President and Dr. Biden,
President and Mrs. Bush, Vice Presidents
Harris, Pence, Quail, and Gore.
Distinguished guests and friends,
we gather today in this holy and
magnificent space, one week before
Thanksgiving,
to give thanks for the life of Richard
Bruce Cheney, the 46th Vice President of
the United States,
and to thank his family, Mrs. Cheney,
Liz, Mary, Phil, Heather, Elizabeth,
Kate, Grace, Sam, Phillip, Sarah, and
Richard.
Thank them for sharing him with us.
I'm Jonathan Ryder, and I was privileged
to be the vice president's cardiologist.
I'll admit I'm not very good at letting
go,
but it can take a village to care for a
complicated patient. And I want to
acknowledge the many doctors and nurses
here with us today who took such
magnificent care of the vice president.
Over a span of 27 years, Vice President
Cheney gifted me with his trust.
And there's nothing more sacred between
a doctor and their patient than trust.
I'm happy to report that I haven't given
many eulogies.
No one no one wants a doctor who's great
at funerals.
But I stand here this morning
deeply honored to tell you about my
remarkable patient, Dick Cheney.
20 years before I met the vice
president, his career in elected office
almost ended before it began when he
suffered a heart attack during his first
campaign for Congress. He was only 37.
What Dick Cheney didn't know at the
time, because his doctors never told
him, was that they thought it would be
best for him to withdraw from the race,
that after the heart attack, a vigorous
campaign might be too much for him.
They didn't know Dick Cheney. Or more
likely, maybe they did know Dick Cheney
and no one had the guts to tell him to
quit.
So after a period of rest, he told
Wyoming's voters that he was up for the
challenge. He said a little hard work
never hurt anybody. And later in the
summer, he resumed his campaign, won
that election, and then five more.
For a man with very complex heart
disease, the vice president was the
easiest patient to care for. He was
meticulously compliant with his
prescribed treatment. As it pertained to
his health, he lived by the motto, "When
in doubt, check it out." He never
allowed politics to influence his
personal health care decisions. And not
once in all my time as his doctor did he
try to to write or change a single word
of a statement I issued.
There was only one time in my entire
tenure with the vice president that he
said no to a medical recommendation from
me.
It was on September 11th, 2001.
I had an appointment to see him that day
at the White House for a scheduled
checkup. I don't typically make house
calls, but sometimes I'm willing to make
an exception.
In advance of the visit, my colleague,
Colonel Lou Hoffman, the vice
president's wonderful full-time White
House doctor, had arranged for some
routine blood tests. But before the
tubes could be sent to the lab, our
world changed.
Amazingly, even with the chaos and
horror of that day, somehow late in the
afternoon, the blood samples found their
way to a lab. In the early evening,
while the vice president was on the move
to an undisclosed location, Lou called
to tell me that our patients potassium
level was dangerously, maybe even
lethally high. I thought that the result
was probably erroneous, an artifact of
the prolonged delay in processing the
blood. But we needed to be sure. I was
worried about him. I asked Lou if we
could repeat the test right away, but
the vice president firmly said, "No, not
today."
I I didn't think that was the day to
argue with him.
You might think that taking care of a
public figure, particularly one who who
carried nuclear launch codes, could be a
bit intimidating, but the vice president
was an unassuming man. His calls to me,
even when originating from the White
House, always began in the same modest
way. Hi, John is Dick Cheney.
Prior to prior to the 2000 election, one
of my young cardiology fellows, who
somehow had never heard of Dick Cheney,
asked the soon-to-be vice president of
the United States what he did for a
living.
The soon-to-be vice president answered,
"Government work.
He was also very grateful and very
generous. Prior to taking office in
2001, the vice president, Mrs. Cheney,
quietly donated a large gift to George
Washington University, which became the
founding support for our heart
institute, enabling us to provide
defibrillators to churches in the
poorest parts of the nation's capital
and pacemakers to patients in the
poorest parts of the world.
In his 2006 eulogy for President Ford,
Vice President Cheney referred to his
boss, the 38th president of the United
States as the still point in the turning
wheel. It's a beautiful image derived
from a passage in a TS Elliott poem. I
remember hearing his words then and
thinking how aptly the phrase described
the vice president himself. In all our
time together, in moments of true
existential risk for him, the vice
president was always the calmst person
in the room, including me.
One evening in July 2010, as he lay
literally dying in the cardiac surgical
intensive care unit, I told the vice
president that the mechanical heart
assist device scheduled for the next day
couldn't wait until morning. It would be
too late. He looked for a moment towards
Miss Cheney, Liz, and Mary, and then
said calmly, "Okay, let's do it."
That's all he said, "Okay, let's do it."
Months later, as he recalled that night,
he said that he thought he would
probably die and he was at peace with
it.
The Latin word for heart is core. It's
also the source for the word courage. To
have heart is to have courage. I don't
think courage is necessarily the absence
of fear. Rather, it's the ability to
persevere even in the presence of fear.
Time and time again, that's what Vice
President Cheney was able to do. His
wasn't a false courage cloaked by a thin
veneer of bravado, but rather a genuine
fortitude in the face of true mortal
peril. He lived most of his li adult
life chased by a relentless disease
intent on killing him. But he never
looked over his shoulder.
He only looked ahead.
The hospitalization to implant a
ventricular cyst device was long and
complicated. He was in the ICU for more
than a month, but not for a single
moment without his family watching over
him. When I entered his ICU room on his
sickest days, I would often find Mrs.
Cheney at the base of the bed rubbing
his feet.
Liz and Mary took turns sleeping in the
hospital. He just barely survived, but
the device ultimately enabled him to
recover and last the 20 months until he
was gifted with a new heart.
Today, as we remember the vice
president's life, I ask you also to
think about the anom anonymous family
who, in their time of terrible grief 13
years ago, donated the heart of someone
they treasured to a stranger they would
never know. It was a blessing and an act
of love.
A a gift that gave him many more summer
afternoons on the Snake River with his
fly rod. and most profoundly precious
time to watch his seven grandchildren
grow up. This what this was what was
most important to Dick Cheney. At a
recent birthday party, he told them, "I
am so proud of all of you."
He was an American patriot and a man who
loved his family. I was honored to be
his doctor.
It was an even greater honor to be his
friend.
As someone who grew up in the same town
Casper, went to the same high school,
enjoyed the same wide open spaces, I
can't think of anybody who better
embodied Wyoming values than Dick
Cheney. He was comfortable in the saddle
on horseback. He judged people by what
they accomplished and what they stood
for. He loved the state where he grew up
and met Lynn. and Wyoming loved him
back, electing him six times to the
House of Representatives.
He enjoyed the solitude of the Wyoming
wilderness, too, and was an expert at
finding the best places to deploy a fly
rod. In fact, if you wanted his
attention in the office, and you saw
that the Orvis catalog was open on his
desk, you knew to come back some other
time.
For my 50th birthday, he offered to let
me come with him for a day's fly fishing
in the Tetons. I told him that the best
gift I could give in return was to
respectfully decline because I'm no
fisherman. And I knew that if I spoke
even 10 words all day, he would say, "I
talk too much."
When I was his press secretary, I once
wrote a news release that contained the
word bureaucrat.
He crossed it out and substituted
federal official. As the son of a man
who worked for the agriculture
department, he respected people who
chose to serve their country.
Many Americans got their first look at
Dick Cheney during the Gulf War,
Operations Desert Shield and Desert
Storm. My office at the Pentagon was the
place where letters made their first
stop. And one in particular stands out
in my memory. A woman in Indiana wrote
to say this. During these difficult
times for our country, it is reassuring
to turn on the television and see
someone in charge of our military who is
plain speaking, resolute, and strong.
And then she added, "I find these
qualities to be very attractive. I'm not
sure whether you're married, but if
you're ever in Indianapolis, you can
look me up."
I showed this letter to check Secretary
Cheney and he took it home to brag about
it.
Shortly after Dick Cheney became
Secretary of Defense, one of our senior
policy officials had a request for me as
the Pentagon spokesman. A New York Times
reporter wanted to know more about a new
effort by the George HW Bush
administration to reach a nuclear
weapons agreement with the Soviet Union.
The official sought permission to give
the Times some background. I relayed the
request to Secretary Cheney, who gave
his okay, but he said, "Make absolutely
sure our guy talks it over with the
White House first to get a clear idea of
what he can say."
The following Sunday morning, the paper
revealed that the president would soon
propose a new negotiating tactic.
The problem was that the president
planned to reveal that strategy in a
speech on Monday, and he was none too
pleased to see it spelled out
beforehand.
I received a call at home on Sunday
informing me that this official and I
were to report to Secretary Cheny's
office first thing Monday morning.
We walked in and sat down, braced for
the worst. The secretary said, "I've got
some good news and some bad news. Which
do you want first?" So I asked for the
bad news. He looked at us sternly and he
said, "The bad news is that the
president of the United States is very
angry with you both."
And then I asked for the good news and
he said, "I only have to fire one of
you."
I could tell he was joking. I'm not sure
the senior official realized it.
And then Secretary Chenini said, "It's
okay, guys. I told the president it was
my idea."
He could have told President Bush that
it was our fault, but he took the blame
and saved us from ourselves.
When the boss that you serve cleans up
after your mistakes, you can bet that
inspires loyalty. And Dick Cheney
demonstrated that kind of decency and
concern for all the people who served
him during his more than 40 years in
public life. In 1991, a magazine planned
to run a story outing me. I knew it was
coming, so I went up to his office and
offered to resign. He wouldn't hear of
it. And for several days after that
article appeared, he would call me on
the direct line to my desk at the
Pentagon to ask how I was doing and to
tell me to get on with the job.
Washington attracts ambitious people
driven by a desire to serve their
country. But many of those who become
big names acquire staffers and then cast
them aside as they rise in stature.
Not Dick Cheney. Throughout his life, on
his steady rise through the quarters of
power, his circle of friends kept
growing. He did not abandon those who
helped him along the way. And when
George W. Bush chose him to be the vice
presidential candidate in 2000, their
first campaign stop together was Casper,
a demonstration of Dick's loyalty to his
home state. I don't think he was worried
about locking up Wyoming's three
electoral votes.
Those of us fortunate to work for him
knew that he had a sly sense of humor.
He loved to tell a story about attending
a political event when he ran for
reelection as Wyoming's congressman. He
said he walked up to one old rancher,
stuck out his hand, and said, "I'm Dick
Cheney. I'm running for Congress, and
I'd like to have your vote." And the
rancher replied, "You got it. That guy
we got in there now is no damn good."
In my seven years of working for him in
the Congress and at the Pentagon, I
seldom came away from a meeting with him
without thinking that I'd learned
something about politics and government.
Lynn captured that experience perfectly
when she introduced him at the 2000
Republican Convention. Here's what she
said. Conversations with Dick have a way
of taking unexpected turns. Problems get
redefined and you find yourself thinking
about things in new ways. and she added,
"I cannot imagine the discussion that
would not benefit from his presence."
Dick Cheney was a good and decent man.
He loved his family and his home state.
His highest aspiration was serving the
country, and I'm so lucky and so deeply
grateful that I was along for part of
that ride.
Lynn, Liz, and Mary, and all the Cheney
family, honored guests, ladies and
gentlemen.
I appreciate this chance to say a few
words about a man I was proud to call my
vice president and my friend.
Though not a happy assignment, I do
consider it an easy one because there
was so much to like and admire about
Dick Cheney.
Dick was a stoical man and I doubt he
left his life with any complaints about
the time given to him or its end.
He was also a grateful man, grateful
above all for three loyal, loving women
who shared in his journey.
As I quickly discovered in 2000, when
you choose one Cheney, you get four.
His busy and purposeful life was an
adventure they experienced together.
In a family so close you dread the day
when the circle is broken.
Lynn and the girls Heather, Phil, and
all the grandchildren. He sure loved you
all. And he was proud of his family.
I hope it helps to know that many people
in this country share your sense of
loss.
And we're here today as your friends.
25 years ago, I had a big choice to
make. a big job to fill.
I want to know all my options. So, I
enlisted the help of a distinguished
former White House Chief of Staff and
Secretary of Defense to lead my search
for running mate.
Dick Cheney and I went through the files
name by name. We talked over the various
qualities I was looking for in a vice
president. Preparedness, mature
judgment, rectitude, and loyalty.
Above all, I wanted someone with the
ability to step into the presidency
without getting distracted by the
ambition to seek it.
After weeks of these meetings, I began
to have a thought I could not shake.
I realized the best choice for the vice
president was the man sitting right in
front of me. And I told him that
at such a moment, most in this position
would have jumped at the chance.
But Dick stayed detached and he analyzed
it.
Before I made my decision, he insisted
on giving me a complete rundown of all
the reasons I should not choose him.
He also heard one of my top adviserss
was against the choice. So Dick invited
him to make the case.
As he did so, he sat there unfazed and
expressionless.
In the end, I trusted my judgment.
I remember my dad's words when I told
him what I was planning. He said, "Son,
you couldn't pick a better man."
The way this all unfolded followed a
pattern Dick Cheny's life.
Summing up his career a few years ago,
he said, "A few breaks came my way, and
one job always led to another. And in a
life that's taken me far to more places
than I ever expected."
That was Dick's typically understated
version of events. But there's a little
more to the story.
His abilities were self-evident without
need of calculation or self-promotion.
His talent and restraint exceeded his
ego.
Even before the Cheney name reached the
national stage, people always saw
something in the man. Solid, reliable,
and rare.
One of the first to really notice was
Lyn Vincent.
She can recall a time in their college
years when Dick, as he freely admitted,
lacked direction and needed some
straightening out.
I think we had that in common.
That was Lynn's kind of project.
And it did not take her long. He said
many times that his life would have
turned out a whole lot different if he
had never met her.
It may explain how in just over a decade
a guy can going from laying transmission
lines outside Cheyenne to serving as
chief of staff of the president of the
United States.
In Dick's telling those years working
for Gerald Ford were special and
formative.
He cherished the association
and the high regard went both ways.
In his memoir, President Ford described
Dick's steadiness, his low-key style,
and his absolute loyalty.
I know exactly what he meant.
These are not traits easy to come by in
Washington.
Being calm, reticent, undramatic, and
untru unt untrustworthy are not
everyone's formula for success in
politics.
But they were the Cheney way and they
worked.
I'm reminded of a renowned senator who
once gave this advice to a junior
colleague. Perhaps he said you could
occasionally allow yourself the luxury
of an unexpressed thought.
Dick Cheney was like that, sparing and
measured with words.
In a profession that attracts talkers,
he was a thinker and a listener.
And when he did speak up, conveying
thoughts in that even tone of voice,
that orderly, unexitable manner, you
knew you were getting the best of a
highly disciplined mind.
No colleague, no legislature, no foreign
leader who ever met Dick Cheney ever
doubted that they were dealing with a
serious man.
Of course, not every political counselor
is cut out to be a political candidate.
But Dick Cheney put himself to the test
and never lost an election.
In fact, it happens that he and I both
ran for Congress in 1978.
And let me just say, the Republican wave
didn't reach West Texas that year.
He told me a few times what it's like to
campaign in Wyoming. Lots of small
gatherings and long drives.
It's easy to imagine imagine the
impression that young Dick Cheney made
when he was asking for the vote. I wish
more Americans got to know Dick Cheney
the way the folks in Casper, Cody, and
Larman got to know him. Smart and
polished, without heirs,
courteous and approachable, seeing
everyone as an equal, a gentleman by
nature and a true man of the West.
Dick was funny and easygoing in a style
that his public image never caught up
with, though we can all agree wasn't
your standard issue politician.
If any voters came hoping for a kind
word and a hug, they'd have to settle
for the kind word.
But you can't question the appeal of the
only person from America's
Mountain West ever elected to national
office.
On that score, history should record
that I chose my vice president not once,
but twice.
In 2004, he offered to step aside in
case I wanted to replace him. I thought
about it for a while, but after four
years of seeing how he treated people,
how he how he carried responsibility,
how he handled pressure and took the
hits, I arrived back at the conclusion
that they do not come any better than
Dick Cheney.
Colleagues from every chapter of his
career will tell you that he lifted the
standards of those around him just by
being who he was, so focused and so
capable.
In our years in office together, on the
quiet days and on the hardest ones, he
was everything a president should expect
in his second in command.
In moments of testing, Dick Cheney was
the model of concentration, alertness,
and composure.
His memoir was titled My Time.
His time produced an old breed of public
servant defined by their substance and
character.
This was a vice president totally
devoted to protecting the United States
and its interests.
There was never any agenda or angle
beyond that.
You did not know Dick Cheney unless you
understood his greatest concerns and
ambitions were for his country.
Across 40 years of service,
across 40 years, his service was
consistent, faithful, and noble.
All in all, not a bad showing for a
career and a life, especially when you
consider his sheer physical endurance.
As Dr. Rener pointed out, he became an
authority on cardiovascular disease
and a marvel at what resourceful doctors
and one very determined patient can
accomplish.
Dick had faced down fears and hardships,
but he really didn't speak about him.
The reward was more of a life than he
ever expected, including seven
grandchildren to complete the picture.
One of them, Richard, even asked his
grandfather to attend kindergarten class
for a show and tell.
I wish I'd have been there.
As a matter of fact, the teacher told
Dick that that was the most exciting
show and tell since the morning a little
girl brought her cow to class.
That might have been amongst Dick's last
moments in the spotlight. In his final
years, he was content to grow go his
way. At a rare public appearance in 20ou
uh 2022, he offered a kind of parting
reflection. He said, "When you can look
back on a lifetime in politics and
government and what you value most are
the friendships,
then I guess you've done all right."
A lot of us know that feeling as we say
an affectionate farewell to the 46th
vice president of the United States.
It's something to be cherished when a
man of his caliber has been your
colleague and friend.
The son of Wyoming, son of Marjgery and
Richard Cheney of Casper went far in
this world and in our own lives left a
very fine mark.
We are grateful for his good life. We
honor her service and we pray that
somewhere up the trail we will meet him
again.
Seven of us were blessed to be Dick
Cheny's grandchildren. The only one of
us not here today is our older sister
Katie who is about to have a baby.
When I was 18, my grandpa helped me pack
my things in his truck and drove me
eight hours from Jackson Hole to
Colorado Springs for my first year of
college.
Along the way, he gave me advice,
warning about the potential dangers
associated with your freshman year of
college, reminiscing about the days when
he was taking my mom to college, and
just talking about life in general.
I will forever see him that way, driving
along an open road and telling me
stories about his life while talking
about the family that he loved so
dearly.
I'll forever see him in his leather
chair by the fire in his study in
Wyoming, snow outside the windows, books
piled up, and his beloved dogs at his
feet.
I'll forever see him on horseback riding
up Spencer's Mountain for Sunrise
breakfast.
I'll forever see him on the south fork
of the snake, fly rod in hand, perfect
cast after perfect cast.
Sometimes he even gave one of his
grandchildren the coveted seat in the
front of the boat. And he didn't even
complain too much when more than once we
hooked him with an outofcrol cast.
I'll forever see him at Thanksgiving and
Christmas in the kitchen with a towel
thrown over his shoulder cooking for us
all. and we will forever be asking him,
"Is the turkey ready yet?"
The day after my grandpa died, I pulled
down the huge boxes of challenge coins
he kept in the top of his closet.
I spent several hours looking at the
coins, turning each one over in my hand
to see its unique inscription.
As I held each coin, I was struck by
just how many places my grandpa had been
and how many people he must have met
along the way.
But this is who Grandpa was. Every
person he met meant something to him.
And every coin he was handed he kept
forever.
Let me close with a few words prepared
by our sister Katie, who could not be
with us today.
Dear Grandpa, the mark you left on our
world is remarkable, but it pales in
comparison to the one you left on our
family.
Your unwavering love for us is a legacy
we will forever hold close and will pass
on to our own children one day. As we
prepare to welcome your first great
grandson into the world, please know
that we are thinking of you. And if this
baby boy grows up to become even half
the man that you were, we will consider
ourselves profoundly blessed. And rest
assured, your great grandson will be on
the water with a fly rod in his hand the
moment he can stand.
I am named after my grandpa and for my
whole life he was always there for me.
As Mr. Bush mentioned, one of my
favorite stories of my grandpa is when
he came to my kindergarten class.
My teacher said that grandpa was the
best showand tell since my classmate
brought her cow to class. He truly loved
that story.
We both played high school football and
my grandpa kept the schedule of my games
on his desk and he was nearly at almost
all of my games.
We were both running backs. I recently
read a comment from one of Grandpa's
coaches. He said, "Dick Cheney ran with
the speed of a fence post."
Grandpa might not have been blessed with
great speed, but he taught me that raw
determination and grit can lead you to
success.
He was the captain of his team, and his
high school field in Casper is now named
after him.
Every Christmas, Grandpa would cook our
dinner while we hung out in the kitchen
watching his favorite John Wayne movies
year after year. We loved to do this,
even though we had seen these movies
dozens of times.
I will always remember the hot Wyoming
summer days when I was a kid. Days that
my siblings and I would spend sitting
together on our back porch talking with
our grandpa. He would give us important
life lessons as well as make us laugh.
What I remember specifically about the
time I spent with my grandpa was the way
he looked at me, how he looked at each
of us. This was because when my grandpa
looked at you and smiled, he didn't even
have to say a word. You could just feel
his love. In a way, his gaze alone said,
"I love you more than anything."
He always told us how proud he was of
us. And we will always try to follow his
example.
To be people driven to love our
families, to be respectful, and to live
through the lessons he taught us. to put
love and our families first. I love you,
Grandpa.
When I was on the high school rodeo team
in Jackson, Wyoming, my grandpa was my
driver. In his Ford F350 pickup, he
hauled me and my horses hundreds of
miles to rodeos all across the state. He
taught me how to have integrity, how to
work hard, how to have grit, how to face
adversity, and how to look danger and
fear right in the eye and say, "Is that
all you got?"
I'm pretty sure he's the only person who
ever had the title vice president turned
rodeo grandpa.
And I'm blessed he was mine. After one
high school rodeo in Casper, grandpa
drove me to places that had been
important to him growing up. He showed
me the house he was raised in and told
me how he and his brother Bob would
shoot rabbits out on the prairie and
bring them home for his mom to cook for
dinner. He showed me Hatsix Road, where
his dad taught him to drive, and Natrona
County High School, where he and my
grandma graduated in 1959.
For the last stop, he pulled up outside
a small house on West Bridge Drive. "You
know what that is, Gracie?" he said.
That's where I picked your grandma up
for our very first date.
On drives to rodeos with my grandpa, he
imparted important life lessons. Once we
were talking about how much I like to
ride bikes. In response, my grandpa
said, "Never ride a bike down the
stairs.
You will not make it and your head will
go through the drywall."
He seemed to be speaking from
experience.
Dick Cheney was a great rodeo grandpa
because he never went anywhere
unprepared. You could always count on
him to have emergency blankets,
flashlights, headlamps, tool kits,
different kinds of knives, emergency
meals, fly rods, rain gear, pens, and
butterscotch lifesavers.
Since we usually stayed in the small
living quarters of our horse trailer,
things got pretty crowded.
At one point, the Wall Street Journal
got wind that Dick Cheney had turned
into a full-time rodeo grandpa and asked
to send a reporter to interview him. Few
minutes before the reporter was
scheduled to arrive, Grandpa and I
looked around the living quarters and
realized there was stuff everywhere.
"Grandpa, we cannot have a Wall Street
Journal reporter in here. They're going
to take pictures." I said, "You're
right." He said, "Let's shove everything
in the bathroom."
We ran around and did just that. When we
were done, grandpa looked at me and
said, "Gracie, whatever you do, do not
let the reporter use the bathroom."
Long haul road trips with my grandma
were grandpa were extra educational
because he did not believe in the use of
any navigational devices.
We often took the scenic route. He
always knew the history of every area we
drove through and taught me to stop at
all the points of interest markers along
the highways.
I'll forever see my grandpa in his Stson
right before a barrel race, telling me,
"Ride hard.
Go get him, Grace." And no matter the
result, when my run was over, he would
say, "Great job. I'm proud of you."
My grandpa had a love for the land, a
love for his country, and a love for
Wyoming. Any day of the week, any hour
of the day, he was there to help. He was
tough with a kind heart. Dick Cheney
wasn't just my grandpa. He was my best
friend, my hero, my role model, and the
most influential person in my life.
And I know he's up in heaven right now
with his beloved labs Nelson, Davey, and
Jackson driving his Ford pickup and
catching the biggest cutthroats and
rainbows we could only ever imagine.
following your um kids to talk about
your dad is uh not good scheduling.
Um
but distinguished guests, presidents and
vice presidents, dear friends, my mom
and Mary and I and our families, thank
you for being here to honor the good and
great man we loved so much. A few years
ago, reflecting back on nearly 40 years
in public service, Dick Cheney said
this.
The path I had traveled was partly due
to the circumstance of my birth. Not
that I had been born into a powerful or
privileged family. I wasn't. But I was
born an American, a blessing surely
among life's greatest.
My dad thought deeply about what this
blessing meant, about the duties it
imposed.
Shortly after he became Secretary of
Defense in 1989, he described departing
from the Pentagon.
As my helicopter lifted off the Pentagon
helipad, I could look across the river
to the great monuments of Washington,
Jefferson, and Lincoln to the White
House and the Capitol building where all
the great decisions that have shaped 200
years of American history were made. And
I could look directly out on Arlington
National Cemetery and remember what a
terrible price thousands of brave
Americans have paid so that all of us
could enjoy the blessings of liberty.
My dad's devotion to America was deep
and substantive. He spent his life
studying the history of our great
republic. He knew you couldn't truly
appreciate what it means to live in
freedom if you didn't understand the
sacrifices of the generations who came
before.
And he made sure that his children and
grandchildren understood this, too. When
Mary and I were little, my dad would
load up our station wagon on the
weekends to take us to visit Civil War
battlefields.
With the back seat down and no need for
seat belts in those days, we would
stretch out eating crispy cream donuts
for breakfast while my dad drove us to
places like Gettysburg, Antidum,
Chancellor'sville, and Manasses.
To be clear, even with the donuts, Mary
and I were not enthusiastic participants
in these outings.
As you might imagine, Dick Cheney read
every word of every sign at every
battlefield, museum, and national park
he ever visited. When you're five or six
years old, this is not your idea of a
good time.
Mary and I usually moaned and groaned
about how long he was taking. And Dick
Cheney ignored us, and he just kept
reading the signs. He didn't lecture us
or demand that we read anything, but we
pretty quickly realized no one was going
anywhere until he got done. And so we
figured we might as well start reading
the signs, too. And what an education we
got.
That was the thing about Dick Cheney. He
wouldn't force his opinion on you or
demand you do things his way. He might
not share his opinion at all if you
didn't ask. In fact, he was known to go
long stretches of time without saying a
single word. But if you watched closely,
if you asked questions, if you listened
when he did speak, you had the
experience of seeing the world opening
up in front of you, of looking at things
in new ways, of benefiting from his
clarity of thought, his ability to
crystallize what was important and what
wasn't. and he was always surprising.
Many know the story of his time at Yale.
If my dad heard you say he flunked out,
he would correct you. No, no, I was
asked to leave
twice.
He took a break from school and he spent
several years building power line across
the West. I had heard this part of the
story my whole life, but it wasn't until
I worked with him on his memoirs that I
learned how he spent his evenings. At
the end of long days, he'd unroll his
sleeping bag by a campfire or on a cot
in the cook tent. And by the light of
his poem and lantern, he read Winston
Churchill's six volume history of World
War II.
By the fall of 1963,
Dick Cheney was convinced, some would
say threatened, by my mother, to return
to school.
He'd been at the University of Wyoming
just a few weeks when he climbed to a
seat up near the rafters of the packed
fieldhouse to hear President John F.
Kennedy urge the students to dedicate
their lives to the service of our
nation.
I think this is the moment my dad
decided what direction his life should
take.
Though he was inspired to service by
President Kennedy, Dick Cheney became a
Republican,
but he knew that bonds of party must
always yield to the single bond we share
as Americans.
For him, a choice between defense of the
Constitution and defense of your
political party was no choice at all.
When he was vice president, he wrote in
this letter to all of his grandchildren.
As you grow, you will come to understand
the sacrifices that each generation
makes to preserve freedom and democracy
for future generations.
and you will assume the important
responsibilities of citizens in our
society. I ask of you as my
grandchildren what I asked of my
daughters that you always strive in your
lives to do what is right.
In the last few years, God gave me one
of the greatest blessings of my life,
the gift of time with my dad. We spent
hours sitting by the fire at his house
or mine, watching football and old
movies. We went to grandkids games and
matches. And we hit the road again, this
time with me in the driver's seat.
Now, let me be clear. He did not like my
driving.
And in his defense, I had wrecked far
too many of his cars over the years for
him to be happy with this arrangement.
But we reached an accommodation of
sorts. My dad agreed to let me drive if
I agreed to let him choose the music.
Johnny Cash, John Denver, and yes, even
the Carpenters were the soundtrack of
our road trips. We went to places he'd
taken us 50 years ago to Manasses and
Antidum and Mount Vernon. My dad and his
Stson, the latest copy of The Economist,
that day's newspapers, and a book always
tucked into the door pocket. We drove
for hours. We talked about life and
family, history, and America.
Sometimes my dad's yellow lab, Max,
would jump in the back seat and come
with us. Max, like every dog we ever
had, loved my dad the best.
To be in my dad's company was to know
safety and love and laughter and
kindness.
There's a picture taken several years
ago of him in his cowboy hat and jeans
in a fleece jacket. He has his arm
around one of his young grandsons who's
leaning into his warm embrace.
Looking at that picture last week, my
mom put it best when she said that's
what he was to all of us. He was a giant
to the end, a lion of a man who loved
and served this great republic.
The night before my dad died, the sky
above my parents' house filled with
clouds in the shape of winged angels.
I had never seen anything like it. It
seemed indeed that angels and archangels
and all the company of heaven had come
to watch over him.
As my dad left this earth, his last
words were to tell my mother he loved
her. And now all of us who loved him so
dearly say to him, "Good night, sweet
dad. May flights of angels sing thee to
thy rest.