The Words that Landed Me in the White House

On December 2, 2016 my phone rang. The term “Unknown Caller” triggered my immediate disinterest in answering. However, a minute later I was informed that a voicemail message had been left by this unknown caller. Now I was very interested, mostly for the comedy I was expecting to hear. Surely it was a prince from Nigeria looking to split his loot or an agency misinforming me that I’d won a cruise in the Caribbean. I gave it a listen.

“Good afternoon, this message is for Patrick Branigan. My name is __________. I’m a staffer in the Office of Presidential Correspondence at the White House. We received your letter from September 28, 2016 to President Obama. We want to gauge your interest in coming to D.C. for a tour of the White House on December 18. If you’re interested, feel free to call this number back. That’s ___-___-____. We would love to have you. Hope you’re having a great day.”

My day became cautiously great, thank you very much. First and foremost, I had nearly forgotten about the letter I wrote to President Obama over a month prior. I figured it wouldn’t make a profound impact. Secondly, I chuckled at the thought of this being one of the better marketing hoaxes I’d experienced. The White House seems a bit more sincere than a prince in Nigeria.

“Oh what the hell,” I thought. So I called back. I’m glad I did.

On December 19, 2016 I flew home to Boston from Washington, D.C. I spent 48 hours in a city I had never visited before (surprisingly)— shame on me. What better excuse to visit D.C. for the first time than to visit the White House, right? Its land, its history and its culture excited me more than I imagined it would, even if just for two days.

It turns out that the offer was very real. By Sunday night I had toured not only the White House’s inside living quarters but also the halls of the Eisenhower Executive Office Building (EEOB), second home to some of the most influential advisers in the administration. I witnessed the grandeur of the campus for nearly three hours and met some fine folks along the way — staffers, heads of strategy, and some deceivingly friendly Secret Service officials. The history, the architecture, the artwork, the decor, the libraries, the offices, the views and vantage points...they displayed so much lavish beauty without being overwhelmingly opulent (you know, like Trump’s penthouse in his high tower).

Getting into the White House is as you’d expect: filled with security checkpoints for obvious reasons. While I won’t go into detail as to the process you follow to enter the property, I will say it’s a surprisingly quick experience so long as you carry nothing, have no criminal record, and are expected (or invited) by the White House staff. I later found out that touring the White House isn’t necessarily easy. There are many steps to go through before being approved for a visit. That is, of course, unless they invite you.

Just beyond the first checkpoint I was greeted by a staffer who recognized me before I recognized them. The day before my visit I was enjoying a performance at the Kennedy Center when I received an email from White House correspondence (this individual) asking me if I’d be willing to read my letter on camera for a “project” they were working on. I couldn’t say no. It was an honor to be asked, and even more so once I found out there were fewer than ten others who had been asked to do the same. This staffer outlined what I needed to do, where I needed to be, and who I needed to find in order to gain access to the EEOB after I left the White House property. Seemed simple enough.

After several more checkpoints I found myself entering the White House through its pearly white doors.

I’m also going to omit details on exactly what I saw, where, and the logistics of the inside of the White House. I will say, however, that it was two hours of surrealism. I couldn’t help but find my mind saturated with the sensational feeling that I was walking, breathing and experiencing America’s story, past, present and future. There are sights you know from articles in history books. There are artifacts you see that you can’t believe were real. It’s an odd feeling knowing your walking through rooms that held JFK’s coffin, that hosted meetings between the world’s super powers, and that simultaneously served as the regular living quarters for the first family all at once.

By the time I exited the front door I was in awe. I turned around and had one good look at it’s exterior, noticing from the front that so many of the news stories I’d witnessed on television were broadcasted from where I was standing. As I stood there I reflected, like I did in each of the inside rooms. It was crazy to think this experience was entirely possible because of a simple letter I wrote, one I had to now prepare to read to an unknown audience.

As I passed through security with the staffer I was issued a tag which I later found out is a very important item to keep on you at all times. I can imagine the data this thing relays as you move through the corridors of the EEOB. Nevertheless, while intimidating, the EEOB was a much more condensed entry process.

I walked through the bright halls of the building noticing the high ceilings and gleaming floors. They were lined with large wooden doors on both sides, each acting as an entrance into the complex world of any one of the administration’s advisors. The titles I saw were those that I recognized from the news articles and media coverage of the past eight years. Again, it was a fairly surreal experience. We moved through libraries, empty and haunted with intricate detailing. We passed through many corridors, some seemingly lost or hidden among the rest of the facility. We climbed staircases, spiraling, twirling into delightful displays painted on arches and ceilings by who knows what artist. Had it not been for the staffer’s guidance I would have surely lost myself in this building’s halls.

Then we arrived. It was a recording suite where Vice President Biden often delivers his addresses. I was told the very chair I sat in, the setting which I was surrounded by, was the very spot where both the President and the Vice President delivered addresses many times especially for their .gov website and social media efforts.

I waited outside, rehearsing maybe once. They provided my letter on paper, gave me water and chatted with me. It was all very casual. I thought if I were to read my letter beforehand it might make it seem less genuine so I didn’t bother. Instead, I waited my turn. Ten minutes later I entered the recording suite and delivered my letter to the camera in a single take.

I don’t know what the future holds for the White House. I don’t know what the future holds for America. What I do know is that I was young, still fairly immature, and not really attentive eight years ago when the last major transition happened. Reflection is something I take part in often. It grounds me. It holds time hostage and allows for me to be humble knowing that I’ve experienced so much. It reminds me to not take anything for granted and to move forward without regret.

To have been invited to the White House was an honor. To have been invited because I put my reflection in words is an even greater honor. At my foundation I am a moderate human being, one that has hopes not to completely change the world but to simply be heard.

September 28, 2016

Mr. President,

I want you to know that in 2009 I was in my junior year of college when you were voted to be the next President by the people. I remember where I was, what I was doing, what I was wearing, and what I was thinking when I realized you were indeed to be the next President, and the first African-American President of the United States. I’m a registered Republican (though I’ve tried twice to switch parties), and I didn’t vote for you because I couldn’t believe in the “hope” message. I’m a designer — I’m familiar with persuasion and how to manipulate people through emotion and visual stimulation. I couldn’t help but be skeptical.

I want you to know that now, I’ve never felt more proud of my country. Here I am, now 28 years of age, a successful designer, engaged to the woman of my dreams and enjoying my good health, family, and the world that I live in. Ironically it is perhaps one of the most scary times in my lifetime. However, over the past eight years you’ve brought a pensive, decent, thought-provoking approach and (dare I say) swagger to everything you’ve done. You speak graciously, you show emotion and as your presidency has aged, you’ve proven to me, and to so many others, that while in the moment we all might disagree, in the moment you were abiding by your best judgement, and more importantly your heart. And this is exactly what I have wished for out of the President of the Untied States.

I’m sad that your presidency is coming to an end. However I’m thankful that I was here to experience it. Like you, I abide by what I believe in. Like you, I make it a point to not conclude, assume or judge, but assess, observe and consider my options when faced with challenge or adversity. Like you, I’m trying to build a life around me that not only supports my interests but the interests of the people I walk this earth with.

I want you to know that I appreciate you, your administration, the first family and everything you’ve done for us these past eight years. Believe me when I say there are people among the masses that quietly paid attention, that observed from the shadows and that smiled more and more as time went on because the “hope” we didn’t buy into at first eventually began to instill itself into us in more ways than you could have predicted in 2009, much thanks to you.

I sincerely hope you’re able to read this and I understand my tongue makes it seem as though it’s over tomorrow…but I’ve never done something like this before nor would twenty year old me ever have imagined writing you this eight years later.

The best to you, to your family, and though I’m not a religious man, God bless America.

Sincerely,

Patrick Branigan