Disclaimers: The West Wing and all the familiar faces belong to the creative genius of Aaron Sorkin and to his gifted team of producers and writers. I've borrowed them for my own amusement and that of others just for fun and because these characters have gotten under my skin and there is currently no medication approved to treat Chronic West Wing Syndrome.
This is the fourth in the Roses series, which includes Afterglow and The Leash, as well.
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From the personal, unpublished journal of Josiah E. Bartlet, President of the United States:
Thursday, February 14, 2002 – 10:08 p.m. – Washington, D.C.
Valentine's Day is my favorite day of the year. As an economist, I know that the activity surrounding the purchase of flowers and candy in the two weeks preceding the day provides 40% of the annual gross for the floral industry and between 15 and 25% of the annual gross for the candy industry – more for the high-end chocolatiers, of course. Mother's Day and Christmas account for much of the rest. More importantly, as a husband and a father of female children, I love Valentine's Day because of the traditions I have built with the women in my life.
My daughters each received a dozen white roses from me on Valentine's Day. I like to think that they realize the symbol of purity inherent in the color of the flowers; Abbey tells me that I am an idealist. A sweet one, to be sure, but an idealist nonetheless. Each year, my daughters call me from wherever they happen to be to thank me, and then they indulge me in one other tradition despite the fact that this particular custom causes tears – theirs. For each of my daughters on their very first Valentine's Day, I wrote a story, which I have read to each one individually on each Valentine's Day since. Zoe was in town today, so I got to see the tears in her eyes, while the teary voices of her sisters had to suffice for my other daughters as they cried over the phone. I love my daughters very, very much.
I love my wife even more – in part because she is the mother of my children but mostly because she is the most magnificent woman in the world. And this year, for the first time since I became governor of New Hampshire so many years ago, I actually got to order her roses for myself. Each year, it's one red rose for each year we've been married, one white rose for each daughter, and 2 dozen pink roses just because we both really like pink roses. It was a total of nearly 5 dozen this year.
Truth be told, I had to order the roses myself – Mrs. Landingham had done it for many years with pleasure and great joy. As yet, however, I don't have a permanent secretary who can even come close to filling the void… I just didn't feel it appropriate to pass along such an intimate task to someone who isn't family in the peculiarly heartwarming way this staff has become family to one another in the best sense of the word. So I called the approved florist and arranged for the delivery very early in the morning so that I would be the one who signed for them, as well.
Thus it is that I – alone, of all people except Donna and, one has to hope by now, the sender himself – am party to the secret identity of The Rose King.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I, Josiah E. Bartlet, President of the United States of America, know that my Deputy White House Chief of Staff, Joshua Lyman, sent his executive assistant, Donnatella Moss, 3 dozen of the most beautiful red roses I have ever seen. I am also fully aware of the scandal that could erupt from this turn of events. Sometimes I hate the fact that these people serve at the pleasure of the President, because it makes me the bad guy when I have to make those scandals go away.
However…
Donna makes Josh happy. Deliriously happy, and only a man who is totally ignorant of human behavior could miss it. Most of the time, Josh makes Donna happy. You might not realize it from the surface behavior in recent weeks, of course, but it's true. I do notice these things, busy though I am – and something tells me that the roses are going to bring back the magic between Mr. Lyman and Ms. Moss.
Which leads me in a roundabout way to the reason that I had to order and sign for my Valentine's Day roses this year: I don't have an Executive Assistant yet.
Hmmm…