The other night as I was readying for bed, I happened to catch the second half of a 1990 Larry King interview with Ronald Reagan. As weary as I was, I sat enthralled by the sight of him; still tall in the saddle, bright-eyed and beloved by the TV camera, just as I’d remembered.

After a week of non-stop photo montages, sound-bytes and tributes to the former president, nothing captured his essence quite so perfectly as the non-scripted, brief and easy banter he shared with his interviewer. Coming as it had only days after the gorgeous, heart-wrenching ceremonies on Friday night, I was surprised by the intense feeling of longing it evoked in me.

From the moment his death was announced, the days have been filled with a full array of emotions from people around the world, not least among them a heavy regret that his kind of man might walk the earth no more.

And there were other sensibilities touched off by the passing of the man Jack Kemp described as, “The last lion of the 20th Century.” As I stood at the intersection of 16th Street and Constitution Avenue in our nation’s capital on Wednesday afternoon, there was a mixture of sadness, reverence, love and curiosity in the vast crowd while we waited for the great man’s procession to pass.

People of all ages and colors stood shoulder to shoulder on the steamy sidewalk; a businessman with a TV providing updates, a Latino family with three toddlers, a pair of pierced young lovers and an elderly woman holding a home-made periscope with a yellowed newspaper photo of the Reagans lovingly taped to the front. The silence that accompanied the President’s cortege as it winded by us was the ultimate homage to the Great Communicator.

Baffled as usual by things of this nature, the liberal media sought to explain away the national reaction to his passing. The most oft-repeated phrase was that the many thousands who turned out in DC and California to show their respect were seeking to become “a part of history,” not realizing, of course, that the throngs wished to witness history, as embodied by Ronald Wilson Reagan.

It is precisely the disconnect to our nation’s history -- suborned by the disgrace of our union-strangled public education establishment -- which fed the desire of so many young people to embrace the Reagan legacy. He was a walking chronicle of the last century. How long had he lived? The writer and presidential descendant, Henry Adams, who passed away when little Dutch was seven years old, was born while James Madison still lived.

This connection to our mutual past is something of which Reagan himself often spoke. In his farewell speech to the nation he cautioned, “Younger parents aren't sure that an unambivalent appreciation of America is the right thing to teach modern children…if we forget what we did, we won't know who we are. I'm warning of an eradication of the American memory that could result, ultimately, in an erosion of the American spirit.”

As he so often did in life, Ronald Reagan bestowed a hefty dose of America’s spirit on its people at the occasion of his death. The twin senses of honor and love of country, the notion that the pursuit of public office can be a moral calling, the simple allure of genuine humility and kindness; all of these were bequeathed to us by our 40th president.

Providence and love of God were also central to the week’s observances, as Americans sat transfixed, watching speaker after speaker celebrate the ancient notion that religion played a great part in the founding of our country and that it is still essential to our moral underpinning. Could one listen to the angelic renditions of The Battle Hymn of the Republic and America the Beautiful and not get the message? 

The ceremonies, as so wonderfully planned by the Reagans themselves, suggested not only the pomp and reverence accorded to our land’s highest office, but also the good, clean ethos that Hollywood willingly represented so many years ago, but is now scoffed at as propaganda by most of today’s generation of “movie stars.” The exhibition of style and class exuded by the proceedings was something these pretenders can never hope to equal.

Everything was perfect as the Gipper made his final exit; from the cold, stately marble in DC as befits a head of state, to the glowing, rolling hills so beloved by an adopted son of the West, a thankful nation finally wrapped its arms around Nancy and Ronald Reagan and said goodbye.

Lisa Fabrizio is a freelance columnist from Stamford, Connecticut.

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