Remembering the Gipper

Now is not a time for mourning; it's a time for celebration, because Ronald Reagan is with Jesus. My guess he's sitting on a golden throne right now regaling the hosts of heaven with folksy stories about his Hollywood days.

Scattered throughout his audience are people whose lives he touched; folks he helped send to heaven. Guys like the homeless man who froze to death as the Gipper was telling the world that the poor had only themselves to blame.

I'm sure that the thirty-two women who, in May of 1982, were tortured, raped, and then thrown from helicopters by the Honduran Secret Police are sitting at Ronnie's feet as he spins his yarns. Certainly they're grateful that the Gipper's Ambassador, John Negraponte, lied to investigators about his knowledge of the incident, thereby sparing their families the heartache of knowing their wives and daughters were dead.

The grandfatherly Reagan is surely the object of affection for the countless children he helped send to Jesus. There's Qadaffi's daughter who was killed when the Gipper tried to assassinate the Libyan leader with a missile--she certainly recognizes how vital the Gulf of Sidra is to American interests.

And we should not forget the many Mayan children who were killed by the Guatemalan Army as their villages were razed. They probably enjoyed being swung by their ankles--at least until their tiny skulls were crushed on impact with nearby poles. These kids understand it was all part of the "positive improvement" the Administration said was being made by our surrogate army in that Central American nation.

But then again, maybe none of these people are in the same place as Ronnie. He may trading tales with other great Americans like Patrick Edward Connor, James Forsyth and John Chivington, instead.