Beyond the Gates—Thank you, President Biden.

The White House—an extraordinary place of history, pressure, and fleeting moments—carries a magic only those inside can truly understand. The steady beep of a badge on the keypad, the crisp scent of briefing paper fresh from the print shop, and the distinct hum of Marine One fuel the rhythm of our days. It’s a symphony of sounds: the sirens of the Vice President's motorcade, the low hum of the Navy Mess line, the laughter of colleagues in West Wing hallways, and the sudden gravitas of the “Voice of God” announcing the President of the United States.

Amid the rhythm, the Secret Service became part of the backdrop—discreet, ever-present protectors moving silently through the halls, their radios crackling with coded updates. Their presence was a quiet reminder of the stakes behind every moment. And then there was the constant juggle of two phones, one buzzing with urgent messages about schedules and policies, the other ringing with personal life calling to remind us of the world beyond the gates.

Beyond the gates, people pause, unaware of the treasures within: the patter of children on the South Lawn, the snap of instruments tuned by The President’s Own Marine Band, or the Executive Residence and WHCA staff scurrying around to prepare for the next event. The silent strength of Marines standing at attention mirrors the weight of the place, while a friendly nod from the ROTUS in the lobby offers unexpected warmth amidst grandeur.

The President’s words, “not a joke, no hyperbole,” echo in our memories, as do the Oval Office’s midnight lights—a silent testament to decisions that shape the world. Outside, the fountain’s hum blends with school groups’ chatter, grounding us in the reasons for our being here.

The White House has its own fragrances and textures: sharpies scrawling across briefing books, pool tiles, and schedules; the West Wing burger’s unmistakable aroma; fresh flowers arriving in the lobby; and cookies waiting in the outer Oval. The sights are vivid too: flags waving above the Executive Residence, the stunning art collection or latest jumbos, Easter bunnies, Halloween candy baskets, and the irresistible pull of the Navy Mess Gift Shop.

Moments are etched in our souls: the AF1 “Welcome Aboard” card, signs taped on advance trips marking precision and coordination, music from the Marine Band at holiday parties, and fireworks on the South Lawn each Fourth of July. Snow brought stillness to the grounds, while Kennedy Center Honors celebrated legacy in the Presidential Box. Bowling pins toppled for staff and families, their laughter filling the lanes.

At President Carter’s funeral, the flag at half-staff reminded us of the sacred weight of this place. History moved quickly: a Supreme Court Justice announced, 50 bills signed in a single day, and Adam Schultz’s camera capturing every frame—millions of them.

There were Thursday morning lines for the coveted presidential candy, the opening bars of Hail to the Chief, and quiet moments of reflection in the snow. It all began with a PPO interview—a journey I didn’t think would last more than a day, let alone years.

We threaded the needle with Annie at the dry cleaners and savored the unmistakable smell of Ike’s food being rung up by Ms. Missy. Laughter spilled from Jeff’s office during staff parties, and cheers rang out during celebrations. The move shop unloaded chairs before yet another event, embodying the constant motion of this place.

In Room 1, camaraderie flourished as we tackled challenges together. In WHIT, patience and humor met the occasional tech glitch. We honored these spaces but never took ourselves too seriously, always remembering the role mattered most.

Every moment—a note in the symphony of memories—was fleeting yet profound. For those who follow, we pass on the traditions, camaraderie, and pride. We leave with gratitude for the laughter and the privilege of being part of something bigger.

One day, we’ll look in from the outside, remembering what it felt like to be part of the heart of history. The soul of America.

We were blessed to be here, and these memories—no hyperbole—will stay with us, always.

Thank you, President Biden.