Right now I’m reading “Dutch – a Memoir of Ronald Reagan” by his official biographer, Edmund Morris.
In this book, Morris refers to a love note written by the President to the First Lady. It’s a good one!
My dear first lady… I could offer you my heart but I’d have to get it back from you first. There just isn’t anything to get for someone who already has everything I can afford…. Perhaps I should talk about what you’ve given me because that makes you the most blessed person in these here parts.
Your gift to me is uninsurable. No appraiser can put a value on it. How could he figure the market value of feeling a tingle of excitement and anticipation every time I start for home? Or the way I can’t help but walk fast when I get there, hurrying for the first sight of y0u? Just waking up becomes a warm glow because you are there – just as the whole house is haunted when you aren’t.
It’s like fruit of the month on a lifetime subscription – a perpetual motion happiness machine. It starts off fresh and brand new every day shining up my whole world.
Thank you for loving me and seeing that I’m smart enough to stay very much in love with you….