Mr. Buckley was in every sense my political tutor and mentor, that is if one can call someone with whom one has no personal relationship in the physically present sense a mentor.   

At at time when girls my age were "gaga" over Donny Osmond, I had what can only be described as a crush on Mr. Buckley and turned down dates in those pre-VCR, pre-TIVO days to watch Firing Line.  His reading list became my reading list, and I was educated.  Through him I was introduced to Whittaker Chambers, Hayek, Malcolm Muggeridge, Dorothy Sayers and a host of others. Indeed, my marriage is connected to Bill Buckley—he was at the University of South Carolina for a Firing Line program (a "Star Wars" debate panel); a young man I was dating knew me to be a fan and managed through connections and sheer audaciousness to smuggle me into the invitation-only reception afterward.  He buttonholed Mr. Buckley for me as he was slipping out. Notwithstanding what must have been an unwelcome detour, Mr. Buckley was unfailingly gracious, brightening as I avoided the debate topic and chatted instead about Blackford Oakes. He gave every indication, from the time spent conversing and the attention he bestowed, that the diversion was not only not unwelcome but pleasant. The young man's actions that night so raised him in my estimation we engaged not long after. One of my treasured birthday gifts from this husband is a Buckley campaign pin from his New York mayoral campaign and an excellent copy of The Unmaking of a Mayor. 

My condolences to his family and those privileged to know him personally.  (And  I trust they do not find it presumptuous of those of us who did not know him as they did  to express such keen senses of connection and profound sense of loss.)  Surely Psalm 16:6 captures his life: "The lines are fallen unto me in pleasant places; yea, I have a goodly heritage." And for those of us who have access to his work, we have a goodly heritage as well.
Nancy Barkman Rights