Chapter 10
While the White House is a beautiful landmark, it’s the people working there who make it such an incredibly special home. Many of them have been there for decades and take tremendous pride in making the First Family feel cared for, and ensuring that the building’s long history is preserved.
When we lived at the residence, as it’s affectionately called, there was a constant ebb and flow of people at all hours.
Briefing papers were delivered at dawn. I’d awaken looking up at a huge chandelier in the middle of the room, and at one of my favorite paintings, the lush and cheerful Pennsylvania Peonies, by Delawarean Mary Page Evans.
Most nights, Joe and I would eat dinner in a room called the Yellow Oval, in front of the fireplace.
In the winter, the snowfalls were ethereal when viewed from those big windows in all the rooms. When I returned from teaching, I’d spread a blanket over the radiator covers by the windows in our bedroom.
That’s where I’d sit to drink tea and write or grade papers.
Nobody looking in could see me there because a huge magnolia tree was just outside.
I am always making lists on scraps of paper—holiday shopping lists, to-do lists, grocery lists.
I recently found one that I wrote almost twenty years ago in which I listed some of the things I couldn’t live without.
They included the ocean, the full moon, the warmth of the sun, a view of the lake, my garden, books, my grandchildren laughing, and an animal in the house.
To me, a house is not a home without a pet.
I think there are pet people and non-pet people; you either love animals or you don’t. We’re a family that’s always had pets.
“That cat thinks she’s a dog!” Joe said when I adopted a little gray tabby from a barn in Pennsylvania while out on the campaign trail.
Not that I felt I had much say in bringing Willow home—she marched right up and insisted.
Full of personality and—Joe was right—a puppylike confidence, once we were finally able to bring her to the White House, she settled in right away.
Mornings when I went to work, she headed straight to the stairwell and went to spend the day with the people who took care of the house. They had a little bed up there for her and special food dishes and a litter box, and they called her “Willita.”
During our time in the White House, I wrote a children’s book about Willow—how I came to adopt her, and how she spent her time sleeping in the Oval Office or watching me read to children on the lawn. I loved seeing Willow bring joy to children, just as she brings joy to us.
Flowers have always been an important part of my life, too.
I planted a cutting garden at the White House so I could take bouquets to friends or acquaintances who were sick, had suffered the loss of a loved one, or just needed a pick-me-up.
My mother always had a simple garden and made it a point to have flowers on the dinner table.
I took flower arranging in college as one of my electives.
The White House florist, Hedieh Ghaffarian, placed flowers in every room in the most creative, beautiful ways.
Sometimes, after a really hard day, I’d find a stunning bouquet by my bed.
I prefer low vases with fun mixes of flowers to tight bouquets, so that’s what Hedieh would arrange.
The First Lady gets to choose the color of the tulips that surround the White House fountains.
I chose different colors each year. In 2023, they were red, pink, and pink-and-white.
That same year, the Dutch ambassador presented me with my own namesake flower: a reddish-orange tulip with fringed petals.
The tradition of presenting the First Lady with a signature tulip dates back to the late 1800s, with Grover Cleveland’s wife, Frances Folsom.
At the gifting ceremony held at the Danish embassy, I said, “In this happy time, let these tulips’ dazzling orange be a reminder of the many springs our nations have shared. ”
The ground floor of the White House is where the public tours are held.
As a teacher, I knew the tours needed improving when I saw young people zoning out on their phones rather than looking around as they walked through the building.
For starters, I swapped out some of the nineteenth-century presidential portraits and moved some more recent portraits of contemporary First Ladies, people who guests would know, into the public spaces.
Then I worked with the History Channel, the National Park Service, the White House Historical Association, and ESI Design, an immersive design firm, to change the White House visit experience from a traditional walk-through tour to an interactive educational one.
I know that learning involves multisensory elements, so I wanted to incorporate the senses of sight, sound, and touch.
I thought it was important that the tone be warm and inviting from beginning to end.
We created an architectural model of the White House and used it to explain the ways in which the building had evolved from its inception.
The Diplomatic Reception Room was now included on the tour.
Its walls are covered with a French panorama wallpaper called Les vues d’Amérique du Nord (“Views of North America”) that dates back to 1834.
It was installed in 1961 by Jacqueline Kennedy as part of her effort to decorate the White House with scenes designed to make Americans feel proud of their shared history.
Rather than just a tour guide mentioning FDR’s fireside chats, an old radio played his addresses in a room where you could actually touch the marble of the fireplace.
In the new tour, guests could go farther into the rooms instead of just peering through a crowded doorway.
We changed the stationary pictures in the East Wing colonnade to digital ones.
Every few moments, the screen would show a new scene from the life of a presidential family. It was much more dynamic.
I tried to warm up our private spaces, too.
Upstairs, I hung family photos and some of the grandchildren’s art—Maisy is an incredibly talented visual artist—on white linen painter’s cloth, added wallpaper, and brought in a small forest’s worth of plants.
I also tried to liven up the art on display, because many of the paintings had been in the same place so long that their identifying name plates were scuffed to the point that you could hardly read them.
With the help of my friend Ellen Susman, the former director of the Art in Embassies program, I put together a collection with work loaned by the Hirshhorn, the National Gallery, and individuals who told us they were honored to be included.
I hung work by artists like Mark Rothko, Alex Katz, Hans Hofmann, Ellsworth Kelly, and Sylvia Plimack Mangold.
The first time I saw the dining room, I gasped. “The Diebenkorn and Albers really make the room sing,” Ellen said.
My East Wing office felt like no other part of the White House.
Our granddaughter Finnegan had suggested asking the designer Mark D.
Sikes to help make it feel both elegant and cozy.
We put in blue-and-white-striped silk fabric, and I added a portrait of the family taken by Annie Leibovitz alongside the grandkids’ artwork.
Natalie and Little Hunter had painted self-portraits in their high school art classes and given them to me as Christmas gifts.
An artist named Terry Romero Paul had sent me an oil painting of the army boots Beau had worn in Iraq.
Hunter gave me my favorite painting of his one year for Christmas, a bird in shades of blue.
It was the focal point of the room as you walked through the doors.
To bring nature inside, there were ficus trees in the corners and flowers on the tables.
My office looked out over the Jacqueline Kennedy Garden.
I couldn’t thank the National Parks Service enough for tending to the grounds with such loving care.
The flower beds were breathtaking in any season.
I’d often meet with friends or staff in the white gazebo there.
My bookshelves were filled with books given to me by authors Ann Patchett, Barbara Kingsolver, and Jesmyn Ward; the White House Historical Association; and others.
Several items of interest—White House–themed Easter eggs, a piece of shrapnel from the war in Ukraine, baskets given to me by Native Americans—adorned the shelves.
Ginger-lemon tea with honey—or something harder—was available on my tea cart for guests.
I always looked forward to working there with my staff around a long rectangular table or settled into my comfortable blue velvet couch or chairs. I wanted my guests to feel welcome, and I wanted my staff to feel as though we were in a place where everyone’s opinions were welcome.
First Ladies usually take a few months to assemble their senior staff.
Mine was ready to go on day one: Julissa Reynoso Pantaleón was my chief of staff.
Carlos Elizondo was my social secretary.
Mala Adiga was my policy director. Elizabeth Alexander was my communications director.
Anthony Bernal, who had been with me since 2008, continued to hold us all together.