Expressions of Love

July 26, 2004

Ronald Reagan once said, “Politics is supposed to be the second oldest profession. I have come to realize that it bears a very close resemblance to the first.” (Just for the record, FARMING is the oldest profession. God told Adam to “till the ground”. What were you thinking the oldest profession was? Ahaaa…I thought so! Now is that any way to talk about your great…great grandmother, Eve? I don’t know how such rumors get started.)

Michael Reagan, the “lucky, chosen child” of our late President, told a moving story that merits repeating. As an adult, Michael had never heard his famous Dad say, “I love you.” He never doubted his father’s love; because, his father always showed Michael love. But, still, he wanted to hear his Dad say it. While praying about the matter, it dawned upon Michael: he had never actually said, “I love you, Dad,” either! Sure, Michael showed his father love, but the words were never exchanged by either father or son. (It’s a man thing.)

After the President retired, Michael mustered the nerve to tell his father, “I love you, Dad!” In 1991, Ronald Reagan came to San Diego where Michael had a talk radio show, and visited his son in the studio. During a commercial break, Michael threw his arms around his father and blurted out those magical words. “Dad was stunned, and looked for the Secret Service for help!” But Mr. Reagan composed himself, and managed to say in that classic Reagan voice, “W-e-l-l…I love you, too, son.” The ice was broken, and after that, the two of them never met or departed without a hug, and expressions of love.

When President Reagan’s Alzheimer’s disease progressed, and he could no longer speak, each time Michael entered his father’s bedroom, the former President would open his arms, waiting expectantly for his hug. Near the end, after visiting his ailing father, Michael was about to leave his parent’s home. Michael’s wife, Colleen, said, “I think you forgot something,” and pointed behind him. There stood his father, who had followed Michael from his bedroom in his pajamas, with arms wide open, waiting for his “good bye hug” and “I love you, Dad”.

Michael Reagan said, “It is not good enough to show people we love them, we need to tell them, and give them a hug.” I could not agree more. I never regret telling my father, “I love you, Pop,” nor am I ashamed I hugged and kissed his brow many times in his declining years. My only regret is I didn’t do it more, and earlier, before his blindness, so he could both see and hear my expressions of love.

REFLECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON DC
My short trip to Washington DC was wonderful. It was heady stuff meeting with Congressmen, having dinner with the President (and 6,999 of his closest friends, while being the only registered Libertarian in the room). It was a humbling experience taking the whirlwind tour of the Nation’s Capital. I saw everything, even for just a second’s glimpse, from the White House to the Supreme Court, and the Lincoln-Washington-Jefferson Memorials. Ford’s Theater, The National Cathedral, The Smithsonian, and New York Avenue Presbyterian Church where President Lincoln worshipped and Dr. Peter Marshall (one of my heroes, and fellow alumnus of Columbia Theological Seminary) served as pastor during World War II. The list goes on. (The only thing I did not see was the Pentagon.)

You are going to doubt this, but it’s true. The tour guide said at one point, “And now, we are passing Capital Hill, known as Old Jenkins Hill before the nation’s capital building was built on it.” (I already knew that, thanks to Paul Harvey’s “The Rest of the Story”.) And, yes, those were my Jenkins ancestors, who had the vision to see what was coming, sold the hill, and quickly headed out of there for Mississippi while they still could do so. (See how easy it is to be cynical!)

One more Ronald Reagan story: The former President and Michael Deaver were walking down the street during one of his early campaigns. A passerby stopped them and said, “I know you. You’re that movie actor running for office. RAY MILLAND!” The man stuck out a pencil and piece of paper and asked for an autograph. Mr. Reagan politely obliged, and signed the paper, “Ray Milland”. Mr. Deaver asked Mr. Reagan, “Why didn’t you correct him?” Ronald Reagan laughed, and said, “It’s OK, I know who I am.”

Heady stuff, for sure, but my real friends bring me back town to terra firma. “Why you?” they ask. There is nothing like the blunt honesty of real friends to shrink your “big head”. Dinner with the President, rubbing elbows with the Speaker of the House, visiting Old Jenkins Hill, that’s all heady stuff. But I know who the real heroes are. I don’t think Mr. President would argue. They are guys like my brother in law, SSgt Kimo Shearin, 82nd Airborne Division, US Army, combat veteran: Iraq and Afghanistan. It’s nice to be invited to the President’s dinner; but it’s even better to have your granddaughter fall asleep on your shoulder. I know who I am. A very common man: one who has enjoyed much more of this wonderful world and life than he deserves; a sinner saved the by grace of my Lord, Jesus Christ, the child of both a loving earthly and Heavenly Father.

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