Deep Inside

Marred surface, something sweet and childlikehidden inside... Sounds like a lot of people we know, don't you think?

I saw a desk recently that held a special secret. It was a huge walnut desk in the Old Executive Office Building in Washington, D.C., the building where Vice President Gore has most of his offices. Long ago, I was told, the desk was used by a succession of American presidents, but then--when it became sufficiently scratched--it got passed along to vice presidents.

The desk did look a bit dilapidated. It was heavily lacquered and surrounded by priceless knickknacks in a ballroom-size office the vice president uses for entertaining. But neither the shine nor the surroundings could hide the hundreds of small dents and scratches that marred every surface of this historic desk. Did presidents kick and stab it whenever they lost a vote or a war?

But there was more to this desk than a marred surface. It held a secret hidden inside--a peculiar, somewhat charming secret. In the main drawer--the one right in front of you when you sit down, the wide flat drawer where you keep pens and pencils and dozens of sheets of paper you never look at--were the signatures of all of the officials who had ever sat at that desk: Harry Truman, Hubert Humphrey, Richard Nixon and the rest. All but one of the signatures were written in ink; "Dan Quayle" was carved into the wood with a penknife, as if he were in junior high.

Marred surface, something special and sweet and childlike hidden inside... Sounds like a lot of people we know, don't you think? Our spouses, boyfriends and girlfriends, perhaps? How about our teachers and bosses, and maybe our parents? How about ourselves?

As we accumulate more scratches and dents over the years, it becomes harder for many of us to express simple, loving thoughts--to say "I love you" to a spouse or "I'm proud of you" to a child or "Great job" to an employee--even though these thoughts may be foremost in our minds. Silent and evasive, we feel safe. No one likes to feel vulnerable, after all.

When, lately, I've caught myself holding back, I've thought about that special desk. With its drawer closed, the desk is truly grand and imposing, scratches and all. But when the drawer is open, and those boyish scribbles are exposed, we see the desk as the treasure it truly is.

Robert Epstein is editor-in-chief of PSYCHOLOGY TODAY and University Research Professor at United States International University in San Diego. He hosts the magazine nationally syndicated radio program and is the founder and director emeritus of the Cambridge Center for Behavioral Studies in Massachusetts. He earned his Ph.D. in psychology at Harvard University in 1981.

Tags: harry truman, pencils, pens, scratches, stab, vice president gore

Current Issue

Everyday Creativity

How to start living creatively and reap the benefits.

Find a Therapist

Search our customized Directory for a licensed professional near you.