Jimmy Carter hired me to entertain at his wife's birthday party in 1973. I was living in Tallulah Falls at the time, struggling to publish my books and scrambling for rent money. A few cities over Carter was throwing a shindig for his wife Rosie. He put out an ad for a man who fit a peanut costume he apparently wore every year to spice up what was otherwise a drab affair dominated by peanut butter concoctions and odes to George Washington Carver, with whom Carter was often confused. I happened to fit the exact height and weight requirements. Met Carter at Manuel's Tavern for an interview. Carter took one look at me and downed his whiskey and hired me on the spot. Rosalyn's gonna lose her mind, he says. Wicked smile spreads across his face. Lose her darn mind, he repeats. On the day of the party I show up early and Carter dresses me himself in the backyard while Rosalyn takes a nap. He gets serious. Now you remembah you gotta sing like a peanut or no pay. How's a peanut sing, I ask If you dont know maybe you're not the man for the job. Maybe I get someone else. Now hold on. I can sing like a peanut if you need me to. I'm just trying to see if YOU know how a peanut sings. Trust but verify. I like your style, Cormac. May I call you Cormac No All right. I waited in the backyard for an hour before the party started. Forty or fifty people packed that swampy yard. All of em dressed like farmers. Carter rang a dinner bell and silenced the crowd. The peanut will now sing, he says. Before a few score Georgians I began to sing the only song I'd ever heard of a peanut singing - Christmas Time is Here. It's from that Peanuts movie from the sixties. The Georgians stared agog. All eyes swivel toward Rosalyn. Rosalyn bursts into applause and runs to hug me and we fall into the pool. Everyone laughs. Carter throws a bottle of whiskey into a campfire. Best job I ever had.