Not Bad, Mr. President, Not Bad at All

This is FAR later in coming than I had hoped. Life picked me up and started running.

I wanted to share my experience going to see the casket at the Reagan Library. My mom and I left our house at 9:30pm to leave for Moorpark College where everyone was supposed to meet to take a bus to the library. What is normally a 12 minute trip took 1 1/2 hours and we even took the "back way". When we finally were going over the overpass at the college we were able to see the line of cars on the 118 freeway in both directions. There are few things outside the natural world that can inspire awe within me. This was one of those things. As we looked out both east and west, the line of headlights seemed to have no end. My mom remarked that it looked like the final scene in Field of Dreams. It was like that. The line waiting at the college had a similar affect. So many people. We did not arrive at the front until 4:30am and we had even joined up with some friends that were about 1 1/2 hours ahead of us in line. I would sometimes just pause to take in the mass of people that had shown up. Looking at the crowd I began to think about what I had written about glory in life and being remembered. I think that I witnessed such an event as I could not then even concieve of.

We arrived at the library to a different mood than was found in the line. Everyone was much more sobered. At the entrance to the building is a statue of President Reagan in his usual cowboy clothes; a reminder of his life before you enter. The honor guard stood around the casket. There were times that I could not tell they were real men, they stood so still and tall. They were big tall men and they made the scene literally look larger than life. The casket stood in the middle. Immediately as I walked in I was hit by emotions I could not explain. I felt loss, admiration, respect, sorrow, and joy all in one sudden moment as I stepped into the room with the President. Once again, I began to cry but the heavy silence of the room held it back to a tear soaked face. I walked round the casket, watching the flag, looking tearfully to the soldiers with few thoughts in my mind, mostly just nameless emotions. As I passed by the camera man, I thought I heard him also begin to cry. I held my mom's hand. We left the room and smiled.