The Day I Met Rosalynn Carter

Thanks to my amazing and beloved Ma

There have been many well-deserved tributes to President Carter on the news of his passing at the age of 100. Rather than simply add my voice to those, I wanted to provide a personal account from my childhood, in which the Carters played a role.

My very first political act as a child (not counting throwing up on the steps of the Capitol after running up and down them repeatedly) was to attend a protest. Ma, who passed away in 2022, was involved in an effort to pressure the U.S. government to normalize relations with China. At one point we even picketed in D.C. to draw attention to the matter.

Later, I remember the family gathering before the TV to listen to President Carter announce that he was in fact going to do this, bringing my parents’ birth nation and their chosen nation far closer. Ma rejoiced in the news and cited our protest, but I’m pretty sure the diplomatic move was already long in the works.

The second political act occurred a few years later, when Ma helped bring none other than the First Lady of the United States, Rosalynn Carter, to our town of Tucson, Arizona to meet with the Chinese community there. To the end of her days, Ma considered this one of her crowning achievements, and she credits it with stirring an interest in politics among her children.

This is a vingette of her efforts and that day, and one she retold whenever she possibly could. It’s excerpted from my “ma-moir” of her life, MA IN ALL CAPS. (A note on syntax: whenever MA is speaking in ALL CAPS, it is in English; if she is speaking in regular text, she is speaking in Chinese, which I have translated to English.)

I hope you enjoy this departure from the normal news cycle!

Happy New Year. And may we uphold the values of the Carters and instill them in our children and grandchildren.

Jay

* * *

“Do you think she talks to the president about his job?” Ma asked Ba in Chinese over dinner, raising the subject of Rosalynn Carter for the fourth time that week. She hoped her children were also paying attention, that this was, in fact, VERY BIG DEAL, and that their mother was VERY INVOLVE.

Ba grunted. “If she wanted to, could he stop her?”

“I’m sure that they are like any couple,” Ma said, ignoring the bait and looking at Mimi and me. “MAYBE TELL HER MANY THING. EVERY COUPLE HAVING PILLOW TALK AT NIGHT BEFORE BED, YOU KNOW.”

“Maybe you can ask her yourself,” said Ba, reaching with his chopsticks for some sliced beef.

Ba had become increasingly dismissive about the “Carter Visit,” as Ma had now begun to call it, even though Jimmy Carter clearly would not be in attendance. Ba made no secret that he opposed the idea of local Chinese getting too involved with national or even local politics, deeming it a pointless show of vanity. The people in D.C. were happy to take Chinese money, but did they ever do anything to help us in return? Ba also seemed generally uncomfortable with Ma taking on new roles outside the home. Within a short period of time, after we had moved to Tucson, Ma had earned her real estate license and had dipped her toe into business and now politics. What would be next?

“I wonder if they will allow photographs with the children,” Ma said, thinking how wonderful that would be to show us when we were older.

“With how much we are donating, that’s the least they should do,” said Ba.

As the day approached, Ma grabbed every opportunity to insert us into the schedule and the event. Mimi, just seven years old, would carry and present flowers to Rosalynn Carter. “That would be so cute, don’t you think?” she asked Ba, who didn’t answer. “And the boys could serve drinks. Wouldn’t that be perfect?”

When someone pointed out that children weren’t permitted to serve alcohol, Ma put her foot down. “WHO GOING TO STOP THEM, CIA?” she laughed.

On the day of The Carter Visit, it turned out to be a good thing that Ma didn’t have to worry about the party, the service, the food, or the drinks. She was nervous enough remembering all these white American guests’ names and faces and being an on-point, got-it-together host. The Governor himself, Bruce Babbitt, had come with an entire entourage. He had startled my two brothers during the dinner by sneaking into the guest house where they had gone to escape, taking with them an entire plate of porterhouse steaks, a whole pie and a gallon jug of Gallo wine. In his remarks, the governor made a point to praise Millie’s famous pecan pie.

Some of Ma’s friends had remarked privately that they were surprised she wasn’t hosting the party at the Kuo house. They’d been to so many wonderful gatherings there, after all. Ma was gracious, saying she had to thank Millie and Rebecca for offering up their home, but she was rather happy to overhear that the food wasn’t nearly as good as it would have been at her home. “STEAK, GIANT POTATO, JUG OF RED WINE? ALL FOR CHINESE?” To Ma, this was Chinese people playing at being American.

When the First Lady arrived, she looked a little worn and was unusually quiet, but she did say hello to each of us Kuo children. Ma thought we looked smart in our pressed shirts, ties and polished dress shoes. Mimi was right on cue with her flowers, though she gave them to the wrong woman at first, before Ma frantically gestured towards Mrs. Carter, who accepted the bouquet with a light smile while the crowd laughed good-naturedly at the mix-up. The much-vaunted family photograph with the First Lady went wonderfully in the end, even if we boys looked a little sullen.

“I think it’s going very well,” Millie said to Ma. “So far, no big mishaps.”

“GOVERNOR SAY HE LOVE YOUR PIE,” Ma said, pretty certain Millie didn’t make it herself.

“I don’t know,” Rebecca said, sipping at her red wine and pursing her even redder lips. “Rosalynn doesn’t seem that excited.”

“MRS. CARTER,” Ma corrected, “MUST BE SO TIRED.”

“It’s as if she’s just being led around for show and would rather be somewhere else,” Rebecca said unhappily.

She would have been much less stiff in a more relaxed environment, Ma told me later. How many of these buttoned-up events must she have to suffer through at each campaign stop?

When it came time for a toast with their honored guest, Ma called me over and fixed my tie, then handed me a platter with two champagne flutes on it. “Can you handle this without spilling the drinks?” she said to me in Chinese, so the waitstaff wouldn’t overhear.

“Sure, Ma,” I said. But now I couldn’t get the idea of spilling champagne all over the First Lady of the United States out of my head.

“Okay, then take two drinks over there to Mrs. Carter,” she urged, taking a bottle from one of the servers and pouring both glasses half full. “Go on!”

Ma watched in delight as I approached the most important woman in the country. The Secret Service, as she expected, didn’t seem to mind a child approaching her this way. Mrs. Rosalynn Carter looked down and smiled broadly at me as I lifted the tray up with both hands so she could take a glass.

“I have a question for you,” I said after she had taken the glass. Mrs. Carter cocked her head. “OH, NO!” Ma later recounted colorfully to others as a key part of our family lore. “WHAT IS JAY SAYING TO HER?”

“Oh? And what is that, young man?” the First Lady asked me.

I blurted out the question I’d had in my head for over a week. “My mom and dad were wondering about you and the president, how you talk to each other. I want to know, do you really share ‘pillow talk’ with him?”

Ma quickly led me away as Rosalynn Carter tipped her head back and let out a genuine laugh, long and relaxed, probably for the first time in days.

If you would like to read more from MA IN ALL CAPS, you can order a kindle, print or audiobook version (brilliantly narrated by my brother Kaiser) here: https://a.co/d/dPTXebY