Supriya, but her best friends as well. If you’re looking for dating tips, I’m not the guy to talk to.
I spent the next few months pleading over the phone for another date with Supriya. Most times I couldn’t reach her, so I would just talk to her mom. When I did reach Supriya, she was fun and pleasant, but she was always too busy for a date. Finally I asked her, “When are you not going to be busy?” A chemical engineer, she explained she had a big project at work and was working on her MBA in the evenings, so she wouldn’t have time for months—until July. So I said fine, mark down the first Friday and Saturday in July for our second and third dates. It had taken me almost five months to get a second date so I was determined to get a third one, too.
When the day finally came, I spared no expense. We took a river-boat cruise on the Natchez Steamboat in New Orleans, followed by dinner at Bella Luna along the Mississippi River and then a stroll down Bourbon Street. The next day we drove down River Road, and I pointed out plantation homes and Supriya pointed out chemical plants.
Even though I had been professionally successful, something big was missing from my life. I knew when I found Supriya again, it was her. It was a fast, whirlwind courtship. I knew I couldn’t risk losing her for another ten years. We got engaged that fall. We were in love—and still are. Even when I had to spend weeks on the road during the campaign, Supriya and I would talk frequently throughout the day even if only for a minute at a time. I didn’t just marry the prettiest girl I knew ... she is also my best friend, fiercest ally, and a constant source of accountability.
Supriya and I talk to each other before doing anything really big. So we beat up my idea of running for governor a good bit before I had the temerity to mention it to anyone else.
Funny enough, one of the first people I floated the idea to was the president of the United States. It was winter 2002, and I was on Air Force One. As an assistant secretary of the Department of Health and Human Services, I was way in the back of the plane. The Navy steward came to me and said, “The president would like to see you when you are done eating.” I don’t enjoy eating much anyway, so I went forward right away. I wasn’t sure what he wanted with me, though I had an inkling—I’d heard rumors he was thinking of asking me to work in the White House.
When I got to the front, President Bush was sitting with my boss, HHS Secretary Tommy Thompson. Eventually, Karl Rove joined us. Truth be told, a few people had started talking about me possibly running for governor, so the president probably already knew about that, even though I considered it to be a state secret.
Sure enough, the president told me he had a job offer for me, but he’d heard I was thinking of going home to run for office. I don’t care what anyone says, it’s some kind of difficult to say no the president of the United States of America, and it’s even harder while you’re sitting on his plane. But he was extremely gracious; after I confirmed that I wanted to run for governor, he simply told me I should do that, if that’s what my passion was. I don’t think everyone sitting there agreed, in fact I’m sure of it, but their opinion didn’t matter—the big man had spoken. I went to the back of the plane before anyone could “revise and extend” his remarks, as they say in Washington. I sat down to find my seatmate had jammed everything in sight with an Air Force One logo into her purse.
Say what you want about President Bush, and plenty have, but I will always admire his generosity, candor, and honesty. He could easily have said, “No, I need you in this job, you have to do it for the
good of the country.” I was ready to say no anyhow, but he did not put me in that position. A true gentleman.
Admittedly, Supriya has a different interpretation of this conversation; she thinks the president let me
I spent the next few months pleading over the phone for another date with Supriya. Most times I couldn’t reach her, so I would just talk to her mom. When I did reach Supriya, she was fun and pleasant, but she was always too busy for a date. Finally I asked her, “When are you not going to be busy?” A chemical engineer, she explained she had a big project at work and was working on her MBA in the evenings, so she wouldn’t have time for months—until July. So I said fine, mark down the first Friday and Saturday in July for our second and third dates. It had taken me almost five months to get a second date so I was determined to get a third one, too.
When the day finally came, I spared no expense. We took a river-boat cruise on the Natchez Steamboat in New Orleans, followed by dinner at Bella Luna along the Mississippi River and then a stroll down Bourbon Street. The next day we drove down River Road, and I pointed out plantation homes and Supriya pointed out chemical plants.
Even though I had been professionally successful, something big was missing from my life. I knew when I found Supriya again, it was her. It was a fast, whirlwind courtship. I knew I couldn’t risk losing her for another ten years. We got engaged that fall. We were in love—and still are. Even when I had to spend weeks on the road during the campaign, Supriya and I would talk frequently throughout the day even if only for a minute at a time. I didn’t just marry the prettiest girl I knew ... she is also my best friend, fiercest ally, and a constant source of accountability.
Supriya and I talk to each other before doing anything really big. So we beat up my idea of running for governor a good bit before I had the temerity to mention it to anyone else.
Funny enough, one of the first people I floated the idea to was the president of the United States. It was winter 2002, and I was on Air Force One. As an assistant secretary of the Department of Health and Human Services, I was way in the back of the plane. The Navy steward came to me and said, “The president would like to see you when you are done eating.” I don’t enjoy eating much anyway, so I went forward right away. I wasn’t sure what he wanted with me, though I had an inkling—I’d heard rumors he was thinking of asking me to work in the White House.
When I got to the front, President Bush was sitting with my boss, HHS Secretary Tommy Thompson. Eventually, Karl Rove joined us. Truth be told, a few people had started talking about me possibly running for governor, so the president probably already knew about that, even though I considered it to be a state secret.
Sure enough, the president told me he had a job offer for me, but he’d heard I was thinking of going home to run for office. I don’t care what anyone says, it’s some kind of difficult to say no the president of the United States of America, and it’s even harder while you’re sitting on his plane. But he was extremely gracious; after I confirmed that I wanted to run for governor, he simply told me I should do that, if that’s what my passion was. I don’t think everyone sitting there agreed, in fact I’m sure of it, but their opinion didn’t matter—the big man had spoken. I went to the back of the plane before anyone could “revise and extend” his remarks, as they say in Washington. I sat down to find my seatmate had jammed everything in sight with an Air Force One logo into her purse.
Say what you want about President Bush, and plenty have, but I will always admire his generosity, candor, and honesty. He could easily have said, “No, I need you in this job, you have to do it for the
good of the country.” I was ready to say no anyhow, but he did not put me in that position. A true gentleman.
Admittedly, Supriya has a different interpretation of this conversation; she thinks the president let me
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