It’s early 1987. Jack Kemp is at our home near Detroit on one of his many Michigan visits from 1985 to 1988. We are recruiting precinct delegates, county and district chairs in a ground game for 1988 presidential delegates. My 5-year-old son runs into the room with a small silver cowboy gun and red cowboy boots. And Jack just entertains young John as if he were one of his own boys. And, on command, everybody puts their hands up!