A TIME TO . . .

Ronald Reagan, our country's fortieth president, died this afternoon. I am immensely saddened by this, not because I know so much about him, or because I knew him at all. But he was the first American president that loomed large in my memory. Sure, I have very vague memories of seeing political cartoons in my parents' newspapers depicting Jimmy Carter's broad smiling face in caricature, but Reagan was really the first President I heard or read anything about, at an age where I could formulate coherent thoughts. Reagan was the President that was with me through the Challenger explosion, Chernobyl, the Cold War, glasnost -- all events that only people in my generation can recall with any affinity or a sense of "ahhh, where were you when ..."

The man had an incredible life. Sure, as President, he saw the national deficit triple ... but aside from that major boo-boo, didn't he have a life and career (or careers) that most people would die for? Born in 1911, he was a radio sportscaster, an actor, a state governor, then President of the United States for eight years. He was old, that's for sure, but he was funny and well-liked, and honest, as far as politicans go. He was eloquent, thus dubbed "The Great Communicator," and even a quick reading of the personal letters he wrote to his second wife Nancy are enough to bring the small sting of tears to my eye. He had a gravelly little voice that could go from extremely tender to frighteningly firm. He was loyal to his party and loyal to his country above all things. I'd venture to say that despite all the ways in which I would disagree with him politically, economically, socially, he bent over backwards to render service unto his country and his fellow citizens. It doesn't seem like they make Presidents like Ronald Reagan anymore ...

I'm moved not simply by the singular loss of Reagan. I'm moved by what he stood for, the feeling of "they don't make them like they used to," the thought that I and we don't appreciate people, events, moments as much as we should. I commented to C last night, as we rose for the singing of the national anthem: no matter how down I am about the Iraq war, no matter how much I deride The Shrubbery, no matter how much I wish this country could be better, do better, do more, there is no place I'd rather be, and everytime I hear or sing the anthem, or view our flag up against a sky's horizon, I remember that. Yeah, a tripling of the deficit sucks, but I'd rather be here than anywhere else. Yeah, I hate being hypocritical and sending troops to bring democracy to other nations when we have such a hard time practicing it ourselves, but I'd rather be here than anywhere else. Yeah, I'm embarrassed that some of our bad seeds went to a war zone and started abusing prisoners of war, but I'd rather be here than anywhere else. Yeah, I hate that our history includes segregation, race riots, marginalization of women and internment of citizens, but I'd rather be here than anywhere else.

Only in America can I even hope for an end to racism. Only in America can one even hope to start with nothing and make something grand of him or herself. Only in America can one make a national anthem about a flag and set it to the tune of an old popular drinking song. Only in America can the idea of democracy actually take root, even if it's in little pockets here and there, even if it's really slowly. And of course, only in America can a nobody born in Illinois be a sportscaster, an actor, a governor and the President of his country and leader of the free world.

Rest in peace, Gipper.