The first time I met Ronald Reagan, I did not like him.

He came to Vietnam in 1971 to boost morale and reaffirm America's dedication to the fight. Richard Nixon's “Peace With Honor” correctly read as code for surrender, and many of us were disgusted with the waste. I appreciated his handshake, but to a confused 18-year-old Reagan remained a pawn.

Fast-forward to 1976, graduate school in Atlanta, and Jimmy Carter. The charm and promise of his presidential campaign secured my service as a mascot. It did not take long to see the difference between the candidate and the man. His egocentricity mirrored Nixon without the competency and strength.

During Reagan's first presidential campaign we crossed paths a second time. I held out my hand and mentioned the first. His grip lingered longer than normal, and he celebrated my safe return. His eyes misted when he spoke — his understanding and sincerity dramatically trumped earlier assumptions.

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