here’s nothing
like a New Year
to reboot your
life. Social media is full of lists of supplements, mindfulness practices, capsule wardrobes, skincare regimens, and more if you’re in search of ideas. This year, I found myself unexpectedly inspired by the life of the late President Jimmy Carter.
Carter is the first president I remember, though technically,
he was the third during my lifetime. I remember seeing
caricatures of his toothy smile in Mad magazine and hearing about his brother Billy and their family’s peanut farm. In the fall of 1980, I rushed home after school to watch the election results while my mother shook her head sadly as Reagan’s Republican party won.
My understanding of the politics of the 1980s is embarrassingly limited, so when President Carter passed away this winter at the age of 100, I was humbled to learn of all he achieved in his life away from the Oval Office.
During and immediately following his presidency, Carter was often cast as a "wimp" in the media—a narrative that stuck. Late-night comedians turned him into a punchline,
ridiculing his toothy grin, his sweater-clad fireside chats,
and his seemingly modest persona. In an era obsessed with strength and dominance, Carter’s quiet, thoughtful leadership was seen by some as weakness.
But hindsight has a way of peeling back layers of caricature to reveal something deeper. Carter was a man of great Christian faith, and he told a story about how his faith was tested after he lost an early gubernatorial race to segregationist Lester Maddox in 1966. He gained political insights, doubled down, and won office in 1970.
As President, he led the nation through economic stagflation and a gas crisis. Most notably, the Iran Hostage Crisis dominated his last year in office and contributed to his
loss in 1980.
After he left the White House in defeat, Carter returned home to Plains, Georgia, where he found his beloved family business in debt and his confidence low. He started over with his wife, Rosalynn, by his side.
It would have been easy for Carter to retreat from the public eye, nursing the wounds of political and personal failure. Instead, he leaned into a different legacy—one marked not by power but by service.
T