Editing 78-02-B3 (section)

= Looking Out a Window =

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=== Transcript ===
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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=== Details ===
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<TR><TD WIDTH="150">Batch Number</TD><TD WIDTH="150">{{PAGENAME}}</TD></TR>
<TD>Production Date</TD><TD>01/27/[[Radio1978|1978]]</TD></TR>
<TD>Book/Page</TD><TD>[[Radio_Commentary_Books#Reagan:_In_His_Own_Hand|RihoH-18]]</TD></TR>
<TD>Audio</TD><TD>Yes</TD></TR>
<TD>Youtube?</TD><TD>No</TD></TR>
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===Added Notes===

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