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Writer's pictureROGER H. TALL, M.D.

THE LOOK






Over 20 years ago, Colin Powell was holding a press conference where he announced that he was not going to be a candidate for the United States Presidency. I liked Colin Powell but could not believe his next statement. He explained that he alone had made this decision. He said that his wife, Alma, had been supportive as he served as Secretary of Defense and would surely have been supportive in his running for the office of President. From the camera angle, I could see his wife and it was clear that what he was saying was not so. Alma's lips were pursed, her jaw was set, and her arms were folded tightly. Her body language said she was not there to support him continuing in politics. It looked to me that Alma had something on him and was the one in the driver's seat, making certain that Colin said the right things. What I did not know at the time was that she was also concerned about Corina Cretu, from the Romanian embassy. Colin had exchanged e-mails with her. Maybe he should have been less diplomatic, but Colin Powell just couldn’t give his flirty Romanian pal the heave-ho, despite her numerous needy rants at the bitter end of their racy relationship. Whatever was going on, it was clear that Alma Powell did not like it.


At age 11, my only son, James, was about to make his first political observation. We were watching the Colin Powell press conference on the evening news. James was lying in front of the TV on the bar stools with his hands supporting his chin. I was standing behind him next to the table. James turned and said, “Dad, I know why Colin Powell is not going to run for President.” Being somewhat surprised that he had an opinion about national politics, I asked him, “Why is that, James?” He replied, “His wife doesn’t want him to.” Just what I was thinking! I complimented him on being perceptive and correct and asked him how he came to that conclusion. He replied, “Because she is giving him ‘the look.’” I took great pleasure knowing that James was correctly analyzing world events without being coached. Part of joy and rejoicing in your posterity is having your youngest child explain something to you that which you already fully understand.


One week later, I finished rounds, and returned home, parked my car in the garage, and came into the house. Our entry from the garage is a straight shot from the hallway through the family room and into the kitchen with an unobstructed view. As the door opened, there was Mary Kay. Her lips were pursed, her jaw was set and her arms were folded tightly. Her body language said that there was trouble in River City. I instantly froze in my tracks. Usually, I know very well why I am in trouble, but I had been in the operating room all day and had no idea what was going on in my own home. I was about to find out.


Avoidance was not the solution. As the distance between us decreased, my confidence increased. I decided on the puzzlement defense and put on my quizzical face as I stood directly in front of my wife. We were nose to nose and eye to eye, when I announced, “You seem to be upset.” Her quick response established that I was part of the problem, but not the problem: “It's James! He’s just like you!” Smarter and more sensitive men would have taken a time-out to formulate an effective defense maneuver. Instead, I chose to say the funny-guy, not-so-smart first thing that came to mind: “Oh! That means he is perfect!” Oops! I had just stepped from solid ground into the quicksand, and it was too late to grab those words and stuff them back into my mouth. My oafish response confirmed her opinion that there were two men in her house needing her constant supervision. To this day, I don't know what James did to upset her. I just know that had I been in his shoes, I most likely would have done the same thing.


Prior to leaving on a church mission eight years later, James spoke from the pulpit to the members of our congregation. He observed that, at his leaving, I was going to be the only one at home who would be on Mary Kay's radar. He turned to me and gave a salute and announced, "Carry on soldier." I told you he was perfect. It would be two years before we would share another moment like that again. Ever vigilant, Roger H. Tall, M.D.


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