The American Spectator

/p> p> Though I came extremely late to the movement and the magazines, yours, his, and others — and though I found I did not see eye to eye with every position or opinion of the late Mr. Buckley — I already miss the absence of his voice — in both senses. br> — Robert Nowall br> Cape Coral, Florida /p> p> One would hope that Ann can take the baton and run like the wind with it and that more importantly those who call themselves “conservatives” and not just being conservative are up to the task WFB left for us to do. One thing WFB and his kind have always understood about the world is that the battles and the war over ideas are never ending. Given the leadership vacuum today Bill has left us with a very large “to do” list on our plate. br> — Thom Bateman br> Newport News, Virginia /p>

Since plagiarism is in the air, politically speaking that is, I’ll steal a few words of my own I sent to NRO on this doleful occasion, and add a few more.

I was on my way home in my gas guzzling, CO2 polluting SUV, when the announcement of Bill’s passing came over the radio. I had to pull off the road, the tears welled up, loss as well as joy. Without Bill, I might never have had the courage to own an SUV. I think he would’ve appreciated that with a laugh. Like so many of you reading this, I grew up with National Review magazine, “Firing Line,” everything Bill Buckley. One bonus for me is, that I even met Bill once, a day I shall never forget. It was in Houston, 1984, after a dinner talk he had given, and not long after one of National Review’s fund raisers.

The magazine was on hard times back then, probably because we now had Reagan, and thought we didn’t need NR any more. After introductions and a short chat about his presentation, I told Bill I’d given National Review $100 toward its fund drive, a token amount in my estimation. He was so gracious, and grateful, it was as if I’d given $100,000. Never in my life have I felt so appreciated, when it was supposed to be the other way around. That was Bill Buckley.

In the moments after I had pulled off the road, when the grief took hold, I realized something about Bill Buckley and conservatism. It was not God and Man at Yale, National Review, “Firing Line,” Young Americans for Freedom, the Conservative Party, Blackford Oakes, sailing, or any of the other things he accomplished in life that I will keep in my heart. Bill affirmed our souls, conservative, and liberal alike, even those who say they don’t believe they have a soul. His life was a celebration of life, an in your face statement that ultimately, conservatism is life. In such a person resides a spirit which is given over to a cause much higher than most of us will ever taste. Oh, how we shall miss him.