Carter - Sharing Good Times

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A LSO BY J IMMY C ARTER

The Hornets Nest

The Nobel Peace Prize Lecture

Christmas in Plains

An Hour Before Daylight

The Virtues of Aging

Sources of Strength: Meditations on Scripture for a Living Faith

Living Faith

The Little Baby Snoogle-Fleejer (illustrated by Amy Carter)

Always a Reckoning, and Other Poems

Talking Peace: A Vision for the Next Generation

Turning Point: A Candidate, a State, and a Nation Come of Age

An Outdoor Journal: Adventures and Reflections

Everything to Gain: Making the Most of the Rest of Your Life (with Rosalynn Carter)

The Blood of Abraham: Insights into the Middle East

Negotiation: The Alternative to Hostility

Keeping Faith: Memoirs of a President

A Government As Good As Its People

Why Not the Best?

SIMON & SCHUSTER PAPERBACKS

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Copyright 2004 by Jimmy Carter All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

First Simon & Schuster paperback edition 2005

S IMON & S CHUSTER P APERBACKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

Book design by Ellen R. Sasahara

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Carter, Jimmy.

Sharing good times / Jimmy Carter.

p. cm.

1. Carter, Jimmy, 1924 2. Carter, Jimmy, 1924 Family. 3. Carter, Jimmy, 1924 Philosophy. 4. Miscellanea. 5. LeisureMiscellanea. 6. Conduct of lifeMiscellanea. 7. PresidentsUnited StatesBiography.

E873.2.C379 2004

973.926'092dc 22

2004051351

ISBN-13: 978-0-7432-7033-5

ISBN-10: 0-7432-7033-9

ISBN-13: 978-0-7432-7068-7 (Pbk)

ISBN-10: 0-7432-7068-1 (Pbk)

ISBN-13: 978-0-7432-7352-7 (eBook)

To Mary Prince, whom we love and cherish

I N THE PAST, I have written about history, political science, religion, the technique of negotiation, outdoor experiences, a novel about the Revolutionary War, a book of poetry, and a presidential memoirall fairly serious subjects. This book is about the more challenging, relaxing, and enjoyable experiences that I have knownboth at work and at play. I have described personal hobbies, excursions to exotic places, political campaigns, volunteer work, fishing, skiing, climbing mountains, baseball, family vacations, and simply relaxed days and nights with little to do except exchange memories and ideas with family and friends across the years and across generations.

Few of these adventures have been especially newsworthy, and I still enjoy some of them in solitude, but the main lesson I have struggled to learn is that the experiences are more deep and lasting sources of pleasure when they are shared with others.

It has not been easy for me to accept this fact. Perhaps like most other people, I have had to overcome a self-centered inclination to live on my own terms, sometimes obsessed with intense ambition, bringing others into the private recesses of my life only reluctantly. Ive come to realize that even my loved ones and I could enjoy the same event without really sharing the essence of it, and that it takes a lot of effort to sense and accommodate the desires of others in a generous way. This lifetime of learning has paid rich dividends, for me and for those with whom I have learned to really share.

I hope that these personal experiences will prove to be a practical and inspirational guide to anyone desiring to stretch mind and heart, to combine work and pleasure, and to reach out to others.

A S A LITTLE BOY, I lived within a protective cocoon, sharing all my experiences with other people. Our home was in an isolated farm community named Archery, and all our neighbors were black families. My father, Earl, was a hardworking producer of pine timber, corn, cotton, peanuts, pork, beef, milk, wool, and other agricultural products who tried to market everything possible at a retail level, directly to consumers. His income varied widely, depending on the weather or market values at harvesttime, both equally unpredictable. My mother, Lillian, served as a registered nurse, and her duties were either in the nearby Wise Sanitarium, where she was in charge of the operating room, or on private duty to patients in the hospital or in their own homes. Always on call, she knew in advance what her compensation should be: four dollars for twelve-hour duty in the hospital or six dollars for twenty-hour duty in homes. Her payment from most of the local families was always uncertain, rarely in cash and mostly in chickens, eggs, a shoat or two, or sometimes some highly flammable turpentine chips, with which we could most easily start fires for heating the house or cooking.

Since my parents were often away from home and I had little in common with my younger sisters, I spent most of my waking hours with my black playmates and their families. It seemed that our friendships were strengthened as we cooperatedand competedwith one another. These earliest years were when I truly shared almost all aspects of my life with others.

As the wonders of the world were revealed to us, none were really complete until A.D., Johnny, Milton, Edmund, and I had absorbed them together. The struggle of a newborn mule colt to stand alone on wobbly legs, the opening eyes of a litter of puppies, the death throes of an enormous wharf rat that had eaten a bait of strychnine, a long string of catfish from the nearby creek, a ram mounting a compliant ewe, or a ride in a new goat cart had only partial meaning to us little children until we had shared the experience with each other. There had to be the proffering of individual opinions, a thorough discussion, and then some kind of consensus before we could add one more item to our store of knowledge. It was as though ten eyes and five brains were acting in concert. When the time came in our legally segregated society, I had to go to school exclusively with other white students, but I was always eager to return home to be with my closest and permanent friends.

I came to realize that my life, of necessity, would be compartmentalized, and I carved out some areas of interest or pleasure that would be almost exclusively my own. As an avid reader, I discovered a new and private world. My primary request to Santa Claus and as each birthday approached was for books, and I lost myself in them. Increasingly during the following years, I found that few of the elements of my school life were of interest to my playmates on the farm, but we still retained our close friendship and continued to spend afternoon hours during the school year and all day during vacations together.

There was no distinction among us because of our different colored skin or social status as we competed in boxing, wrestling, running, fishing, exploring, playing baseball, and working in the fields as we became increasingly able. Then, when we were about fourteen years old, my black friends began deferring to meperhaps they were instructed to do so by their parents as we approached maturityand the intimate sharing of our childhood was finally changed into merely enjoying the same events.