The Day Bill Buckley Died, I Cried

A couple weeks ago the Father of the Conservative Moment, William F. Buckley died. The 82 year old icon was found slumped over his desk, he went out writing. He never seemed to stop working, the author of over 50 books was working on biography of Ronald Reagan. My sense of loss was very powerful, I teared up and had a moment. His affect on me was immense, yes I am conservative and agreed with much of his thinking. But it wasn't primarily  my love for his thought or his Spy novels or books on many subjects that attracted me to him. It was the life he lived, his passion for thought, he lived life to the full.

When I read the  words of Jesus', " I have come that you might have life and live it to the full." I think of Buckley. He was a serious Catholic, devoted to his Lord and to his church. My favorite books were stories of his swashbuckling across the oceans, sailing hundreds of miles with his friends. Oh, did he have friends, ardent liberals economists like John Kenneth Galbraith, great thinkers such as Malcolm Muggeridge, or contemporary writers such Richard Brooks of the New York Times. He was the father of the modern conservative moment, but culturally he didn't fit. He said, "I am a conservative, but I am not of the breed." He was a lover of fine wine and food, an expert on art, opera, and classical music. His primary residence was in Stamford, CT, but he spent his winters skiing  in Switzerland, a good deal was spend in his New York City apartment where he would famously entertain the literary elite, most of whom did not agree with his politics. But they loved him, they liked to spend time with him.

The one book that affected me most was Overdrive, a week in his life. I read it three times, his life as a writer, host of his television debate program, Firing Line, his Editorship at National Review, his speech making and interviews all impressed on me as a way to make an impact on the world in which I live. I must confess that I strove to build a life like his. Along the way he introduced me to Malcolm Muggeridge with his Christmas interviews done in Muggeridge's home in the early 1980s. I read them every year, even watch them when I can find the DVD. Just reading who he read, listening to who he listened to, it made a big difference in my life. William F. Buckley showed me the way, of how to cobble a life together, and how to make a difference with the tools God has given me.

I never looked upon him as I do Jesus, but I did see him as an imperfect model that inspired me to take risks. So William F. Buckley, R.I.P.