Remembering

It was Sunday afternoon, June 6. I was just checking to make sure that my St. Louis friends’ computer was connecting properly to their wireless network. So I surfed my Hotmail account.

When I signed out, the MSM splash page featured an article on Reagan’s passing. Thats when and how I found out.

There were 3 things that I thought about on the long drive home, Kelly being one of them, Reagan being the other. I don’t now remember the third.

I never met Ronald Reagan, though I wish I had.

I’ve commented before that “shaking hands with famous people” doesn’t do much for me. Famous people, powerful people. No, what impresses me is ability. There are a lot of powerful people who suck. They do not impress me. However, I am surrounded by many humble people who are very skilled, very powerful in what they do and how they accomplish it. These are people whom I’m proud to call friends, and am glad to shake hands with, or share an embrace.

Reagan was the kind of man whom I would not shake hands with.

Reagan was the kind of man whom I would reach up and embrace, and tell him, “Thank you”.

Reagan did know how to laugh at himself, which is good, because I often laughed with him. My favorite gaff was during a 4th of July celebration on Ellis Island. Reagan stepped up to the microphone, and he waved to the crowd and was friendly during the applause. After it died down, he pulled a piece of notebook paper from inside his lapel, and began unfolding it.

There was an awkward moment for those gathered as the only sound was the delicate krinkles of the paper through his microphone while everyone waited. Then, he bumped the microphone with his hand, sending a booming THUD into the silence. He quickly and simply followed that up with, “Oops.”

I rolled in laughter for minutes after his speech was over.

Reagan was the kind of president who sometimes wrote his own speeches on notebook paper and folded them up inside his jacket like I did at school. He created awkward moments and accepted them, like I still often do. And he was not afraid to say Oops when he goofed, even if it was to a crowd of 4,000, or over nationwide TV.

This is one reason why I admired him as a man. His character.

My niece graduated from college this year. For her, the term “nuclear war” carries what I feel is the appropriate definition. It is an important threat used as the line of last defense in a desperate situation. Something so important, so desperate, and so last, that there’s no reason to ever consider it.

She does not have the subtle scars of a generation of which I am a part, who grew up with “brinkmanship” on a global level.

From the 4th grade until and after college, I grew up living less than a mile from a primary strategic military installation. I would lay awake at night and consider the approaching storm, never knowing if the subtle flash on my ceiling was lightening, the strobe from the runway markers, or the start of an all-consuming flash. I would listen in fear to every roar — was it thunder, a tornado, the exhaust of huge jet engines on EWO thrust, or the leading edge of a destructive wave that would bring the wall down behind me after the glass popped from my windows.

EVERY rumble.

EVERY flash of light.

I still have the learned skill, of situational awareness while sleeping. Bright flashes still wake me at night.

But I no longer sleep in fear. Not in fear of mutually assured destruction. Because my President in the 1980’s had the courage to stand up, not for national policy, but for me. For millions of citizens each one, on both sides of a map, who tired of guarding against the coming night. He called a bully what it was, called a dumb idea what it was, and set in motion something we all dreamed about.

Peace.

Thats one reason why I admired him as President.

I’ve read other diarists comments on the national holiday. They are critical of government workers receiving a bonus holiday, or worse, of getting overtime for having to work. And generally, I’d agree with those comments. But not for this man. This man will continue to be remembered with a rosy cast that is not from a lens, but which is a part of the page of history, remembered long after Clinton’s scandals or even Iraq.

Reagan is the likes of Lincoln: a humble person who came to power because he chose to do what he could, what was right. A person of character and integrity who made mistakes, but he never chose to do wrong. And we as a nation would do a great disservice if we did NOT take a day of rememberance, no matter the cost.

Although his mind has not been much with us for the last 10 years, his soul, his body, his spirit has remained a flicker, a reminder, of something brigher, the flame of his earlier days. I grieve his passing, and discover that with the dousing of his wick, the corners and dark places of this world have become just a little darker.