78-02-B3
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Looking Out a Window[edit]
Transcript[edit]I'm afraid you are in for a little bit of philosophizing if you don't mind. Some of these broadcasts I must draft while I'm out on the road traveling on what I call "the mashed potato circuit." A little while after I write them, for example, I'll be speaking to a group of good people in a banquet hall. Right now, however, I'm looking down on a busy city at rush hour. The streets below are twin ribbons of sparkling red and white. Tail lights on the cars moving away from my vantage point provide the red and the headlights of those coming toward me the white, It's logical to assume all or most are homeward bound at the end of a days work. I wonder why some social engineer hasn't tried to get them to trade homes. The traffic is equally heavy in both directions, so, if they all lived in the end of town where they worked it would save a lot of travel time. But, better forget I said that and don't even think it or some bureaucrat will try to do it! I wonder, though, about the people in those cars--who they are, what they do, what they are thinking about as they head to the warmth of home and family. Come to think of it I've met them--oh--maybe not those particular individuals, but still I feel I know them. Some social planners refer to them as "the masses", which only proves they don't know them. I've been privileged to meet people all over this land in the special kind of way you meet them when you are campaigning. They are not "the masses", or as the elitists would have it-- "the common man." They are very uncommon. Individuals, each with his or her own hopes and dreams, plans and problems and the kind of quiet courage that makes this whole country run better than just about any other place on earth. By now, thinking of their homecoming I'm counting how many more hotel room windows I'll be looking out of before I'm in the rush hour traffic heading home. And yes, I'm feeling a little envious of the people in those cars down below. It seems I've said a thousand goodbyes, each one harder than the one before. Someone very wise once wrote that if we were all told one day that the end was coming; that we were living our last day, every road, every street and all the telephone lines would be jammed with people trying to reach someone to whom we wanted simply to say, "I love you." But why wait for such a final day and take the chance of not getting there in time? Speaking of time , I'll have to stop now. Hello, operator, I'd like to make a long distance call. This is Ronald Reagan. Thanks for listening. |
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