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"There was a silence!
Great silence of another order.
I was seven, I knew nothing.
The world occurred."
-- Sylvia Plath, "Little Fugue"
When I was seven years old, my foster father was running for reelection. I didn't really understand what that meant. He'd been ramping up his campaign before my parents died, but it wasn't something that a child would understand.
The First Lady hated me, but would use me as an example of being charitable in an age when such kindnesses weren't always easily shown. I suppose it's not polite of me to say that she hated me. It was more a case of our personalities not really mixing well, and I took advantage of that sometimes. I think a couple of the major issues I caused her were more to get some sort of attention that I was lacking, but couldn't properly ask for at the time.
On the other hand, the President was reluctant to take advantage of the tragedy of my parents' deaths to press his own advantage. He understood the concept behind using it to garner public sympathy, but after basically doing it when he and the First Lady took me in, he knew better than to push it. Too much can turn sour, so he fought his wife and advisors. In hindsight, understanding the political machine as I do now, I think he was probably right, but should have at least attempted to give it a shot. He could have had a second term, but I'm not sure he really wanted that.
So, rather than continue to deal with me during that whole failed reelection and later transition period, they sent me off to Harper Hall, the first of a handful of elite schools to help mold me into a proper young man. It would take several years before I could really understand what they did for me growing up. I feel bad for being such a little shit to the First Lady. She was trying, and I just didn't want another mother. I'm not sure what I wanted back then, but perhaps things would be different if I'd given her a chance.