Among so many things ... his sideways glance, Bic pen clutched close to his chest, eyes darting as if in conspiracy. "Nixon," he whispered to me once as we sat down at a William Allen White Day luncheon. I had begun to ask him something about George W and he interrupted. "Bush makes me long for Nixon."
Later Calder caught up with me, grabbed me by the arm. "I was wrong," he said, again looking around like one of those characters in an old spy movie. "Not Nixon," he said with a dangerous grin. "Harding. Bush makes me long for Harding."
About Calder, things like that are what I will miss terribly. He was a giant. Without him the world is a lesser place.