My husband and I put off picking out a name for our firstborn the greater part of nine months. It wasn’t that we didn’t care. We just realized early on that naming your child isn’t like naming the family pet. Fido down the street doesn’t mind if you call your pooch “Fluffy.” Give your kid a questionable name, and the neighbor kids can be downright cruel.
It wasn’t until the little guy arrived that we settled on a name: Reagan.
The name parents choose to give their son or daughter always invites commentary, and our experience was no different. Our son’s name elicited its fair share of “that’s unique” and “oh, how cute.” A few brave souls dared ask if we named him after the late president, a question I was more than happy to entertain.
See, there’s a reason we didn’t name him Carter or Clinton.
I was 5 when the space shuttle Challenger went down. I was too young to understand the political implications of such a disaster, but I understood this much: The men and women who boarded that space shuttle were special. And when I watched it fall to pieces in the middle of my living room, my heart broke for those mommies and daddies and the children they left behind.
Tied to my memory of what befell those seven astronauts is President Ronald Reagan’s response. The president was supposed to deliver his State of the Union address that evening. He didn’t. Reagan understood it was a time for mourning and remembering, not for boasting of his administration’s grand plans and accomplishments.
That night, rather than balking and drawing rank in the face of such a disaster, the president renewed America’s commitment to space exploration. And then he spoke to me. Or at least it seemed his next words were just for me. Reagan took a moment to reassure the nation’s schoolchildren. Tragedies like the Challenger explosion, he explained, are “all part of the process of exploration and discovery.
“The future doesn’t belong to the fainthearted. It belongs to the brave.”
Say what you will about Reagan — during this election season, every pundit and politician seems to be taking his or her turn — the man was fearless.
June 5 marked the fourth anniversary of the Gipper’s death. I was blessed to grow up in the shadow of his presidency. I wonder if a man of his caliber will rise to the occasion during my son’s lifetime.
My son was given his name because I hope he, too, will not back down in the face of adversity. That he would exemplify the strength and courage of Reagan and, while he may not take on Kremlins and Cold Wars, that he would acknowledge the evil in this world and fight for what is good.
In that same speech, Reagan remarked that the Challenger Seven honored their country by the manner in which they lived their lives.
I pray the same can be said of Reagan.
ght we would wrap up the official last week of summer by taking Reagan out on the water one last time ... before cooler fall temperatures set in. Chilly Labo
r Day weekend weather beat us to the punch, so we settled for a bike ride. Reagan loves riding in his Chariot, so he didn't mind the change of plans, as evidenced by that big grin.
Reagan went out on the boat for the first time last weekend. He wasn't quite ready for wakeboarding, but he sure dressed the part.
Tracy, Reagan and I flew to Phoenix last week. I had an appointment at the Mayo clinic in Scottsdale. It was time to see a specialist for my dystonia.
My friend Jessie and her son Griffin paid us a visit this week. Jessie and I met in Steamboat Springs, Colo., in 2001. I had just finished college, taken a job at the local paper and was determined to make my mark in newspapers. We were six months apart, but our goals, interests and personality couldn't have been further apart. I thought she was a jock; she thought I acted older than I was. But somehow we became the best of friends.
