I may have been too immature to understand the impact of this great man at the time, but hindsight has me feeling very, very lucky.
When Carter conceded his loss to Reagan, I was a college student working as a proofreader in a law firm in Century City (the part of L.A. where Reagan had his offices). I had not yet gone to vote, and now I wouldn't get to! Walking out of the building, I said to a fellow student, a stranger, "Looks like we have a new President!" He replied that he was crossing the street to go see him speak, and would I like to come with him? Well, why the heck not?
We jeans-wearing kids went into the hallway of the hotel, where everyone seemed to be in suits, and headed for the doorway to the grand ballroom. Alas, those going in all seemed to have tickets for the event. My companion quickly folded up two sheets of paper to look like tickets, and put them in his pocket. A quick flash of his pocket and we were in the hall.
Security was different in those days. We both had backpacks full of books, and yet were not checked and did not APPEAR to go through any metal detectors. That even bothered me at the time.
We went and stood right next to the stage, front and center. I believe we were standing there a couple of hours, at least, as the crowd filled. There were a few acts and speeches before the President-elect came on stage. I only remember one female singer crooning "He's leaving... on that midnight train to Georgia..."
The only thing I remember about that speech was the excitement of the crowd, and being stunned that little me was just FEET away from our new President.
My second encounter with President Reagan was a few years later. Serendipitously I was working in the kitchen of the most elegant restaurant in that same hotel (the Century Plaza). The President was in the suite of the new tower section, a suite built for top security for him, and he was going to have lunch in our restaurant with someone.
The dogs came through and the Secret Service stood behind me as I prepared, with scissors and my own bare hands, a salad for my President to eat. I was thrilled, nervous, and as honored as could be. It was a mache salad and I hope he enjoyed it.
Rest in peace, Mr. President. Thank you for our freedom and prosperity, and may we ever guard and extend it in your honor following your great example. Thank you for setting the character bar so high that those who would rather play limbo with it have not managed to tarnish you or us.
Good post.