

(Ed. Note ... if you would like to visit the column online at the Athens Banner-Herald, the link is http://onlineathens.com/stories/090207/news_20070902040.shtml)