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TIME: Almanac 1995
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1994-05-26
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<text id=94TT0052>
<title>
Jan. 17, 1994: To Exit Laughing
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1994
Jan. 17, 1994 Genetics:The Future Is Now
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
OBITUARY, Page 29
To Exit Laughing
</hdr>
<body>
<p>More than anyone else, Bill Clinton's mother Virginia Kelley
served as his model of joy amid adversity
</p>
<p>By Margaret Carlson/Washington
</p>
<p> The heart that stopped early last Thursday morning had been
given over many years ago to the fatherless son who is now President
of the U.S. It was his mother's indomitable ways, her ledger
that listed credits and not debits, her capacity for friendship
that exceeded even his own--all this accounted for Bill Clinton's
ability to get up off the mat just as the count was about to
reach 10. He didn't respond like most candidates do when the
campaign hits the ropes. If Gary Hart was a sulker, Paul Tsongas
a whiner, Jerry Brown an out-of-body existentialist, Clinton
was the sunny optimist, emerging on the coldest, darkest days
of New Hampshire to pump hands at a V.F.W. hall as if he were
20 points ahead in the polls. As he accepted the nomination
most of the press had predicted would not be his, he said the
fighting spirit people remarked upon had one source. On the
podium, he turned to Virginia Kelley and said, "Thank you, Mother.
I love you."
</p>
<p> At that moment, Kelley was suffering from breast cancer. A radical
mastectomy in 1990 had slowed the disease, as had chemotherapy
and radiation treatments that had severely thinned the black
mane with the silver streak. But she was a survivor. She had
buried three husbands, one a sweet-talking salesman who died
before her son was born and another with a weakness for bourbon
and beating her up. She was a working mother before it was cool,
leaving her infant with her parents to finish nursing school
in Shreveport, Louisiana, and pulling long hours as a nurse
anesthesiologist at the local hospital when she graduated. All
the while, she acted as if she had no cause to complain and
led a life that would never please the life-style police: she
liked to take a drink, eat red meat, play the horses, stay up
too late and exercise too little. "She wasn't one," says a friend,
"to worry about a high-fiber diet." She preferred to win like
her son but was never discouraged by defeat. Political columnist
Jack Germond, who went along on her last visit to Laurel Race
Course outside Washington, said she lost money that day. "But
she had the same attitude I do. If you can't have a winning
day at the track, the next best thing is a losing day."
</p>
<p> Last Wednesday evening, after a day out lunching with friends
and an evening cheering on the University of Arkansas basketball
team, she turned to her fourth husband Dick Kelley, a retired
food broker. "I have a chill," she said. "I think I'll go to
bed." When he looked in on her a few hours later, he told the
President, she was dead.
</p>
<p> All deaths are shocking to the survivors, even those of the
terminally ill, and the President was stunned by the call, which
came at 2:30 a.m. Washington time. The week before, Clinton
had given a routine hug to his mother on the porch of her modest
lakefront home in Hot Springs, Arkansas, as he headed off to
Hilton Head, South Carolina, and she to Las Vegas for New Year's
weekend. The only sense that Kelley, 70, might be counting her
days came when she appealed to her son to have the whole family
together for Christmas. That included his half-brother Roger,
who was deep in the doghouse for being as yet unmarried to his
five-months-pregnant girlfriend.
</p>
<p> At the President's behest, Harry Thomason, the television producer
and an old Arkansas friend, took Kelley six months ago to a
prestigious bone-marrow transplant clinic at the University
of Colorado, where she could have had surgery. When she found
out the treatment might have extended her life but not necessarily
its quality, she decided against it. She preferred to exit laughing.
Her son's first Christmas in the White House was her last but,
she told a friend, her best. She slept in the Queen's bedroom,
watched a screening of A Perfect World and helped her granddaughter
Chelsea wrap gifts. She brought in the New Year playing the
slot machines at the MGM Grand Hotel in Las Vegas and sitting
transfixed at Barbra Streisand's first concert in 22 years.
Back home, she took care of unfinished business: she went with
Roger to the local jewelry store and bought rings for the wedding
he promised would take place before her second grandchild was
born.
</p>
<p> With the death of the First Lady's father in April and the suicide
of Vincent Foster in July, this is the third loss in a year
for the Clintons. The couple seemed limp with sadness in a rare
public embrace on the South Lawn, as the President boarded Marine
One bound for Little Rock. The funeral on Saturday was private.
Even so, Virginia Kelley's son ordered up the 3,700-seat Hot
Springs Convention Auditorium for the crowd he expected. The
acorn does not fall far from the tree.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>