I spent much of this weekend reconnecting with old friends brought together by the passing of Reed Irvine, founder of Accuracy in Media and Accuracy in Academia. Excellent eulogies by Cliff Kincaid, Hugh Turley, and Peter LaBarbera made Reed's funeral the only church service I can remember that I wanted to go on longer.

I spent five-and-a-half years as executive director of AIA, working as a twentysomething conservative for a WWII vet. Somehow, the relationship worked. Reed wore many hats in his long life--Marine, Fulbright Scholar, Federal Reserve Board economist, media watchdog, father, grandfather, husband, mentor.

One of his talents that I never encountered was that of poet. But Reed, to my surprise, had a gift for that as well. Recently, some AIM employees came upon this poem of Reed's in his papers that was written more than five years ago, as he sensed his last years were before him. I am grateful that it was shared with his friends and family at his funeral. It's absolutely beautiful, and I'd like to share it with you.

I didn't just lust for fleeting fame
Or dream of ill-gotten booty.
I valued more my unstained name
And devotion to my duty.

Cursed are those whose god is gold
Amassed at any cost.
And so are those whose road to fame
Is strewn with loved ones lost.

May I be blessed with love sincere
From those whose love I cherish.
And may my progeny revere
My example when I perish.

And when there tolls the final bell
And life winds to its end,
I pray that those who knew me well
Will proudly call me friend.

--Reed Irvine, April 5, 1999