Gerald R. Ford

On July 14, We Remember Gerald R. Ford

They say power reveals a man. But sometimes it only confirms what we already knew. That some men show up not because they want to, but because the room is empty and someone must.

Gerald R. Ford was born in 1913. An Eagle Scout. A lineman with mud on his jersey and law school in his future. A naval officer during the war, steady in storms. Twenty-five years in Congress, where he was respected but rarely celebrated.

And then came the fracture.

Watergate broke more than a presidency. It cracked the trust people had in institutions, in offices, in each other. Ford didn’t campaign to fix it. He was chosen. He walked in quietly, without slogans, without a win at his back. And still, he carried it.

He pardoned Nixon. People hated him for it. They called it weakness, called it betrayal. But it stopped the bleeding. That was the point.

He faced two gun barrels and didn’t flinch. He calmed the office he inherited. He did the work.

To mark his birthday, try this poem—not to decorate the man, but to trace the arc of a life lived with discipline, duty, and a certain Midwestern stillness.

Because not all heroes announce themselves. Some just keep the ship from sinking.

Gerald R. Ford

Grand Rapids gave him roots and rain,

Eagle Scout forged in Midwestern plain.

Running back dreams on a gridiron field,

A Yale man shaped where ideas yield.

Law in his pocket, duty in hand,

During the war, he took a stand.

Representative with a measured voice,

Unshaken by power, grounded in choice.

Drawn to the work, not the praise of a crowd,

On Capitol Hill, he made Michigan proud.

Loyal again, when Nixon reached low,

Peace through a pardon helped steady the flow.

History turned in a single breath—

Ford stood tall in the room left by death.

Over two shots, he would not fall,

Resolve in the face of chaos and call.

Dignity restored, not by words but by will.