Bruce Todd's Notes from 19 Feb

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As a bit of a preface to Bruce's comments, the longest, most intense press interview I ever experienced was my first date with Michele, 10 July 1997. I barely knew Michele before our first date, but as I was driving home afterwards, I asked myself "Is there any significant fact about me that this woman does not now know?"

RKS

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Good morning. I’m Bruce Todd, and I was proud to call Michele a friend.

While everyone here wishes there was no need for an obituary, I was delighted to read the pieces in the paper written by Peggy Fikac, Mary Ann Roser and Chuck Lindell. It’s fitting that Michele’s passing was noted in such beautifully written pieces.

As to Michele’s comment that she wished the autobiography she was writing wasn’t “all about her,” my comments today WILL be “all about her.” Sorry, Michele.

It is hard in a brief time to sum up the attributes and characteristics of a person. Do I talk about her world experience, her life as a reporter, her teaching career, or all of the above? Since time is limited, that would be tough, especially for someone like Michele Kay.

So I will talk about one characteristic that epitomizes all these experiences. That would be the look in her eyes.

Michele’s eyes had three classic looks. One was when she was in her interviewer mode, and her eyes bored into you, saying, “I already know the answer to the question I just asked, so get it right, buster.” Bill Miller characterized this as her “no BS, please” look.

In this mode, she could be very direct in her evaluation of one’s answers. Michele once called to interview me about a fairly technical topic. After the interview was concluded, I asked if my replies had been of help to her story. She told me that I HAD helped make her story factually correct but that my answers had done nothing to make it less boring!

The next look was one of friendship, which is the one I saw far more often. I think you all can picture it. Her big brown eyes would start darting just a bit, and her whole face would animate—nose sort of twitching, mouth resisting a grin.

When I was still in office as mayor, I had a chance to visit Washington numerous times, and I always made it a point to get together with Michele and get caught up.

I went over to her apartment in D.C. one day after an ice storm had hit the city. Michele’s car was parked on the street, frozen over and unmovable. Without much of a greeting, she handed me a tire iron and basically told me to get busy. Although I was dressed in a business suit and an Austin-weight overcoat, I was not about to say no, so I took her tire iron and broke off enough ice from the wheels so that the car would move. She “supervised” the chore with that look on her face and a running stream of directions.

And the third look became magnified after she met Robert. That’s when she found the love she richly deserved and a real sparkle came into her eyes. She was so happy with their life together. Elizabeth and I lived right around the corner from Robert and Michele for several years after they got married, and I always enjoyed driving by their pretty house, seeing her white Mercedes, and thinking about their wonderful marriage.

Parenthetically, I will say that I tried to avoid their driveway when Michele was backing the Mercedes out. You could never even be sure that a human being was in the car behind the wheel—since her head barely cleared the dashboard—It always seemed prudent to me to give her a wide berth!

I’m not saying that her eyes didn’t occasionally revert to the “I know the answer look” after they got married. But with Michele, the sparkle would always come back.

Robert, you and her beloved children and grandchildren were the sparkle in her eyes. I’m grateful to you for the care you took of her during these last two years, but more than that, all of her friends are extraordinarily thankful that you brought love, laughter and support to a woman whose memory we will treasure for the rest of our lives.