Couple of columns back, I was talking about the city of Sydney, Australia, and how they’ve warned Santas not to say “ho, ho, ho” — because it could be offensive to women. You might have wondered: “How could they be doing this in Australia — a can-do, self-confident, robust nation, where PC is not yet king?”

Well, after their turning out of John Howard — I am thinking differently about the Australians.

But a more serious point: It’s very hard to hang on, year after year, term after term, when you’re a democratic politician. Jack Germond used to say this, years ago, on The McLaughlin Group. He said it when Margaret Thatcher was finally forced out; I believe he said it — or I thought it — when Mario Cuomo failed to win a fourth term. Voters simply say, “Enough.”

But they gave FDR a fourth term, didn’t they? Ah, but a world war was on . . .

But a world war is on now! you say. And I won’t argue with you. Still . . .

I’ve met Howard a time or two, and you would be hard pressed to meet a more engaging man — sharp, merry, vibrant. A little earthy. I think of him as quintessentially Australian, even stereotypically Australian. (And I mean that as a big compliment.)

The first time I met him — it was at a function in New York — he was amazingly unguarded. Delightfully so. In this sense, he seemed rather un-American (George Bush does, too). None of this namby-pamby, finely parsed baloney. He exhibited a personality that made you think: “I’d like to hang out with that guy. Or work for him. Or vote for him.”

Australians grew tired of voting for him. But he did much good — particularly in this global war we find ourselves in — and he and his supporters should hold their heads very high.

‐Over the years, I have frequently commented on Presidential Medals of Freedom in this column. And, in the next issue of National Review — due out digitally tomorrow — I have an article on that subject. I hope you will enjoy it (natch). I talk about what GWB has done, and what presidents in the past have done.

In handing out these medals, a president shows what he values — whom he values and what he values. Usually, liberals give to liberals, and conservatives give to conservatives. But a president, remembering that he presides over all Americans, will reach out to the opposition, too. You know: token here or there.

And then there are the choices I call consensus choices, or mom-and-apple-pie choices — medals that virtually no one can argue about: to Reinhold Niebuhr, Archibald MacLeish, Ellsworth Bunker (who received two Medals of Freedom), Jacques Cousteau, Norman Vincent Peale, Hank Aaron, Mr. Rogers, Mother Teresa — that kind of person.

If you were president, on whom would you bestow a medal? In my NR piece, I do not shrink from making one suggestion: If he had been confirmed by the Senate, Judge Bork would now be in his 20th year on the Supreme Court. It’s not only that he deserves a Medal of Freedom; he is almost owed one.

Anyway, the handing out of Medals of Freedom is a tasty presidential perk, as I say in NR. The president has other perks, of course — and other medals. Consider the Humanities Medals. I mentioned them a column or two back. President Bush gave them to VDH — our Victor Davis Hanson — and Professor Pipes, among others. And he has given out a slew of them in his seven years. As with Presidential Medals of Freedom, you can tip your hat to your guys.

Who were some of President Clinton’s guys? Well, he conferred Humanities Medals on just about the entire Democratic intelligentsia: Arthur Schlesinger Jr., Doris Kearns Goodwin, Skip Gates, Studs Terkel, Taylor Branch, Garrison Keillor, Bill Moyers. Sounds like the lineup of PBS, doesn’t it? He also had some consensus picks — e.g., Martin Marty, the scholar of religion.

And GWB? He has come through with two invaluable Middle East scholars: Bernard Lewis and Fouad Ajami. And Thomas Sowell, Gertrude Himmelfarb, Hilton Kramer, Shelby Steele, Harvey Mansfield, Midge Decter . . . President Bush has been a superb honorer (and, yes, that’s a word — like decider). (Why do they pick on Bush for using that word? I’ll tell you why: because they’re either stupid or snarky or both.)

Some presidential medals — of Freedom or the Humanities ones — make us groan. I myself had a tough time with Jesse Jackson (whom Clinton gave the Medal of Freedom). I know that the Left had a terrible time with the heroes of anti-Communism whom Reagan insisted on honoring: Whittaker Chamber, James Burnham, Clare Boothe Luce, Leo Cherne . . . Reagan even had the temerity to bemedal Judge Kaufman!

The thing about the medals business: Everyone gets his turn, sooner or later. That’s the beauty — one of them — of elections.

And whom would Hillary Clinton honor? Let’s not think about that just yet . . .

#JAYBOOK#

‐I probably shouldn’t say this, but I will — I’ve typed the opening phrase, so I’m committed now. Last night, I attended the recital of Measha Brueggergosman, the soprano from New Brunswick, in Zankel Hall. (Zankel is the downstairs venue in Carnegie Hall.) I will give you a link to my review sometime soon.

For one of her encores, she sang a Tom Lehrer song, “The Old Dope Peddler.” The music is a sweet little corny lullaby. And the words are . . . well, I might as well quote them:

When the shades of night are falling,
Comes a fellow everyone knows.
It’s the old dope peddler,
Spreading joy wherever he goes.
Every evening you will find him,
Around our neighborhood.
It’s the old dope peddler
Doing well by doing good.
He gives the kids free samples,
Because he knows full well
That today’s young innocent faces
Will be tomorrow’s clientele.
Here’s a cure for all your troubles,
Here’s an end to all distress.
It’s the old dope peddler
With his powdered happiness.

Fun, fun, fun, clever, clever, clever. Everyone laughed throughout the song — just as you’re supposed to. Measha had a fun time, and so did everyone else.

And here’s what I shouldn’t say. After she’d sung the song, I had an evil thought. And what I thought was: “I hope her kids are ravaged by drug problems.”

Perhaps some of you will understand. And those who don’t — well, lucky you.

‐For the past few years, I’ve been reading about, and hearing about, Juan Carlos Herrera Acosta. I’ve mentioned him several times in this column. He is an independent journalist in Cuba, or was: He has been a political prisoner since March 2003. (He was one of those arrested in the “Black Spring.”) Juan Carlos is in very bad shape. He managed to put out a statement, from Kilo 8 Prison, on November 15. You can find that statement here. It reads, in part, “I don’t harbor a single hope of getting out of this monstrous place alive. Clearly my days are numbered, and, as usual, the Cuban regime will not let me meet with those I love before I die . . .”

If only the days of his tormentors were numbered.

‐Something a little lighter? Okay. For a review of the New York Philharmonic, under Lorin Maazel, with James Ehnes, violin soloist — published in the New York Sun — go here.

‐And let me leave you with something really good — a letter from a reader, received on November 21:

Jay, you ask whether Americans are still grateful. And the answer is an emphatic yes. This is not to say we don’t often feel inundated by busybodies who hector us to complain more and be content less. I live in Seattle, and just this week the school district sent a letter suggesting that Thanksgiving should be considered a time of mourning for our Native American students.
Let me tell you about an amazing young couple. My wife and I decided that we were going to quit sitting around and do something to be a blessing to some American soldiers this holiday. Last night we met [I will call her Beth] and her husband. Last March, Beth was nearly nine months pregnant and working hard to delay the onset of labor because her husband was due home from Iraq in a few days and would be able to be there for the birth.
A day or two before departing Iraq, Beth’s husband was “blown up” (his words). Instead of having her husband home for the birth of their baby, she received a call informing her that he had been seriously wounded and was on his way to Bethesda. Beth, a formidable woman of instant decision, concluded that “it was time to evict the baby.” So they induced labor and, as soon as she could walk out of the hospital, she boarded a plane with her newborn, bound for the East Coast.
For the next six months, Beth and her baby camped beside her husband’s bed as he went through numerous operations aimed at salvaging various pieces and parts of his body. He has battle scars, misses the odd fingers, has an arm that doesn’t work quite right yet, and is as warm and inviting a personality as you’d ever hope to meet.
And Beth is my hero. Notwithstanding Hillary Clinton’s famously dismissive comment, Beth is all about “stand by your man.” I casually observed that I found her commitment inspiring and admired her for it. She seemed genuinely surprised that I would find anything unusual or admirable about it. She said, “That’s what marriage is, isn’t it?”
Her husband knows how lucky he is to have her and told me so himself.
We arrived at their home bearing a Thanksgiving turkey and lots of accessories. Our goal was to introduce ourselves and start a conversation about what kind of help we can provide this Christmas. Beth had to quit her job to go be with her husband and so we suspect money may be very tight. And here is where the real insight about this couple comes into focus.
Beth is hesitant to say much of anything about her own needs, but specifically says that she really wants to be able to cook Christmas dinner for the guys in her husband’s unit who can’t be with their families. (Beth is half Italian and intends to cook her family’s traditional dinner of “turkey and spaghetti with meatballs.”) In the midst of her own suffering and her husband’s, her concern is to be a blessing to others.
Now, here’s my main point: My wife and I are happier and more thankful on account of having met Beth and her family. All the families who are coming together to help this Christmas are happy and thankful — and honored to play a part. We are astonished, stunned even, when we think of the great good cheer of Beth and her husband, and their concern for others, amid their own horrendous problems.
Where do we get such people? I’ve never been more grateful.