I have not, nor would I ever, desire to be a broadcast journalist or television anchor, repeating the same thing over and over . . . and over again.
By the time this column appears, the news and hypotheticals and finger pointing by the mainstream media as well as the mainstream political parties concerning the attempted assassination of Donald Trump will have worn extremely thin. I shall refrain from exacerbating it.
My elementary school was having a book sale circa 1969, much like the book sale our local community school will have each year. I remember being nervous about asking my mother for the money to make a purchase.
Three dollars and seventy-five cents was a lot for a nine-year-old in those days to request and the thought of being denied the necessary funds troubled me greatly. The ever-soeasy sales pitch of “I want to read a book” had not yet dawned on me. Eventually I found the courage and to my delight, walked away with a nice five dollar bill.
The subject of the book was about the life and times of Abraham Lincoln, beginning at birth and finishing with his interment at the Oak Ridge Cemetery in Springfield, IL. It was not a large book, printed in paperback, and was written for the mind and reading level of a third grader. The stories came to life and I was captivated, rereading it from front to back several times. I would beg the adults around me to ask a question about Abe, I was that confident in my material.
At some point in time during one of my dialogues, I was asked if I was aware of the strange coincidences with the presidencies and deaths of Lincoln and John F. Kennedy, almost seven years prior. That single question was the first time in memory I willingly and enthusiastically asked permission to ride my bike to the public library. I would encourage anyone who enjoys a unique perspective of history without a conspiracy theory slant to research it.
When Ronald Reagan defeated Jimmy Carter by a landslide in 1980, I held no grudge or animosity. It was an election of the people and the majority wins; relatively cut and dry. Reagan had flair and delivered his remarks with a style that for me inspired self-assuredness. The message of the communications was unimportant back then; 20-year-old males are visual creatures and substance matters very little.
The assassination attempt on President Reagan outside the Hilton Hotel in Washington, D.C., on March 30, 1981, was disconcerting. I can only imagine some kind of internal psychological remnant of the chaos during the 1960’s and the losses of JFK, Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy.
Pecking out a “Get Well” letter to Reagan on my Smith-Corona typewriter, I wanted to convey my personal sentiments. He seemed like a pretty cool character and deserved a few kind words.
After a month or so, I received a very nice Thank You note and a signed photograph from Reagan arriving on White House stationary. I’m sure it was an auto signature or something his secretary did, but it is still a piece of his legacy I am proud to own.
I have already written to Trump once during his first term as President; sort of a “Give ‘em Hell” kind of thing and don’t think I’ll write another – he knows how I feel. And like Reagan, he also replied with a Thank You note and auto signature photograph – it too is in my collection.
In a few months we’ll be going to the polls. Who will occupy the Oval Office? I think I know, but all bets are off in this crazy upside down world we’re living in.
Whoever ends up calling the plays, they should go back to the original game plan. The yard markers have become so blurred and the goal line keeps moving farther away.
If they really want a victory, stop giving up the ball and go to the big guy they’ve had sitting on the bench for too long. His name is God.
