The Mail-Journal, Volume 14, Number 30, Milford, Kosciusko County, 17 August 1977 — Page 17

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A family picnic at the White House

By MARJ FITHIAN An invitation to the congressional family picnic at the White House came as a pleasant surprise to the Fithian household. Most invitations require consideration and a checking of the family calendar, but for this one the reply was easy. “Put us down,” we all agreed. One of the first questions we had about the exciting affair was what we should wear. The invitation said “informal.” But how casual is “informal” at the White House? We decided that we could trust the President to follow his own suggestion, so we decided to do the same. “Informal" it would be. When we arrived at the gate to East Executive Drive as directed, Floyd said, “We can’t go in here — it’s blocked off." Three policemen stood in brisk attendance. But a quick glance at the congressional permit number on our car prompted the largest

of them to call cheerfully, "Right this way, sir!" We parked and walked quickly on the White House lawn. We soon found ourselves among many other congressional families. Floyd greeted his colleagues and called them by name, and when we were out of earshot he would explain to us, “He is the man who replaced Andy Young," or “He is a freshman member from Texas." Floyd stopped to introduce us to several of his friends, the most engaging of whom was Secretary of Agriculture Bob Bergland. They had a lot of business to discuss, for the farm bill was on the house floor at that time, and Floyd wanted to talk to the secretary about using grain for fuel and the administration’s proposed sugar subsidy program, which Floyd opposed. For our son John and me, this would be our first meeting with Jimmy Carter. Floyd and Cindy already had met him on several

occasions. We kept wishing that our younger daughter, Judy, who is counselling at a camp in Pennsylvania this summer, could be with us. It wasn’t difficult to find the president. A large cluster of people surrounded him, including many members of the press with flashing cameras and TV equipment There were a gaggle of secret service agents. My first glimpse of the president gave me the rush of excitement and awe that I had anticipated. He moved through the guests quietly, greeting each with a warm smile and relaxed handshake. And he hadn’t disappointed us — he was wearing a Levi shirt and neat gray slacks. Later we saw Rosalyn. When 1 greeted her, I reminded her that we had been together at the Purdue University voter registration rally last fall — which she said she remembered. We had a difficult time getting into the line for food because Floyd wanted to chat with so many of his colleagues. But our attention was diverted from the conversations when Cindy spotted Amy Carter getting her hamburger

She was in her bare feet, pink shorts and a T-shirt, paying no attention at all to the TV cameras and spotlights. She darted for the table with baked beans, cole slaw, iced tea and Coke. The press people tripped all over one another as they tried to keep up with her butterfly pace. Amy’s little pack of friends followed her later as they merrily climbed over the fire truck that apparently had been parked there for just that purpose, and then up into her famous treehouse. Congressman Dave Evans’ three-year-old daughter Jennifer was so excited when she saw Amy that she ran up to her, grabbed her arm and shouted, “Amy Carter!” Amy turned and put her arm around her. An old-fashioned calliope lent a circus atmosphere to the evening, and a small band shell was the stage for square dancers and folk singers — who even sang an original song written for the President. Jimmy and Rosalynn came together to hear the song as the President ate a sherbet bar. John snapped pictures of the First Family, and we all talked with Tim Kraft of Noblesville, who is now the president’s appointments secretary. He had been in the 2nd District a few days earlier to speak on Floyd’s behalf. Falling darkness began to indicate the close of a marvelous event. Floyd was very tired from a hard day of work on the food stamps section of the farm bill, but Cindy and John encouraged us to walk down to see the lighted fountains before leaving. It was an incredible view, and I couldn’t help but think that this was “being on the inside, looking out!” On our way back up the sloping White House law, we noticed that the volleyball net was no longer in use. At the suggestion that we play for a while, John said, “No, let’s go.” But Cindy insisted. “How often do you get to play volleyball on the White House lawn?" she asked. So we dropped our camera, purse and popcorn, and in the privacy of the neardarkness our family played volleyball for the first time since the last history department picnic at Purdue. We hated to leave, but we had to get Floyd home for a few hours sleep before the next busy day. We left the volleyball net behind and walked back to our car. As we walked along, I posed a question to Cindy and John. Was all that leafleting, phoning and recruiting during the campaign worth it? They agreed with Floyd and me, as we looked back through the iron fence at where we had been, that it was certainly worth all the effort we had put in. Dad reassured mom that in one way he was proud of their son’s report card. “With grades like those, you know he wasn’t cheating!"

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Wed., August 17,1977— THE MAIL-JOURNAL

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