Ronald Reagan is dead.
He died today.
To me, he was the last leader of the
Free World. Sure,
Bush was president when the
wall fell, but he was just tending the shop for the
Gipper.
Ronny Raygun. The
Cowboy. America's greatest
gambit, all wrapped up in one smiling
icon. Ronald Reagan, never the leader of
my country, has become my
mental personalization of the 1980s. All the
garish,
neon,
coke-snorting
die tomorrow greed and
excess and
pizzazz. Over it all the
Old Man watched, like a
Sheriff in one of those old black and white westerns. A smiling face with his hand on the
trigger.
I grew up in the 80s. We had
13 channels on our TV. 8 came from
America. The cartoons started at 6:30 in the morning on a
Saturday, and ran till
noon. I sat in my
pyjamas and let the
Technicolor spray my face once a week for all 8 years of Reagan's
Presidency. Really, it all came together for me while I sat there.
It's Us versus Them. Just like the cartoons.
It used to be that if something happened behind the
Iron Curtain, it could be weeks before you heard about it.
Skeletor would have killed for that kind of
secrecy. The
Hammer and Sickle wouldn't have looked out of place on the side of a
Cobra HISS. Icon of evil for the self same
Empire. The
Communists have the power to you kill a thousand times over at any time. Nobody ever told us outright, but children can figure these things out. I read the
encyclopaedias in the
library at my
elementary school. The volume for the letter
I had a
full colour panel, in the last third of the book, that I memorized.
Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles.
The
American missiles had
mythic names like
superheroes.
Atlas,
Titan,
Minuteman,
Peacekeeper! They stuck their chests out to
deflect bullets and saved babies falling from windows. What stuck in my head was that they were usually
smaller on the page,
white and silver, and decked out in
red, white and blue USAF symbols. Like the
good guys, streamlined and dynamic! Opposite these stood the
Enemy.
CCCP and the
RED STAR on huge towers of menacing steel. The space age American missiles came to sharp points, while the huge USSR killers rolled to
dull smooth tops, like alien technology. They were even painted a
swamp green color, like a moldy monster. They stood taller than the American
ICBMs and dripped with
Slavic gall. The SS names hissed at you. They wanted to draw those deadly circles on the map, checking cities off their lists. Bigger, uglier, and
so many more of them. The Free World should have died.
Then, just like the cartoons, the
cowboy rode into town. He tipped his hat at the
ladies and kissed the
babies and promised to run the
bandits out of town. And you knew he would shoot you if he had to, but he wouldn't like it. But he wouldn't
miss. It sounds so
ridiculous now, and in a way, it was then too.
The Cold War reads like amateur
fiction when you actually
write it down. In a hundred years, editors will push the
history books across their desks in
disgust, dismissing it as utter
sci-fi nonsense. But living there, it was very
real. I had the nightmares all kids had, of the world dying in a rolling wash of
nuclear flame. We watched the skies in the school yard for the con trails of the
Soviet bombers headed for America. I could hear the
air raid sirens at the
Pine Tree Line ICBM
radar base on the edge of town, where young men
drilled for the
end of the world. I still listen for it at
night sometimes.
When the actor became a
statesman, we turned over the reigns of not only the
United States, but of the whole world.
The Free World. The cries of
American imperialism make me smile sometimes when I hear it on the lips of young
protestors. They don't remember when we all followed America like
reluctant soldiers. We may not have liked it, but...
It's Us versus Them. Just like the cartoons.
Ronald Reagan wasn't the only one of his breed.
Iron Maggie stood at America's side, watching the front line.
François Mitterrand brandished the stalwart French nuclear sword at the hated
Germans. All around the world, the characters of the
G.I. Joe stereotype soldiers filed in. To stand against the faceless
Commies and their godless jackbooted
Red Army. The
choral hymns of the
Red Army Choir make my
hair stand on end to this day. Ronny led the charge, a flesh and blood
Optimus Prime. When he made a speech, all 8 American channels carried it. I stood in my
pyjamas and turned the
dial, and Ronny grinned back at me every time.
I always thought of him as looking like what
Superman would look like when he got
old. The
spit curl, the wrinkled grandfatherly
blue eyes that could stare lasers, the wide sweeping gestures and
relaxed smile. He was an
old man, but he never looked it. As a child, I never questioned if it was
real or not. It was as real as anything else on the TV. When the
Challenger blew up, and Reagan made his speech, I felt like he was speaking about his own
kids. "
Slipped the surly bonds of earth to touch the face of God." He wasn't crying
crocodile tears. We were all Ronnie’s Kids, even if we didn't want him as a
Daddy.
For the Greater Good.
It's Us versus Them. Just like the cartoons.
A loving hand on "
The Button". A
nuclear brinksman who told us that
ketchup is a vegetable, didn't duck when he was
shot and didn't remember
Iran or
Sandinistas or
voodoo economics. Ronald Reagan had flaws, like any man, and
dying doesn't erase them.
But I'm going to
miss him. Cause
we won, just like the cartoons.