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>> ladies and gentlemen, please, take your seats. the program is about to begin. please silence all electronic devices, and no flash photography.

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as i am the resurrection must of the lord. he that believeth in me, yet working to show he live. i know my redeemer lives in my and he shall stand on the latter-day. and this body shall be destroyed, yet shall i see god. not as a stranger. , and no man, dies to himself, for if we live with unto the lord, and if we die we die unto the lord. whether we live therefore or die, we are the lord. blessed are the dead who die in the lord, even so, says the spirit, so they rest from their labors.

>> carry, halt. >> ready? up. ready, step. up. up. up.

♪ >> mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the lord, he is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored, he hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword, his truth is marching on.

glory, glory, hallelujah! glory, glory, hallelujah! glory, glory, hallelujah! his truth is marching on. i have seen him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps, they have builded him an altar in the evening dews and damps, i can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps, his day is marching on. glory, glory, hallelujah! glory, glory, hallelujah! glory, glory, hallelujah! his truth is marching on.

in the beauty of the lilies christ was born across the sea, with a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me. as he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, while god is marching on. glory, glory, hallelujah! glory, glory, hallelujah! glory, glory, hallelujah! his truth is marching on. glory, glory, hallelujah! glory, glory, hallelujah! glory, glory, hallelujah! his truth is marching on.

marching on. marching on. ♪ >> the lord be with you. let us pray. oh god, whose mercies cannot be numbered, accept our prayers on behalf of of thy servant nancy, and grant her an entrance into the land of light and joy in the fellowship of thy saints, through jesus christ, thy son our lord, who lives and reigns with you in the holy spirit, one god, now and forever, amen.

>> a reading from the book of proverbs. when one finds a worth the wife, her value is far beyond pearls. her husband, and trusting his heart tumor has unfeeling pride and should bring some good, and not evil all the days of her life. she obtained wool and flax and makes cloth with skillful hands. like merchant ships, she brings provisions from afar. she gets up while it is still night, and provides food for her household. out of her earnings, she plants a vineyard, she says about her work with strength, and sturdy are her arms. she sets about her treating with successes, and at night her lamp does not dim. in her hand she puts the distaff and in her fingers the spindle. she opens her arms to the poor

and extends her hands to the needy. they do not need to fear when the snow comes, all of her charges are doubly cloth. she makes covering for her bed, she is clothed in fine linen and purple. her husband is respected at the city gate, where he sits with the elders of the land. she makes linen garments and sells them, and stocks the merchants with belts. she is clothed with strength and dignity, she can laugh at the days to come. she opens her mouth with wisdom, and on her tongue is kindly council. she watches the conduct of her household and does not eat her food in idleness. her children rise up and praise her, her husband also extols her. many are the women of proven worth, but you excelled them all. charm is deceptive, and beauty fleeting, but a woman who fears the lord is to be praised. give her a reward of her labors,

and let her works praise for the city gates. the word of the lord. >> thanks be to god. >> in the spring of 1987, president reagan and i were driven into a large hanger and airport towa await the arrival of my wife and mrs. reagan, prior to the

departure ceremonies to the return to washington following their highly successful state visit to canada. president reagan i were alone except for the security detail. when her car drove in a moment later, out stepped, nancy and mila, looking like a million dollars. as they headed toward us, president reagan beamed, he threw his arm around my shoulder, and he said with a grin, you know, brian, for two irishmen, we sure married up. [laughter] i mention this anecdote again, because it reflects a unique reagan reality. she really, always, was on his mind. we all know of ron's love and admiration for nancy, and the elegance and constant manner in which he publicly expressed it. one day at the white house,

after another absolutely flowing tribute by president reagan to his beloved nancy, i said, privately, you know, ron, you're going to get me and all the rest of us here in a whole lot of trouble with our wives. because we cannot keep up with you. [laughter] the president chuckled and looked at me with that irish twinkle, and said well, brian, that is your problem, not mine. [laughter] to illustrate this absolutely unique partnership and relationship, let me share with you today a letter he wrote to nancy on their first christmas together in the white house, on december 25, 1981.

"dear mrs. r, there are several less beloved women in my life and on christmas i should be giving them gold and precious stones and furs and lace and perfume. i know these will fall short of expressing how much these women mean to me and how into my life would be without them. there is, of course, my first lady. she brings so much grace and charm to whatever she does, that even stuffy, formal functions sparkle and turn into fun times. everything is done with class. all i have to do is wash up and show up. there's another woman in my life who does things i do not always get to see, but i hear about them and see photos of them. she takes an abandoned child in her arms, and the look on her face, only the madonna could

match. and the look on her face is one of adoration, because i adore her too. she bends over a wheelchair, and will touch an elderly involent with warmth and compassion. there is another gal i love, who is a nest builder. if she were stuck for three days in a hotel room, she would manage to make it home sweet home. she moves things around, looks at it, straightens this, straightens that, and you wonder why it was not like that in the first place. i am also crazy about the girl who goes to the ranch with me. if we are tidying up the woods, she is a powerhouse. pushing over dead trees. she is a wonderful person to sit by the fire with, or to ride with, or just to be with when the sun goes down and the stars come out.

if ever she stopped going to the ranch, i'd stopped too, because i would see her in every beauty spot there is, and i couldn't stand that. then there is a sentimental lady i love, whose eyes fill up so easily. on the other hand, she loves to laugh them and her laugh is like tinkling bells. i hear those bells, and i feel good all over, even if i tell a joke she has heard many times before. fortunately, all of these women in my life are you. fortunately for me that is, for there could be no life for me without you. browning asked, how do i love thee? let me count the ways. for me, there is no way to

count for i love the whole gang of you, mommy, first lady, the sentimental you, the fun you, and the peewee powerhouse you. merry christmas all, all my love, lucky me." theirs was a love story for the ages. as first couple, ron and nancy reagan represented america with great distinction. they had a magnificent sense of vocation. they had style, and they had grace, and they had class. some of you may have heard my reference to lines from william butler yates when talking in other circumstances to with reagan's meant to us all. today, those same golden words tumble across continents and down the vista of the years, as

we think of nancy reunited, finally, with her beloved ronnie. yates wrote, think where man's glory most begins and ends, and say my glory was that i had such friends. ♪

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>> we do not want you to be unaware, brothers, all those who have fallen asleep, so that you may not grieve like the rest, who have no hope. for we believe that jesus died and rose, so too will god, through jesus, bring with him those who have fallen asleep. indeed, we tell you this on the word of the lord, that we who are alive and left until the coming of the lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. for the lord himself, with the word of command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet of god will come down from heaven and the dead in christ will rise first. we who are alive who are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the lord in the air. thus, we shall always be with the lord. therefore, console one another with these words.

the word of the lord. >> thanks be to god. >> thank you so much. it is an honor, and i'm so grateful to be included today. i have been asked to say a few words before i read a passage from the new testament for mrs. reagan. you may want to sit down. [laughter] 15 years ago i interviewed her, it was long after the white house years, and i did not know her then. but our conversation was about the president and alzheimer's,

and how you go on when every single day, the size of the love is the size of the loss. and when the interview was over, we kept talking. and i checked in with her by phone, and came to los angeles to have lunches with her. those lunches, in which she a microscopic amounts of food, tiny chopped salads and one chocolate chip cookie, and iced tea. i was so terrified of that i used to hide my roll under the table and butter it, so she would not see it. i did not want to offend her. [laughter] but make no mistake, she would bop a journalist if she did not like a report that was done. she never seemed to harden

differences into definition. she was way too interested in people into you really were, what you really knew. all of us will together in this life. and so we talked about politics, and celebrities, and she told wicked stories about old hollywood. and the days when life would throw you a curve, and you would get up and put on your lipstick, comb your hair, and kept the band playing. i always thought of that "morocco," that said there is no foreign legion, just for women, but there is a foreign legion for women as well. they have no uniform, no flag, no medals, but they are brave. as lunch would end, she would make her way up the hill to the house with the memories, the silences, and her happiness when the children were coming. and all this week i have been

thinking about watching her head down the hall, because she would head into the bedroom and right there, i cannot remember what it was, was a pillow or a frame to needlepoint, but i know the words were clearly for president reagan. it said if you must leave, could you just take me with you? i think of that again today as i am asked to read this passage from the gospel of john. jesus said, "do not let your hearts be troubled. trust in god, trust also in me. in my father's house are many rooms, if it were not so, i would have told you. i go to prepare a place for you, and if i go to prepare a place for you, i will come back and take you with me so that where i am. you know the way to the place

where i am going." thomas said to him, "lord, we don't know where you are going, so how can we know the way?" jesus answered, "i am the way and the truth and the life. no one comes to the father except through me." for nancy, the word of the lord. >> thanks be to god. ♪

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>> we gather here today to say goodbye to nancy davis reagan, a beautiful, smart, and gracious woman, a woman who captured the heart of a man who loved his craft, his country, and his countrymen, and most especially, loved this remarkable woman. a woman without whom ronald wilson reagan would never have become the 40th president of the united states, or succeeded as well as he did. the cold war that president reagan did so much to end

brought them together. in 1950, the name nancy davis appeared on a list of communist sympathizers, with the hollywood blacklisters know that this was a different person, and not the young actress? she took her problem to her union boss, the president of the screen actors guild, ronald reagan. they met at a hollywood restaurant. the dinner would be brief, they agreed, because each had an early casting call. in fact, neither had an early casting call. [laughter] an early casting call was the standard hollywood excuse to put a quick end to unpleasant dinners. but when i opened the door, she wrote later, i knew he was the man i wanted to marry. their meeting lasted through dinner, and then into the wee

hours at a nearby club. the third age in shakespeare's "seven ages of man" is the lover, sighing like a furnace, with a woeful ballard. shakespeare, of course, is gently mocking young lovers, their passion always burns hot, he said, and then it fades. well, the bard never met nancy or her ronnie. as prime minister mulroney pointed out, they could hardly bear to be apart. when he was on a movie set, or on the road for general electric, or as a candidate, or as governor, or as president, he wrote her every single night. when they were together, he hid love notes around the house for her to find. one christmas at pacific

palisades, he wrote, "whatever i treasure and enjoy, all would be without meeting if i did not have you. i live in a permanent christmas because god gave me you." nancy saved his love letters in a shopping bag in her closet. she reciprocated by slipping little notes and jellybeans in with the clothes in his suitcase. and while he was away, she said, i would drive home feeling very lonely and very sad, and i would knit him socks. she also reciprocated by dedicating her life to him. "i was, i suppose, a woman of the old school," she wrote. if you wanted to make your life with a man, you took on whatever his interests were, and they became your interests, too. if ronald reagan had owned a shoe store, nancy would have

been very happy pushing shoes and working the register. ronald reagan's interest turned in a different direction, of course, to politics and public service. nancy, who might have preferred a more private life, became the consummate political wife and first lady. he owed much of the success of his presidency to her. she had an instinct for reading people that the president knew he lacked. nancy, he wrote, sees the goodness in people, but she also has an extra instinct that allows her to see the flaws. nancy was the president's eyes and years when it came to personnel.

she knew who was paddling their own canoe and who was loyal to the president. she was as tough as a marine drill sergeant, as many of us found out when things did not go well. [laughter] the president's advisers learn to keep her informed and seek her support. if she trusted them and agreed, she would at her voice to their's, but she was, without a doubt, absolutely without a doubt, his closest advisor. she is the one who said, you need to do this, ronnie, you need to find a way to negotiate with gorbachev. the only time i saw her lose her composure was the day the president was shot. she was devastated and, in fact, she fell apart. even in his condition, he did his best to give her strength. honey, i forgot to duck, he said. that was his way of comforting her. president reagan left the hospital convinced that god had spared him for a special purpose, and the first lady left with a fierce determination to

protect him in every way that she possibly could. ronald and nancy reagan were defined by their love for each other. they were as close to being one person as it is possible for any two people to be. when the president made his slow exit from the stage, she dedicated herself to his memory, and to his place in history. now she, too, has exited the stage to join her beloved ronnie in eternity. i can just imagine how st. peter might let the president know that she had arrived. a beautiful lady is at the gate asking for you, he said, with a jar of jelly beans. a shopping bag full of letters, and a suitcase filled with hand-knitted socks. we love you, nancy.

we miss you, but we will see you on the other side. tom brokaw: this is a very emotional and evocative time for me. i arrived in los angeles in 1966 to join nbc news three and a half years out of south dakota, i was 26 years old, and the

geniuses on the nbc news desk said to me there is an actor running for governor of california. we don't think he is going anywhere, you are the junior guy, so you get on the bus with him. [laughter] it is also worth pointing out that was before the brown family put a semipermanent lease on the governor's office of california. [laughter] and so i did. it was such an instructive beginning for me as a political correspondent, because i saw the best run campaign i had ever seen up to that point, and maybe since. by the time the governor got ready to run for a second term, i knew my way around, so i went to the los angeles press club where he would make his announcement, and walked into the holding room early and took a seat in the far corner. then i realized it was kind of reserved for reagan supporters and family and friends because they began to line the walls, including jimmy and gloria stuart. nancy came in and she was on autopilot as she made her way around that wall of friends and supporters, giving each a kiss

and aeze of the hand, word or two. it dawned on me that she was going to get to me. i am the outlier at that point, i'm a reporter from the press. she got to me and she leaned back and i quickly said, mrs. reagan, whatever it is i have, it is not catching. she laughed heartily, leaned over, and gave me a kiss. that was the beginning of a remarkable friendship between the first lady and a reporter. it was also a time when i began to appreciate just how much she meant to the man who became the president of the united states not just as his wife, but as his , best political advisor, as jim baker and others have pointed out. she could be as we all saw in , those photographs and videos, the adoring wife in public, but behind the scenes was a politically astute analyst and the keeper of the flame.

we stayed in close touch, but it was not always easy. shortly after his inauguration as president, i made some public comments about his early years in which i said i thought the poor boy narrative was somewhat overblown. after all, he had been a successful broadcaster in his 20's and then a movie star under contract before he was 30. nancy was furious, and the word came from jim baker and others, stay clear of the white house for a while. we will let you know when it is safe to go back. [laughter]

tom brokaw: about two months later, meredith and i were invited to a state dinner and i was told that i would have to think about what i arrived in the receiving line. don't say anything to the president, he doesn't care, but nancy is still steaming. meredith was nervous because i had not come up with anything to say. finally, i stood before her, and i saw hinder her eyes that steely glaze from people who did not please her. and i spontaneously said, nancy, back to square one. she looked at me and broke out laughing and said, back to square one. the next day, a white house photograph of that moment arrived with the inscription, tom, back to square one, love, nancy. that was such a telling moment of how astute she was as a political wife, as someone who knew about personal relationships, how to get her message across, and then quickly move on. we all saw those other moments when she was utterly in command. jim has referred to that awful day when the president was shot. they did not know what his condition was. when the secret service told her that there was a shooting, the president was rushed to the hospital, she said i must go.

they said we don't think that is a good idea. she said right away, you get me a car or i will walk to the hospital. the president and i shared a birthday. over the years, it became an occasion to share phone calls and notes, especially between mrs. reagan and me. when the president was going through his ordeal after leaving the white house, our calls became more regular, and i could hear her loneliness, and on one of the calls i suggested the next time i'm in california, we should have lunch, and maybe we should invite our mutual friend warren beatty. oh, no, tom, she said, it is enough to have lunch with you. i'm told the next day when the phone call arrived and it was nancy saying, do you think warren might want to have lunch with us? [laughter] tom brokaw: of course. and the luncheon companion star power of many multiples. one there is nothing like walking into a los angeles dining room with mrs. reagan on your arm.

brokaw and beatty were also quickly in the publications. we treasure those lunches because she always arrived with mr. political observations and the best gossip from both coasts. metaphorically, there was a lunch for me. eulogist at president ford's funeral, i looked down at the first few and decided it was my duty to name them, president and mrs. bush, president and mrs. bush, president carter, and vice president dick cheney,

president and mrs. clinton. i finished my remarks, walked about, sat beside meredith and said to me, you did not mention nancy. i said, she is not here. she said, yes, she is, she is hidden behind the column. i had not seen her, so i'm eagerly called ever speech will friend stu spencer who answered by saying, what were you thinking, brokaw? stu, do you think she noticed? [laughter] tom brokaw: are you kidding? here is her mobile number. call her right now, which i did. i took my medicine from an aggrieved friend for the next 15 minutes, until she accepted my explanation, and then it was back to square one again, and the way i got out of it was, she had been given a terrible seat, i agreed. what i so admired about nancy was that ability to do just that. she knew how to protect her husband and her president, but also her own place, to stand her ground, and once it had been resolved and move on. that was never more evident on the many occasions when i spoke here at the library. we meet in a holding room downstairs to catch up on the latest gossip, what was going on in our personal lives, and then

after everyone had been seated, especially after she was confined to wheelchair, i would help get her to her feet, then we would take her to an entryway that had been curtained off, and beyond the entry way could hear the music began to swell, and off stage announcer intoning, ladies and gentlemen, the former first lady of the united states nancy reagan, and her guest tom brokaw. i would escort her into the auditorium and into the front side ofsee her to the tom selleck, her friend, and then give my lecture. the last time we were there together, i received an enthusiastic response from the audience. but i wanted to be sure nancy approved, so i leaned over to her seat as the applause continued and said, i hope that was ok. she whispered back to me, tom, give me a little kiss, they are

going to love that. [laughter] tom brokaw: and so, i did, and so they did. our shared editor of random house reminded me that when we lost nancy last weekend, it would have been the 68th anniversary of their marriage, ronnie and nancy. so god bless nancy, mrs. ronald reagan, first lady, and the unlikely friend of a reporter. thank you, nancy. patti davis: in the month before

my father died, my mother repeated often that she had to be there at his last moment. her determination was ferocious. she simply had to be at his side when he left this world. i said the only thing i could think of, and what i thought my father would say, was that it was in god's hands. she was there, and occasionally i thought, even god might not have the guts to argue with nancy reagan. as her own health declined, she was quite adamant and vocal about reuniting with my father on the other side after her passing. i am hoping for god's peace of mind, that she got her wish. my parents were two halves of a circle closed tight around a world in which their love for each other was the only substance they needed. while they might venture out and

include others in their orbit, no one truly crossed the boundary into the space they held as theirs. i saw this exquisitely portrayed in front of me one summer evening when i was a teenager. we used to rent a beach house for a few weeks in the summer. on this evening with a vivid sunset streaked across the sky, i looked out and saw my parents sitting on the sand, close together, heads tilted in conversation. there was so much of vastness around them, the blue pacific, the orange and pink sky, miles of white sand, and then there was the circle of their own private world, as clear as if it had been traced around them, indestructible, impenetrable, and island for two. i knew i would carry that image with me for the rest of my life. when my father was shot and my mother rushed to the hospital, they at first would not let her see him. i have to, she said.

you don't understand how it is with us. the moment before my father died, he opened his eyes, which had been closed for days, and he looked straight at my mother. the circle was drawn again as he left this world. in the weeks after he died, my mother thought she heard his footsteps coming down the hall late at night. she said he would appear to her long after midnight, sitting on the edge of the bed. i don't know anything about the possible passages between this world and the next, but i do know her faith in these visits eased some of her loneliness. they made her feel that he was close by. on one occasion, i am quite certain that she was channeling my father. i had gone up to her house and found her very busy making phone calls to elected officials, trying to gain their support for stem cell legislation, something she was quite passionate about. she ended one phone call and

gave me a somber look. well, she said, in a calm tone, sounding much more like my father than herself, karl rove is dogging my phone calls. everyone i call, he calls right after and try to get them to oppose stem cell legislation. right after, i asked, are you sure your phone is not bugged? no, i had the secret service check on that. [laughter] patti davis: you must be furious, i told her, puzzled by the fact that she did not seem furious at all. she shook her head, no, and her entire demeanor was not only calm, it was practically zen. even people who never knew my

mother will know that the word zen has never been applied to nancy reagan. but that is what i saw. there is no time to get upset, she said, there is work to be done, i cannot get distracted. i have to keep moving forward. i admit, i did say, who are you, and what have you done with my mother? [laughter] overtime, which she referred to as late-night visit from my father deceased, she no longer heard his footsteps in the hall, but she never stopped missing him. she tells me once the reason she had a television on all the time was because it filled the house with sound and made her feel less lonely. another remedy for her loneliness was to fill the empty spaces with stories and memories. a few days before she died, i reminded her of something that happened many decades ago when we lived in pacific palisades.

my father used to get massage is from a large eastern european men who would come to the house and set up his massage table in my parents dressing room. on one of these days, as my father lay face down on a table, my mother tiptoed in, kissed him lightly on the back of his neck, and tiptoed out. [laughter] patti davis: he did not know it was her. [laughter] patti davis: but he went through the rest of the massage. [laughter] patti davis: never said a word, and after he left it he said to

, my mother, i don't think we can have him back anymore. [laughter] patti davis: why, she asked, what happened? well, he kissed me. when she told him it was her he was flooded with relief, and , said, thank god, i did not know what to do. my mother's laughter in remembering that day was unbeknownst to me, would turn out to be the last time i would hear her laugh. it is no secret that my mother and i had a challenging and often contentious relationship. when i was a child, i imagined having warm, comfortable conversations with her, the kind of conversations that feel like lamplight. the reality was far different. i tried her patients, and she intimidated me. we were never mild with one another, whether we were distant and angry, or bonded and close. our emotions burned up the color chart. nothing was ever gray. but there were moments in our history when all that was going on between us was love. i choose to remember those moments. i choose to remember the mother

who held together the gaping wound on the back of her young daughter's head after she fell at a friends house and cracked her skull open on the fireplace hearth. she drove with one hand and held my head with the other, talking soothingly to me and trying to conceal the fear in her eyes. watching her was hypnotic. it made my head hurt less. i choose to remember my mother, framed by the window of a new york hotel room as i told her that i have been involved in a complicated relationship for two years and had now been cruelly tossed aside. i was 19. i felt older and more wounded than any 19-year-old should feel. i needed a mother, and i came to mine, holding out a fragile hope that she would keep me from crumbling beyond all beyond recognition. she did. she did not judge me, she was not punishing or accusatory.

she was tender, understanding and loving. i choose to remember walking with her along the beach at trancas. somehow, the ocean always calms the air between us and allows us to be easy with each other. most of all, i will remember looking out the window to the sweep of sunset and seeing my parents sitting together on the sand, maybe on the other side there are other shores and internally brilliant sunsets. maybe it's possible to sit there forever, undisturbed, two souls happily entwined in eating only each other. robert sexton wrote, across the years, i will walk with you. indeed green forests, on short sands, and when our time on

earth is through, in heaven, too, you will have my hand. i hope for my parents those parents don't live only in the poet's imagination, but are a map to what they both long for and believed in in the world beyond this one.

ron reagan: i love that story about the masseur. i imagined my father laying naked on the table, laying there, just waiting for this man to do something else. what must have been going through his mind? [laughter] ron reagan: i guess i'm batting cleanup here, so on behalf of my family, thank you all for coming here. we really appreciate it. my sister patty and i who suddenly find ourselves orphaned, really appreciate being surrounded by so much love and kindness. to jim, tom, everybody else who spoke, their kind words, appreciate that very much. and to the folks at the library here who put this whole thing on. what a terrific job they have done. we so much appreciate that, too. she did love a party, and she would want this to be a party. this is not a tragedy, this is a celebration. i hope you had a chance to have a look around here. some of you, of course, have been here many times before. i hope you realize, none of this would have been possible without nancy reagan. i do not mean that she was

active in fund raising, building the library -- of course, she was. what i mean to say is there would be no ronald reagan presidential library without a president ronald reagan, and there likely would not have been a president ronald reagan, without a nancy reagan. of course, it may not have happened that way, if she was not made of such stern stuff, she may not have made it all the way to being mrs. ronald reagan. my dad played hard to get a little bit when they were dating, way back when. he had already purchased a ranch not too far from here in malibu, and he loved to go there and ride his horses and buck hey, generally get dirty and sweaty outdoors and that kind of thing. not the kind of thing that she is really crazy about, my mother. but she was a good sport, and she wanted to participate in this. if he loved his ranch, well, she was going to love the ranch, too. so they would go out there, and he would do his thing, and she would wonder how she could help. this ranch in malibu, about 700 acres, had a long driveway that led to the house, about a half mile, fences on both sides. so they would go out there and

ranchers, bute she wanted to help, as i said, so she asked him, what can i do to help? did i mention that the fences lining that half mile driveway were unpainted? [laughter] so he handed her a bucket of paint and a brush, and my mother painted a miles worth of fence. every post, every plank, both sides. once. [laughter] ron reagan: that paint job lasted for the duration. now, my father was confident, but he was not an arrogant man at all.

it takes a great deal chutzpah to run for president of the united states or even governor of california, for that matter. and her absolute believe in him gave him that chutzpah to run for office. my mother provided encouragement. she guided him, provided a refuge into which he could repair to gather his strength, she guarded his privacy, she protected him. both possessed great individual talents, but as a couple, they were more than the sum of their parts, and it would be a mistake, by the way, to consider her somehow subordinate to him, just because he was the one usually taking center stage. they were co-equals. they complemented one another. individually, they may have gone far, but together, they could, and did, go anywhere. my father was inclined to believe that everyone was

basically good, and that certainly anyone who worked for him was pure of heart and could never be nursing a private agenda. my mother did not share that inclination. [laughter] ron reagan: and she did not have that luxury. in my mother's world, you are either helpful to her husband, or you were not. i think we all know which side of the equation you would want to be on. since we are among friends, i think we can admit that she was not always the easiest person to deal with. she could be difficult, demanding, she could be a bit obsessive, truly, a royal pain in the ass, when she wanted to be. but usually only so that my father did not have to be. you did not want to get on mom's bad side, particularly by hurting her husband. if you did that, you had earned yourself and implacable foe. if you happen to run into the

ghost of don regan sometime, you can just ask him. on the other hand, you couldn't ask for a more loyal or dedicated friend. just ask joan rivers, should you run into her in the hereafter. when joan's husband died, she was on the east coast, and joan could not get the corner to release the body, so he could come home to the west coast. joan is a comedian, she did not know who to call. who do you call to pull strings like this? she was acquainted with my mother, but they were not great friends yet. nevertheless, she bucked up her courage and called the white house and got my mother on the phone. joan's husband's body was on the next plane out of town to the west coast, and joan became my

mother's buddy for the rest of her life. i see the faces of many friends here today, people that have known and loved my mother for years. but most of my mother's buddies are gone now. she is among the last of her cohort, the old gang, her generation, and now she is truly with them. if my mother had one, great talent, it was that she knew how to love, and she loved one man more than the world. in her later years after my father had gone, she used to ask me, whether i thought she would be with him again when she died. i'm not a believer in the supernatural, but i always assured her, wherever that had gone, she was surely going to go there, too. we should all be so lucky to end up where we have always wanted to be, and today my mother comes to rest on this lovely hilltop with its far-reaching views, next to her beloved ronald reagan library, and by the way, from here, she will be able to keep an eye on things.

just saying. no slacking. how long will it be before tales begin to emerge with a petite chanel spirit roaming the galleries and the halls? just checking to make sure that things are running smoothly. but most importantly, she will once again lay down beside the man who was the love of her life, the one that she loved until the end of her days. they watched the sun dropped over the hills over the west toward the sea as night falls, they would look across the valley. my father would tell her the lights below are the jewels for her. the moon and the stars will turn overhead, and here they will stay, as they always wished it to be, resting in each other's arms, only each other's arms, until the end of time.