Living History Unknown (best books to read fiction .txt) 📖

Morris couldn’t resist the challenge. He quietly designed a set of questions to measure the national mood and shared the results of his polling, which were discouraging. Despite the giant economic strides Bill had made―the deficit was finally coming back under control, hundreds of thousands of jobs had been created and the economy was starting to grow―the recovery hadn’t fully taken hold and most people just didn’t believe it yet. Many who did wouldn’t give Democrats any credit for the turnaround. The party, Morris told us, was in deep trouble, and the best hope for turning things around would be for Democratic candidates to emphasize the concrete victories that people could acknowledge and applaud, such as the Brady bill, Family Leave and AmeriCorps. He argued that doing this might encourage Democratic turnout. Instead of running against the Contract, which was what most Democratic candidates were doing, we needed to be more assertive about Democratic accomplishments. Bill agreed and tried to persuade congressional leaders to claim credit for what they had done and to defend themselves against the GOP onslaught.

Two weeks before Election Day, Bill and I took a brief break from our concerns about the midterm election and traveled to the Middle East, where Bill witnessed the signing of the Israeli-Jordanian peace agreement. And I celebrated my forty-seventh birthday in three different countries-Egypt, Jordan and Israel. On October 26, I saw the Pyramids at Giza in the morning light, and while Bill met with President Mubarak and Yasir Arafat to discuss the Middle East peace process, President Mubarak’s wife, Suzanne, hosted a birthday breakfast, complete with cake, in a dining room overlooking the Sphinx.

Hosni and Suzanne Mubarak are an impressive couple. Suzanne has a master’s degree in sociology and has been an energetic advocate for improved opportunities and education for women and children in Egypt, despite some opposition to these efforts from Islamic fundamentalists. President Mubarak has the manner and visage of an ancient Pharaoh-and is occasionally compared to one today. He has held power since the 1981 assassination of Anwar Sadat. In those decades he has tried to govern Egypt while controlling Muslim extremists who have made several attempts to assassinate him. Like other Arab leaders whom I have met, Mubarak recognizes the dilemma he faces in governing a country beset by tensions between a Western-oriented educated minority that wants to pursue modernization and the more conservative majority, whose fear over the demise of its values and traditional ways of life can be politicized. Walking that tightrope―and staying alive―is a daunting challenge, and Mubarak’s tactics occasionally have led to criticisms that he is too autocratic.

We flew from Cairo to the Great Rift Valley in Jordan for the signing of the peace treaty between Jordan and Israel, which ended an official state of war between the two countries. The desert setting at the Arava crossing on the border reminded me of the scenery in The Ten Commandments. But the pageantry and grandeur of the event made for a story more dramatic than any out of Hollywood. Two visionary leaders were taking personal and political risks for peace. Battle-hardened soldiers, Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin and King Hussein bin Talal never gave up on their hopes for a better future for their people.

One did not need to know that Hussein was descended from the Prophet Muhammad to be struck immediately by his arresting presence and innate nobility. Though small in stature, he had a commanding air. He conveyed a unique combination of gentleness and power. His speech was deferential, marked by the liberal use of “sir” and “ma’am.” Yet his ready smile and modest manner underscored his dignity and strength. He was a survivor who intended to carve out a place for his nation in a dangerous neighborhood.

His partner in life, Queen Noor, the former Lisa Najeeb Halaby, is an Americanborn Princeton graduate. Her father, the former Chairman of Pan American Airlines, was of Syrian-Lebanese descent, and her mother was Swedish. Noor, who has a degree in architecture and urban planning, was working as Director of Planning for Royal Jordanian Airlines when she met the King, fell in love and married him. She glowed with pride and affection in his presence and that of their children, laughing easily and often with them. She became deeply involved in the educational and economic development of her adopted country and represented its positions and aspirations in America and around the world.

With her intelligence and charm and the backing of her husband, she nudged her nation toward a more modern approach to women’s and children’s issues. Bill and I looked forward to any private time we could schedule with the King and Queen.

On that blistering hot afternoon in the Rift Valley, Noor, dressed in turquoise, as beautiful as any model, visibly delighted in her soldier King’s commitment to peace. I coincidentally also wore turquoise, which prompted a remark from a woman in the crowd: “Now we know the color of peace is turquoise.”

After the ceremony, Bill and I drove with the King and Queen to their vacation home in Aqaba on the Red Sea. Noor surprised me with my second birthday cake of the day, topped with trick candles that I could not blow out. The King, in on the joke, jumped up and offered to help. He was no more successful than I. With a twinkle in his eye, the King proclaimed: “Sometimes even a King’s commands are not followed.” I think often of that perfect afternoon when hope for peace was so high.

Later that day, Bill became the first American President to address a joint session of the Jordanian Parliament in the capital, Amman. Jet lag had begun to take its toll, and the traveling party was exhausted. I sat in the gallery watching Bill speak while all around me the heads of White House staff and cabinet officials began snapping back as one after another lost the battle to stay awake. I persevered by digging my nails into my palms and pinching my