What the hell does "Gipper" mean, anyway?

If this were a political blog, I probably try to write something nice and moderate about the recent passing of Ronald Reagan, something honoring the good he did for the American psyche, while regretting those policies I dislike and some precedents he set, in light of our current leadership.

But this isn't a political blog, and at this point I'm already in danger of picking a fight that I don't actually want to have with a substantial portion of my readership (i.e., the portion I'm related to). So instead, let me tell you about the time I dressed up as Ronald Reagan.

I don't know exactly what year it was, but it would have to have been 5th or 6th grade for me, so sometime in the first half of Reagan's first term. I also don't remember what the occasion was - couldn't have been Halloween, because we were all dressed up as American historical figures, but it couldn't have been the 4th of July either, because this was at school and the 4th of July is, you know, in July.

Anyway, pretty much all of the girls put on poofy blouses, skirts, and bonnets, and went as Betsy Ross. A lot of the boys went as historical figures (meaning dead guys), but I, already sure of Reagan's greatness and historical stature, put on jeans, a plaid shirt, and my blue blazer, put some of my mother's rouge on my cheeks, and I can't remember what kind of crap in my hair, and went as Ronald Reagan. I went around all day, leaning my head to one side, saying "Well..." a the start of each sentence, and doing the best impression of Reagan's voice that a prepubescent boy could manage.

There's not much more to the story than that, although in retrospect it occurs to me that even at a private school, Reagan was probably not overwhelmingly popular with my teachers, who therefore probably didn't think I was as cute as I did. I had completely forgotten about that until this week, and I'll probably forget about it again, but it's a funny memory while it lasts.