You Never Forget Your First summary

The story starts not in 1732, the year George Washington was born on the banks of the Potomac in Virginia, but 11 years later, in 1743 when his father Augustine died. His father’s death was a blow to the young family and a crucial catalyst for George’s boundless ambition.

Augustine expected George’s mother to remarry, so he left her very little in his will. But Mary Washington didn’t remarry. Instead, she sold off most of their farm to make ends meet and prayed the weather would allow her to grow enough surplus crops to sell. Small-scale farmers like her were disadvantaged by the British monopoly on trade. 

Washington knew he wasn’t going to reach his financial or social goals as an officer in His Majesty’s army. He was going to have to marry rich – facial scarring be damned. 

It helped that in 1758 he had been inducted into Virginia’s House of Burgesses, the colonial legislative body. His fancy plantation friends had lobbied on his behalf, which in those days meant plying voters with beer and spirits before they cast their ballots. 

As the big hero of the Revolutionary War, you’d expect Washington to have been extraordinarily successful as a general. But he actually lost more battles than any victorious general in modern history. 

He had swagger, though. The Patriots were up against serious odds. The British arrived in 1776 off the coast of New York with 32,000 troops on 400 ships – the largest invading force they had ever mustered. The Patriots had 19,000 ragtag troops with no naval support. 

After the war, Washington was overwhelmingly popular: everywhere he went, huge crowds would cheer and toast him. Ladies laid flowers under the feet of his horse. Congress waived postage on letters to him, and he was inundated with fan mail, tributes, and gifts. 

The Founding Fathers were watching closely – if not jealously, then at least with some anxiety. Why would someone so popular willingly give up power? It had never been done before. They suspected him of maneuvering to become a Caesar-like figure, an emperor-general. Even King George of England couldn’t believe that Washington would cede power so readily, saying “if Washington does that, he will be the greatest man in the world.”

George Washington’s first presidential inauguration, even by our modern standards, was nothing to sneeze at. For one thing, his shoes were pretty fancy: they had silver buckles and large diamonds and were worn over knee-high stockings of white silk. Five hundred soldiers escorted him through massive crowds to the ceremony. The festivities culminated with pyrotechnics that painted the new president’s face in the night sky. 

But no one thought Washington looked particularly happy to be there. Attention always made him feel uncomfortable. It’s also possible, though, that he foresaw the difficulties he would face in the coming years.

In his final retirement, Washington was a man of routine. He ate the same breakfast every morning. It was a type of corncake known as a hoecake, swimming in butter and honey, and washed down with three cups of tea. After breakfast, he took his horse for a long ride to inspect his estate. 

Washington worried about his legacy. When members of his cabinet published tell-all accounts of their time working for him, including attacks on his personal character, he annotated his copies with catty remarks in the margins.