President Obama Speaks on the Death of Nelson Mandela
Published on Dec 5, 2013
President Obama says that Nelson Mandela's journey from a prisoner to President embodied the promise that human beings, and countries, can change for the better, and asks that we pause and give thanks for the fact that Mandela lived -- a man who took history in his hands, and bent the arc of the moral universe toward justice.
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Statement by the President on the Death of Nelson Mandela
James S. Brady Press Briefing Room
December 05, 2013 5:25 P.M. EST
THE PRESIDENT: At his trial in 1964, Nelson Mandela closed his statement from the dock saying, “I have fought against white domination, and I have fought against black domination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.”
And Nelson Mandela lived for that ideal, and he made it real. He achieved more than could be expected of any man. Today, he has gone home. And we have lost one of the most influential, courageous, and profoundly good human beings that any of us will share time with on this Earth. He no longer belongs to us -- he belongs to the ages.
Through his fierce dignity and unbending will to sacrifice his own freedom for the freedom of others, Madiba transformed South Africa -- and moved all of us. His journey from a prisoner to a President embodied the promise that human beings -- and countries -- can change for the better. His commitment to transfer power and reconcile with those who jailed him set an example that all humanity should aspire to, whether in the lives of nations or our own personal lives. And the fact that he did it all with grace and good humor, and an ability to acknowledge his own imperfections, only makes the man that much more remarkable. As he once said, “I am not a saint, unless you think of a saint as a sinner who keeps on trying.”
I am one of the countless millions who drew inspiration from Nelson Mandela's life. My very first political action, the first thing I ever did that involved an issue or a policy or politics, was a protest against apartheid. I studied his words and his writings. The day that he was released from prison gave me a sense of what human beings can do when they’re guided by their hopes and not by their fears. And like so many around the globe, I cannot fully imagine my own life without the example that Nelson Mandela set, and so long as I live I will do what I can to learn from him.
To Graça Machel and his family, Michelle and I extend our deepest sympathy and gratitude for sharing this extraordinary man with us. His life’s work meant long days away from those who loved him the most. And I only hope that the time spent with him these last few weeks brought peace and comfort to his family.
To the people of South Africa, we draw strength from the example of renewal, and reconciliation, and resilience that you made real. A free South Africa at peace with itself -- that’s an example to the world, and that’s Madiba’s legacy to the nation he loved.
We will not likely see the likes of Nelson Mandela again. So it falls to us as best we can to forward the example that he set: to make decisions guided not by hate, but by love; to never discount the difference that one person can make; to strive for a future that is worthy of his sacrifice.
For now, let us pause and give thanks for the fact that Nelson Mandela lived -- a man who took history in his hands, and bent the arc of the moral universe toward justice. May God Bless his memory and keep him in peace.
Video [embedded] [Obama's statement, (much better video, with transcript) above] President Obama Remembers Mandela: Mr. Obama spoke of an “influential, courageous and profoundly good” man, who was an inspiration and a model for many, including himself.
WASHINGTON — Without Nelson Mandela, there might never have been a President Obama.
That is the strong impression conveyed from Mr. Obama, whose political and personal bonds to Mr. Mandela, the former South African president, transcended their single face-to-face meeting, which took place at a hotel here in 2005.
It was the fight for racial justice in South Africa by Mr. Mandela that first inspired a young Barack Obama to public service, the American president recalled on Thursday evening after hearing that Mr. Mandela, the 95-year-old world icon, had died. Mr. Obama delivered his first public speech, in 1979, at an anti-apartheid rally.
Mr. Obama’s first moment on the public stage was the start of a life and political career imbued with the kind of hope that Mr. Mandela personified. “The day that he was released from prison gave me a sense of what human beings can do when they’re guided by their hopes and not by their fears,” Mr. Obama said on Thursday.
“Hope” would eventually become the mantra for his ascension to the White House.
On two continents separated by thousands of miles and vastly different political cultures, the lives of the two men rarely intersected. Weeks before their only meeting, Mr. Obama wrote Mr. Mandela a letter that Oprah Winfrey carried to South Africa. As Mr. Obama later emerged as a national political leader, he and Mr. Mandela occasionally traded phone calls or letters.
But the trajectories of the two leaders, who broke political and social barriers in their own countries, were destined to be connected, even if mostly from afar. Mr. Obama wrote about Mr. Mandela as a distant but inspirational figure in the forward to Mr. Mandela’s 2010 book, “Conversations With Myself.”
“His sacrifice was so great that it called upon people everywhere to do what they could on behalf of human progress,” Mr. Obama wrote. “In the most modest of ways, I was one of those people who tried to answer his call.”
Mr. Mandela and Mr. Obama served as the first black leaders of their nations and both were looked to by some as the vehicles for reconciliation between polarized electorates. Both won the Nobel Peace Prize, in part for their charisma and their ability to inspire and communicate.
Mr. Obama often referred to Mr. Mandela by the former president’s clan name, Madiba — a term of affection for the aging, beloved leader in South Africa. On Thursday, Mr. Obama spoke of the goals that Mr. Mandela worked decades for, and eventually achieved.
“A free South Africa at peace with itself — that’s an example to the world, and that’s Madiba’s legacy to the nation he loved,” Mr. Obama said from the White House as news of Mr. Mandela’s death spread.
But the American president regularly shied from direct comparisons with Mr. Mandela. Mr. Obama often noted privately and publicly that his sacrifices would never compare to Mr. Mandela’s.
Aides to Mr. Obama said he was uncomfortable when people drew parallels between them, as they often did. Robert Gibbs, the former White House press secretary, accompanied Mr. Obama on his first visit to the tiny prison cell on Robben Island where Mr. Mandela had been jailed for years.
“Having stood in that space that day, you realize that whatever analogies you might draw, that Mandela is and always will be a singular figure in the history of the world,” Mr. Gibbs recalled this summer. “I don’t think the president would look at even the hardest days as equal even to the very best day that he might have spent inside of Robben Island.”
And yet, the struggle by Mr. Mandela has been a beacon to Mr. Obama, drawing him to South Africa twice to pay homage.
The last trip came in June of this year, as Mr. Obama traveled to Senegal, Tanzania and South Africa on a visit overshadowed by the possibility that the ailing Mr. Mandela might die at any moment.
On the trip, Mr. Obama did not visit with Mr. Mandela, who was fighting a lung infection. Officials said a visit would have been disruptive and unhelpful to Mr. Mandela’s recovery. Instead, Mr. Obama and the first lady, Michelle Obama, visited with Mr. Mandela’s family.
“I don’t need a photo-op, and the last thing I want to do is to be in any way obtrusive at a time when the family is concerned about Nelson Mandela’s condition,” Mr. Obama said at the time.
During the trip, Mr. Obama reflected repeatedly on the impact Mr. Mandela had on him, and people around the world. Moments before he again stood in the cell on Robben Island, Mr. Obama told his daughters of Mr. Mandela’s legacy.
“One thing you guys might not be aware of is that the idea of political nonviolence first took root here in South Africa because Mahatma Gandhi was a lawyer here in South Africa,” the president told them. “When he went back to India the principles ultimately led to Indian independence, and what Gandhi did inspired Martin Luther King.”
In a speech to students at Cape Town University, Mr. Obama lauded Mr. Mandela as a leader whose “spirit could never be imprisoned” and a man who serves as an inspiration for all.
“Nelson Mandela showed us that one man’s courage can move the world,” Mr. Obama told the students. “And he calls on us to make choices that reflect not our fears, but our hopes — in our own lives, and in the lives of our communities and our countries.”
The 2005 meeting between Mr. Obama and Mr. Mandela was brief, just a few minutes, as a young American senator shook the hands of an elderly man. The moment was captured in a photograph taken by Mr. Obama’s driver. It shows Mr. Obama, silhouetted against a bright window, holding hands with Mr. Mandela, who is reclining on a couch.
One copy of the photograph has sat for years on a desk in Mr. Mandela’s office in South Africa. Another copy is on Mr. Obama’s desk in the Oval Office.
Mandela. One name. One man. One mission: Saving a nation from itself.
Few men in the history of mankind have had more impact on a nation and inspired the world.
Mandela.
He led his country from the viciousness of apartheid to the glory of a multiracial democracy, peacefully.
Has an individual ever given more to a nation and a cause? Only those who have sacrificed their very lives.
Mr. Mandela could have easily spent those 27 years of incarceration abroad, protesting the evil from afar, safe from repercussions. Not him. If his people suffered, he would suffer with them.
I know something about protest. I know well the feelings and questions that run through the mind of those who stand against a system, braving everything for a cause. It is never easy. The personal price is high, but the greatest of people persevere for the greater good. Modern South Africa is built on the back of Mr. Mandela's sacrifice. It still amazes me, even to this day, that a man could give up two and half decades of his life, emerge from prison and forgive his imprisoners.
The Zulu word ubuntu best describes him: my humanity is through you. Mr. Mandela was able, despite all the evil done to him, to see the humanity of those who punished him. He was able to look into their souls and see something worth redeeming. This is a lesson that should be learned by the world: There is humanity, even in the worst of us. If only the leaders of nations would embrace his method, there would be peace throughout the world. He proved there is always a way to reconcile differences.
As Mr. Mandela walked to freedom, I thought about him in that cell, brave and proud and unbroken, fueled only by the power of his beliefs for all those years. His iron resolve was a beacon for that nation, and on that great day, South Africans followed that powerful, inspirational light out of bondage.
Later, I was amazed to discover that Mr. Mandela used to listen to my fights when he was imprisoned on Robben Island. That humbling revelation moved me to tears. There he was, a king in exile, being lifted up by my ring exploits. Had I known he was listening to Ali-Frazier I, I probably would've beaten Joe that night. I was always the greatest when I was fighting for something.
Mr. Mandela is considered a chief of his tribe; his family name is Mandiba. But he represents a much larger tribe. He is the chief of the tribe of courage, and decency for all of mankind. There is not a more significant, important, profound world leader of this century.
A hundred years from now, they will speak his name, and somewhere a child will be imbued with his spirit and use that inspiration to achieve greatness. This is his legacy, a path of light for generations to come. Can there be anything greater to leave behind?
For good reasons, Mr. Mandela is also called Tata, father. He is indeed the father of his nation. But because he has lived his life in service to others, been a warrior for freedom, an avatar of personal sacrifice, he is also the father of nations -- Tata to the world.
I salute this greatest of men and feel honored and blessed to have lived through the time of Mandela.
This post is part of a series marking the theatrical release of Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom, a new film starring Idris Elba and based on South African President Nelson Mandela's autobiography of the same name. Film opens in select theaters November 29. View the full series of celebrity tributes at http://www.aol.com/mandela and learn more about the film at http://www.mandelafilm.com .
The Religious, Spiritual, Humanist Worldview And Inspiring Legacy Of Nelson Mandela
Posted: 12/06/2013 3:47 pm EST | Updated: 12/06/2013 4:11 pm EST
Nelson Mandela was one of the most important figures in the 20th century. In his struggle to free South Africa from apartheid, Mandela embodied the power of the human spirit in overcoming systemic oppression, offering hope to millions around the world who continue to strive for a more just and peaceful world. His autobiography Long Walk To Freedom [ http://www.amazon.com/Long-Walk-Freedom-Autobiography-Mandela/dp/0316548189 ] is the best source for understanding his religious, spiritual and humanist worldview, and most of the quotes in this overview come from that text, unless otherwise stated.
Mandela's mother was Methodist and Nelson was baptized Methodist too, though his father was a priest in his village:
He did not need to be ordained, for the traditional religion of the Xhosas is characterized by a cosmic wholeness, so that there is little distinction between the sacred and the secular.
He was quite religious for a time, as much of his education was received in Methodist schools. This influence inspired an appreciation for not only the spiritual contributions of the church, but also its importance in advancing the social needs of the people:
The Church was as concerned with this world as the next: I saw that virtually all of the achievements of Africans seemed to have come about through the missionary work of the Church.
However, later in life he also recognized how the church, specifically the Dutch Reform Church, was complicit in oppression of the African people, saying:
The (apartheid) policy was supported by the Dutch Reform Church, which furnished apartheid with its religious underpinnings by suggesting that Afrikaners were God's chosen people and that blacks were a subservient species. In the Afrikaner's worldview, apartheid and the church went hand in hand.
Another insight into the religious world view of Mandela came in the discussion of the use of violent vs. non-violent means in the struggle against apartheid. In Long Walk To Freedom, Mandela explains his difference of opinion on non-violence with Mahatma Gandhi's son, Manilal Gandhi, who was the editor of the newspaper Indian Opinion:
I saw nonviolence in the Gandhian model not as an inviolable principle but as a tactic to be used as the situation demanded. The principle was not so important that the strategy should be used even when it was self- defeating, as Gandhi himself believed. I called for nonviolent protest for as long as it was effective. This view prevailed, despite Manilal Gandhi's strong objections.
I think what happened to him in prison was something that you have to now accept my authority for it, that suffering can do one of two things to a person. It can make you bitter and hard and really resentful of things. Or as it seems to do with very many people--it is like fires of adversity that toughen someone. They make you strong but paradoxically also they make you compassionate, and gentle. I think that that is what happened to him.
The power of this transformation carried over into his worldview. He wrote about universal concern for humanity and justice for all in his autobiography, on the night of his election as President of South Africa:
From the moment the results were in and it was apparent that the ANC was to form the government, I saw my mission as one of preaching reconciliation, of binding the wounds of the country, of engendering trust and confidence. I knew that many people, particularly the minorities, whites, Coloureds, and Indians, would be feeling anxious about the future, and I wanted them to feel secure. I reminded people again and again that the liberation struggle was not a battle against any one group or color, but a fight against a system of repression. At every opportunity, I said all South Africans must now unite and join hands and say we are one country, one nation, one people, marching together into the future.
Perhaps nothing signifies Nelson Mandela's religious ideals more than the Commission on Truth and Reconciliation that he set up with Archbishop Desmond Tutu. It serves as a testament to the idea that past wrongs should be identified and atoned for, and while not forgotten, they might be forgiven.
Now the challenge is for all of us to protect our democratic gains like the apple of our eye. It is for those who have the means, to contribute to the efforts to repair the damage brought by the past. It is for those who have suffered losses of different kinds and magnitudes to be afforded reparation, proceeding from the premise that freedom and dignity are the real prize that our sacrifices were meant to attain. Free at last, we are all masters of our destiny. A better future depends on all of us lending a hand - your hand, my hand.
In the end, perhaps the idea that best sums up Nelson Mandela's religious and spiritual outlook is the African concept of Ubuntu. Nelson Mandela himself explained the concept in this video [ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HED4h00xPPA (below, as embedded)]:
A traveller through a country would stop at a village and he didn't have to ask for food or for water. Once he stops, the people give him food, entertain him. That is one aspect of Ubuntu, but it will have various aspects. Ubuntu does not mean that people should not enrich themselves. The question therefore is: Are you going to do so in order to enable the community around you to be able to improve?
Don’t Sanitize Nelson Mandela: He’s Honored Now, But Was Hated Then If we turn the late South African leader into a nonthreatening moral icon, we’ll forget a key lesson from his life: America isn’t always a force for freedom. December 5th 2013 http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2013/12/05/don-t-sanitize-nelson-mandela-he-s-honored-now-but-was-hated-then.html [with embedded video "Facts and figures from Nelson Mandela’s life, set to the trailer from ‘Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom.’", and comments]
'Now I Can Die in Peace': Nelson Mandela’s Long Return Home
The coffin of former South African President Nelson Mandela is carried on a gun carriage for a traditional burial after a funeral ceremony in Qunu, on December 15. (Reuters/Felix Dlangamandla/Pool)
The South African leader’s six-year campaign to say goodbye.
Douglas Foster Dec 15 2013, 11:21 AM ET
“Now I can die in peace,” Nelson Mandela said, his words nearly drowned out by a howling wind. There was a sharp intake of breath from a few of us drawn close enough to hear him. “Don’t say that, Madiba—please,” murmured the man standing next to me, using Mandela’s clan name. We’d perched at the edge of a platform on a rocky bluff in Mvezo, the impoverished village where the former freedom fighter was born in 1918. The occasion was the elevation of his eldest grandson, Mandlasizwe, to become nkosi, or traditional leader, of the village.
Mandela had flown into town by helicopter. He flashed his megawatt smile as he ambled in alongside his wife, Graca Machel, and his grandsons. Behind him, you could see the low rolling hills bowed down to the Mbashe River, muddy with silt, in the valley below. This was terrain where he first “learned to knock birds out of the sky with a slingshot, to gather wild honey and fruits and edible roots, to drink warm, sweet milk straight from the udder of a cow, and to swim in the clear, cold streams, and to catch fish with twine and sharpened bits of wire,” he wrote, in his autobiography [ http://www.amazon.com/Long-Walk-Freedom-Abacus-Anniversary-ebook/dp/B00CAUHF6U ].
When it was Mandela’s turn to speak, at the end of the ceremony in which his grandson was anointed and wrapped in the skins of lions, the ex-lawyer, ex-guerrilla leader, ex-president, and current icon looked quite stern. He tucked his chin in, a little like a schoolteacher calling errant pupils to order. He’d insisted on walking by himself over uneven ground, looking wiry, trim, and quite vulnerable. Waving off assistance offered by his wife and two men who stood by, poised to catch him if he fell, he hauled himself up a short flight of steep steps on spindly arms and legs. A furious wind bullied him from one side and then battered him from the other as dogs howled, wagging their whip-like tails. Mandela gripped both sides of the podium, recalling the history of his clan and reaching back for generations. He spoke with special feeling and at length about his grandfather and father, as if to emphasize his own modest contribution to family history.
Watching the week-long succession of mass events to mark Mandela’s life and death, which began with the chaotic memorial service in Soweto on Tuesday and ended with his burial in his childhood village of Qunu, not far from Mvezo, on Sunday, it struck me that I’d been lucky enough to witness, up close, the start of Mandela’s final big political campaign. His talk in the village on that gray day in the autumn of 2007 was the beginning of a six-year-long exercise in saying goodbye. The speech circled, in his characteristically stilted public speaking style, around the need for modesty, restraint, and humility. It was at home a half dozen years ago that he first tried on themes for this final message.
No other contemporary political leader insisted so regularly that he was just an “ordinary man” who’d simply done his duty as he understood it. Few world leaders were as relentlessly self-critical, either. In diary notes, collected in Conversations with Myself [ http://www.amazon.com/Conversations-Myself-Nelson-Mandela/dp/0312611684 ], Mandela regularly emphasized his “weaknesses, errors, and indiscretions,” as if arguing against the more heroic version from his bestselling autobiography, which is also the basis of the feature film by Anant Singh that virtually sanctifies him. In an entry in 1998, he ended on a stunningly self-lacerating note: “One issue that deeply worried me in prison was the false image that I unwittingly projected to the outside world; of being regarded as a saint. I never was one, even on the basis of an earthly definition of a saint as a sinner who keeps on trying.” Mandela felt particularly aggrieved about the myriad ways he felt sure he’d failed his own family, and also his countrymen.
His talk to the small crowd in the village of his birth underscored this message. Many political leaders remain stubbornly sure of their singularly heroic qualities and indispensable roles in society, in life, in history. In effect, the man celebrated as the father of modern South Africa kept insisting, instead, upon his own dispensability. Of course, his periodic expressions of such humility had the opposite effect of the one he apparently intended, inspiring even more ardent waves of admiration. The last time I saw him, after the World Cup in 2010, Mandela greeted my son and me with a little joke: “Ah, it’s nice that the young people still come around to see an old man even though he has nothing new to say.” We laughed, but I thought there was a nice needle wrapped inside the quip. He seemed to be saying that his contribution to the creation of a new kind of society—non-racial, non-sexist, anti-homophobic, and more egalitarian—was over, but his visitors ought to feel free to ask themselves what they’d done recently to move the world closer to that ideal.
This past week, Mandela’s body traced the trajectory of his life—only the coffin made the journey in reverse. As a boy, Mandela wandered through the hills of Qunu as a shoeless goatherd. Like so many young men for generations, he migrated to Gold Reef City—Johannesburg—where he rose in status as a lawyer and then traded everything away for political struggle. His body traveled with an honor guard from the jazzy and hyper-kinetic metropolis of Johannesburg, through the staid and portentous seat of executive power in Pretoria, back to the dusty hills of Qunu. The village where he insisted upon being buried, and which welcomed thousands of visitors from all over the world on Sunday, was, Mandela wrote, a “place apart, a tiny precinct removed from the world of great events, where life was lived much as it had been for hundreds of years.” Mandela bridged the world of the rural amaqaba, Xhosa-speaking traditionalists, and the amagqoboka, more educated Christians. His burial reflected that, incorporating Christian rites, the pomp of a state funeral, and traditional rituals to ensure that his Thembu ancestors welcome him into the supernatural fold.
Mandela’s death has left us with a contradiction to work out: How do we square the notion, advanced by President Barack Obama, among others, that Mandela was singularly gifted at crossing numerous divides, with the notion, advanced by the man himself, that he was nothing more than a flawed product of quite common materials? Shortly after the ceremony in Mvezo in 2007, one of his grandsons, Ndaba Mandela, told me that succeeding generations of South Africans should be inspired chiefly by the story of “a young man who came from nothing.” His grandfather had been “a young boy running around on the farms of Xhosa-land and he made something [of himself] he never imagined!” Ndaba said. What struck him especially powerfully from living with the older man was how easily his grandfather related to the poorest, most uneducated strangers. Humble circumstances inspired radical empathy and humility in Mandela, tugging at his grandfather’s conscience. What was the value of political liberation if it did not also lead to material freedom? “You’re a lawyer. You’re a president,” Ndaba said, placing himself in his grandfather’s shoes. “So what? It’s about how you treat people. Seriously. Are you a good person? Are you healthy? Not just physically—but is your spirit healthy?”
His grandfather, of course, had always emphasized to the next generation in the family, most of them apolitical, that he was a disciplined member of the African National Congress (ANC). This was the message Mandlasizwe and Ndaba, who’d recently been at odds with one another over family matters, including where Mandela would be buried, both echoed at the party’s sendoff of Mandela in a mass rally on Saturday. As his grandfather approached heaven, Ndaba told the crowd, Mandela would “hold his party card close.” South African President Jacob Zuma seized the opening the occasion seemed to provide. “The question is, ‘Can we produce, as an ANC, other Madibas—under other circumstances?’” he asked. “Madiba was produced by the ANC. We need to ponder and say how could we do it today, given conditions today. Because we need more Madibas so our country can prosper.” Here, in effect, Zuma backed himself into a corner, virtually conceding a point being made all around the country after he was thunderously booed at the memorial service in Soweto: that current leaders don’t measure up to the man they would bury the next day. An invocation of Mandela’s example is bound to be the primary theme, for the ANC and opposition alike, during national elections next year.
In media outlets around the world, there has been a parallel and equally frenzied debate underway over the real meaning of Mandela’s life and death. In the United States, there have been complaints on the left and right that Mandela’s image had been sanitized, obscuring his role as a young militant commanding a guerrilla force to forcibly overthrow that extreme and peculiar form of racial segregation known as apartheid. During a commemoration in Chicago on Friday night, Jeremiah Wright, Obama’s former spiritual guide, said that Mandela “had changed” over time, jettisoning the principles of the movement’s Freedom Charter and embracing neoliberal economic policies. He extolled the militancy of Winnie Madikizela-Mandela, Mandela’s former wife, as an admirable example of fidelity to revolutionary principles. “Why aren’t we discussing Mandela’s Politics?” was the poignant question raised by a critic of this week’s media coverage on the website Africa Is A Country [ http://africasacountry.com/why-arent-we-discussing-mandelas-politics/ ].
As South Africa prepared for the first state funeral in the new democracy’s history, my thoughts turned once again to that day six years ago when a transcendent figure of our time spoke publicly about his mortality. I remember how the wind whipped across the rocky bluff right above the spot where he was born, and seemingly propelled him along as he returned to his seat after speaking. The electrical generator trucked into the village over some of the worst roads in the world had shorted out before the ceremony began. The sound system didn’t work, the microphones were dead, and most people present, taking shelter from the weather under two large canvas tents, had not heard his remarks.
When Mandela turned around, leaning in to consult Graca Machel, he had an impish, satisfied grin on his face. He glanced at his grandsons, shirtless and in traditional garb, beaded bands around their heads and at their ankles. He nodded, seeming gleeful, and when his wife got up and took the hand of Tando Mandela, the new nkosi’s wife, pulling her along to join in a dance intended explicitly for men, the old man laughed. He moved his hands and body gently to the singing. Two universes—so often at odds but also embodied in his life story—were briefly joined. For the moment, there was no collision. Later in the day, he would tell his grandsons that he had never felt so happy.
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