October 21, 2012 "Mr. President, can you tell me who was your roommate in college your junior year?" This is the 845th question that I've been asked in today's session.
October 20, 2012 Yesterday I passed a watermelon-red Olds 88 just like the one my grandfather drove in 1960. He was tall, white-haired and certain about things, the image of ancient to a 5-year-old.
October 20, 2012 Diane Branson was attempting to apply lipstick despite her shaking hand. How is it, she thought, that a word of only three letters could grow into such a continent of deceit?
October 20, 2012 It wasn't easy for the donors to find the space — close to the White House there wasn't much available. But they eventually found a building that was just big enough for a track.
October 20, 2012 At 2:30 a.m., the black sedan pulled up to the gate on Pennsylvania Avenue. Martin marveled how short a distance it was from the street to the threshold of world power. As he stepped from the car into the damp autumn night, he sensed a foreboding, underscored by the increased security presence.
October 19, 2012 It was an unimaginative cliche, and in this case, untrue. "He ties his shoes just like everyone else," someone in the diner said after the president and his entourage departed.
October 18, 2012 Light seeped out from under the door again. Marta rested her chin on the roll of paper towels that sat on top of her cart. For two years she had cleaned these rooms, late at night when everyone else was gone, and often that light was on.
October 14, 2012 He was tired. It was late. The president stood up, stretched and went looking for a cup of coffee from the Marines, the Secret Service having been sublet to Ireland.
October 13, 2012 President Williams sits nursing a beer in his private quarters. He feels confined, like a goldfish in a bowl. Between the Secret Service, his aides and the constant presence of the media pool, he rarely has a moment to himself.