If you’ve ever wondered what presidents do after they’re done being presidents, I’ve got your answer: They write books.

Former President Jimmy Carter came to Tempe’s Changing Hands Bookstore on Friday to promote his new book, “We Can Have Peace in the Holy Land.” Carter received the Nobel Peace Prize in 2002 and his new book is recognized as a critical look at steps to peace.

However, while the former president pleased the crowd with lofty generalities, I found something more concrete in the people who came to see him.

Undaunted by a river of humanity that weaved its way through the store, out and around the shopping complex, I proceeded straight to the media pit, directly in front of Carter.

The former president smiled warmly, removed his coat with the help of a stoic, ear-pieced security man, and cradled the microphone an aide handed him.

“This book, I think, is very important,” Carter said, his voice carrying only to those foremost in line. “Many people think I’m overly optimistic, but I’m not.”

Carter briefly mentioned the basis of his hope: the unflagging work of negotiators and peace supporters. He mentioned President Barack Obama’s support for negotiations specifically, showing sharp understanding of the audience.

The mention of Obama brought immediate, enthusiastic applause.

In an aside, Carter noted that the first printed copy of his book was presented to Obama, drawing a look-at-the-kitten-esque “aww” from the crowd.

“How can the most powerful men in the world talking about the most entrenched conflict in human history be cute?” I cynically jotted in my notes.

Regardless, Carter’s smile widened as he expressed his firm belief that the Middle East is close to a cease-fire agreement in Gaza.

His short speech ended abruptly, and he turned to confront the colossal book-signing line and a castle of books as tall as one of his aides and just as deep.

As the pomp concluded, I wandered away, distracted by a group of sign-toting protesters. That’s where I met Na’im Robinson and Morris Hania.

Robinson and Hania weren’t traditional protesters; they were more like “(pro)testers.”

“We’re out here to support the book, support Jimmy and support what’s going on,” Robinson said, standing with his banner on McClintock Drive.

The 29-year-old Muslim resident of Gilbert said he came out because he believes real peace in the Middle East can be achieved through democracy and hope.

During his explanation, a nearby man holding another sign turned and said, “Hey, I’m Jewish.”

“See!” Robinson exclaimed, firmly shaking the man’s hand and patting him on the back. “We can come together.”

Clearly, the two men lacked all animosity. They shot warm smiles at each other while, across the globe, others shot missiles.

Robinson then introduced me to Morris Hania, a former Palestinian from Gaza who fled the country as a child. He became an American citizen but said the conflict in the area prevents him from legally return to his homeland.

“We’re here to support human rights,” Hania said. “We oppose the occupation of Palestine and Iraq; war accomplishes nothing.”

Too many history books and studies never address the simple humanity I witnessed — a hopeful wish for a hateful war.

Make peace, not war with Channing at channing.turner@asu.edu.