By that time, I had known Carter and his wife, Rosalynn, for about five or six years. Long before, when I was growing up and the Carters were in the White House, my parents often expressed their admiration for President Carter and what he stood for.

They had never spoken that way about any political leader — and never did again — so I knew Carter was special from my earliest days.

Mom and dad saw him as a man of peace; a leader who, for the first time, had placed human rights at the centre of U.S. foreign policy. Most importantly to them, the 39th president was a man of great humility, despite the all-important job Americans had elected him to. 

As I got older, and thanks to those discussions between my parents, the Carter Presidency and his journey beyond the White House became a great interest of mine. I read everything I could on the man from Plains and his equally remarkable wife. 

It won’t surprise you that when I became a journalist I tried countless times to secure an interview with the man who by then had become a hero to me. After being turned down repeatedly by his press office, I decided to bypass them and go straight to the source.

It was the early 2000s.

Knowing that he taught Sunday School each week in Plains, and how he would greet each guest for a handshake and a picture afterwards, I soon had a plan. A skeptical friend agreed to accompany me, and we flew to Atlanta and rented a car for the journey to Carter’s hometown.

When my turn came and I stepped forward to meet my hero, I was so excited that I forgot to ask if I could interview him! The next year, however, I returned and finally got my chance.  

Countless other interviews followed as I began travelling to Plains annually and we got to know each other. Each time, we’d have lunch after church at Mom’s Kitchen, then the only restaurant in town. Or, we’d gather the night before with our wives for dinner at a restaurant in nearby Americus.

After my tribute book about the Carters was published, Queen’s University in Kingston asked the president and Mrs. Carter to accept honorary degrees. When they agreed, I called Carter and extended an invitation for them to stay with my wife, Alison, and me, during their visit to town. To our delight, he accepted our invitation.

The big day soon arrived. A motorcade consisting of vehicles from the U.S. Secret Service, joined by our own RCMP, delivered our friends to our door early in the afternoon of November 20, 2012. After our distinguished guests settled in, the four of us regrouped by our fireplace and talked the afternoon away.

It was an incredible honour to have them with us. Here we were with the architect of the Camp David Accords, discussing with him directly the historic peace treaty between Israel and Egypt. I also asked the President about SALT II and the Soviet Union and so much more. With Mrs. Carter in the lead, we also spoke about the reality of mental health challenges that both our families, like millions of others, knew far too well.

What I loved the most was the fact that my tape recorder and reporter’s notebook were nowhere in sight. I wasn’t on the job and could simply talk with the man I admired more than any other.

The next morning, as Alison and I slept on our guest bed, I heard the water running upstairs. It was exactly 5 a.m. Once a farmer, always a farmer, I thought to myself as I got up to turn the coffee machine on.

We then went our separate ways to deliver coffee to our wives. The President soon returned to our main floor, as did I. He went out into our garden and, watching him from the kitchen window, I decided to join him on what was a bright and unseasonably warm fall day.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. President,” I said, “but I would consider it an honour to join you in my garden.”

An hour or so later, after breakfast was done, President and Mrs. Carter performed ceremonial tree plantings in that garden. Those trees remain, with appropriate plaques, growing in our garden to this day.  

The Carters graciously wrote to us about them after returning home. “We hope the trees in your yard will survive and flourish, surrounded by Red Georgia clay,” they said. “They will be a permanent reminder of our lasting friendship.”

Later in the day, after the Carters had received their degrees at an impressive ceremony and attended a university luncheon, a Secret Service agent pulled me aside. He said the Carters were getting ready to depart and would like to see us privately before they left. Alison and I left our seats at the table and waited for them outside.

We chatted for a minute and then President Carter hugged me close. It was my turn to tear up.

At that moment I thought — as I did again today when I learned of his death — how privileged and lucky I am to have called this remarkable man my friend.

Kingston’s Arthur Milnes, an RCGS Fellow, is a former speechwriter to Prime Minister Stephen Harper. He also assisted the Rt. Hon. Brian Mulroney in the preparation of his memoirs. Milnes has edited numerous books on Canadian and American political leaders. His most recent is 98 Reasons to Thank Jimmy Carter, published in 2022.