Count me among the many whose lives were touched by Ronald Reagan. For me, it began in 1980 in Lansing, Michigan. I was living on the city's east side, an older neighborhood tucked between Michigan State University and the big Oldsmobile plant.

That year I was the Democratic nominee for the Ingham County Board of Commissioners. Though at 23 I wasn't the ideal candidate for a district made up of auto workers and state employees, I was convinced that my tough-minded rhetoric about stray dogs -- and the district's Democratic bent -- would help me overcome the Republican incumbent.

With the exception of U.S. Solicitor General Ted Olson's appearance before the Supreme Court on Tuesday -- to argue against affirmative action in the University of Michigan cases -- few within the Republican Party seem to have much to say these days about racial reconciliation. It's a far cry from the way things were last December, when Sen. Trent Lott's (R-Miss.) nostalgia for the Old South transformed the once-mighty Republican leader into so much political roadkill. At the time, it was hardly surprising when Sen. Bill Frist (R-Tenn.) used his first major press event as Lott's replacement to talk about the state of race relations in America. The soft-spoken Tennessee doctor could have chosen to offer up mere platitudes about racial healing -- but he went one step further, saying: