Where I Stand — Brian Greenspun: It’s a host’s privilege

Tuesday, May 18, 1999 | 2:46 a.m.

WHAT IS IT like to have the president at your home?

That's the inevitable question from practically everyone my wife and I meet once the news breaks that our president, Bill Clinton, is coming to Las Vegas and sleeping overnight at our home. It is a question, I am proud to say, that has been asked a number of times since President Clinton was first elected in 1992. It is also a question that, until now, I have refrained from answering except in very general terms or in private conversations.

But now the time is right for me to at least give it a try. I realized as much on Sunday night when the president visited with, and then spoke briefly to, our guests at a Democratic fund-raiser at our home. For in those precious minutes with the leader of our country and the most powerful man in the world, I came to understand the impact on so many lives that his visit can have. And for the small part Myra and I have played in that effort, we are truly grateful. I know that same measure of gratitude is felt deeply by our friends, Jody and Elias Ghanem, who also opened their home to the president this week. I also know that Elias, who just a few decades ago was a poor Arab immigrant to this country, feels even deeper the immeasurable honor that has been bestowed upon him.

When I was a small child, the idea that one of my peers or even I, myself, could grow up to be the president of the United States was a most pleasant thought, however unrealistic such a dream might have sounded then or even now. The White House represented the epitome of public service and the realization of the American Dream. Since most of us were either first- or second-generation Americans, just the thought that we could be elected to that high office was worth the effort it took to learn our history and government lessons and pay attention to our English teachers who kept promising us a better life once we learned to communicate in a common language.

I know, I know. Things are different today. Politics has become a dirty word and politicians have managed to sink below used car salesmen in the esteem granted them by the public at large. But all that is just temporary. One day soon our young people will come to understand the importance of public service once again, and with that will come the same dreamy-eyed thoughts of one day being the president. But we won't get there without some prodding by my generation. That's where President Clinton comes in, and all of us who help make it possible for him to visit our cities and communities across the country. And that is the beginning of the answer to the question of what it is like when he comes to visit.

In my mind there is no greater honor bestowed upon an ordinary American citizen than that conferred by the president when he chooses to stay in your home. By making that choice, he is saying that he not only has confidence in your ability to provide a safe and comforting haven for an evening or two, but he is also acknowledging that yours is a home that is worthy of such a visit. And by that I don't mean the size of the structure or the quality of the construction. No, I am talking about an understanding that ours is a typically American home, one in which the institutions of government are respected and those who provide public service are admired. Not necessarily for their political ideas but, rather, for their commitment to furthering the common good. There are millions of such homes in America. I am proud that ours is one of them.

Is it fun? Of course it is, and that's another part of the answer. For a few days or weeks, after you are told that the president would like to visit and perhaps stay, there is not much else that commands your attention. Not work, not play and not much else, other than to make sure that his visit will provide him the maximum of rest and relaxation because we all know that he needs it. The demands of his office are almost too much for any person so if we get the chance to contribute to his sanity, then it is not only our privilege but our responsibility.

Is it stressful? Not in the least. There are advance teams which serve the president wherever he travels. Their job is to make certain that everything that happens is contemplated and everything that is contemplated, happens. That is not always the case but there are hundreds of young people and their elders who work tirelessly to come as close to perfection as possible. The only stress on those of us playing host is what to wear. Oh yes, there's what to serve, what to say, where to sit and where to stand. But beyond that, there's no stress.

There are many others who also play a very major role in the president's visit. They are police and Highway Patrol officers, firefighters, medical personnel, Secret Service people and others whose job it is to make sure nothing bad happens. We have all heard the stories about the cost of moving a president and, for the most part, they are true. But that is a willing cost we pay to protect our president from a world full of wackos who would short-circuit the democratic election process if they could. Whatever the cost, it is a small price to pay. As for the personnel involved, I've heard only words like honor, duty and responsibility from them.

But the biggest part of the answer to what it is like is written on the faces of some of the smallest Americans. The children. For wherever President Clinton goes, there are always young people, looking up to the man we call the president. And just as often there is a mom or dad, pointing and prompting their young ones to make themselves known. And without fail, there is President Bill Clinton, out of his armored limousine and into the crowd of awestruck youngsters, some of whom are already dreaming about one day becoming president themselves.

When I see the looks on those faces and the care with which Bill Clinton nurtures those young dreams, I know for sure what it is like to have the president come to our home. It is a feeling that remains difficult to describe. But happily, Myra and I and our friends, Jody and Elias, will spend the rest of our lives willing to do just that.

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