The day America died. I was out distributing flyers when I came around the front of one fine-looking lake property. It was a sunny, summer day in 2004. The first thing that caught my eye in the manicured front yard was the flagpole, on which Old Glory was waving at half-mast. A chill brushed across me, and a sense of foreboding. Did I really want to know what this was all about? About an hour later I rolled in to a nearby convenience store. The headline hit me full-blast across the temples as I walked through the twin sliding doors. The Old Man had checked out. Ronald Reagan was my President. Every one before him and since has been a freaking wanna-be; a figurehead someone stuffed in there as a conduit for their lobbies, "rights"-causes and "gimmee"-groups. Ronald Reagan was there for America. It was his passion long before he joined the GOP or the Democrats, and he never let go of it. Perfect? Far from it, but the last and best of a generation with a vision that we should strive to leave the country better than we found it, according to its foundational principles, and a view toward freeing future generations, not saddling them with the bill for our excess. Reagan's motto, and his now obfuscated and obliterated legacy, could be briefly summed up as Non sed sibe sed patriae: Not for myself, but for my nation. Gazing out over the uncharted waters our "ship of state" is sailing today, it's hard to see through the hazy fog of propaganda foreign interests are giving off to disguise their machinations and manipulation. His notion is all but extinct now. I remember a time of clarity. There was a brief moment in the history of my nation when we had a sense of ourselves and our purpose. When individual liberty was in vogue. When we largely minded our own business instead of everyone elses, and business was good. Let the memory live again!