Most things have been said about President Donald J. Trump in his life. After Tuesday’s comeback speech and his first six weeks in office, it’s time to add “historic orator.”

It wasn’t always like this, though the seeds were always there. The first time I met the future president was at the Hanover Street Chophouse on a cold New Hampshire night in 2016. I’d heard a lot about the man and seen plenty too. He’d been an authentic American celebrity for decades — a businessman and a developer, an author, and a game-show host.

You’ll see some great politicians again in your life, but you’ll never, ever see a man like Trump.

What he had not quite achieved was “politician,” and the D.C. press corps was convinced he couldn’t do it.

“He’s a germaphobe!” they cried. “Do you think Donald J. Trump is going to kiss babies and connect with the common man?” they asked. I wasn’t so sure their skepticism would hold up. I’d seen him speak earlier in a small town north of Des Moines, Iowa, and had been struck that he strolled into a high school gymnasium in a Brioni suit and a red trucker cap and been embraced by a crowd of men in Vietnam War T-shirts and leather jackets, there with their families and friends to hear the New Yorker out.

I’d seen politicians play dress-up before: a suit in front of the middle class; lose the tie and roll up the sleeves with the workers; replace the jacket with a preppy campaign vest at the golf course. Trump didn’t do any of that — ever. He was his authentic self, and even that day, when he was tired, he was his authentic self.

In Manchester, in 2016, we met up close. He took pictures with little kids and told one punch-happy boy to stop whacking his brother and smile for mom’s camera. By the time he walked over to our table, he was brimming with stories from the debate the night before. “I was worried for him!” he laughed about one politician who had done himself no favors. “I asked, ‘Is he OK?’”

The next morning, we saw him again at a small diner where Republican candidates swing in for interviews with “Fox & Friends,” hand out a few obligatory handshakes, and are whisked off to the next event.

Gov. Jeb Bush was slumped over at the counter when we walked in, like a painting of depression. Gov. Chris Christie was in and out, all business. Not Trump. By the time he sat down for the show, he knew the kitchen staff by name. He ordered pancakes while on the air and asked the cook who she was voting for (“America!” she shouted back, and he snickered that he wouldn’t have asked had he not known her answer already). An hour later, he was still at the diner, eating pancakes and holding court.

Here, I thought, was a politician our media did not understand.

Before he took the oath of office, Trump was a proven master of the stump speech. In fact, he never gave one. Remember: Politicians have to give a speech on the campaign trail multiple times a day, every day, and so they give the same one over and over again. Not Trump. He was full of surprises, and that is why reporters covered every one of them, much to the chagrin of his opponents.

Before he took the oath, Trump was a proven master of comedy. From late-night shows to variety shows, he could read a room, make fun of himself (another D.C. myth proven wrong), and even draw laughter from his enemies from time to time.

The day he took the oath of office in 2017, I was sitting a few rows back from the balcony. This would be President Donald Trump now. How would he perform? The speech, “American Carnage,” is famous — and for good reason. It painted a bleak picture of where we were as a country. Our elites had sold us out, and now they were lining up against him. The dark foreshadowing was prophetic: We had no idea yet just how far they’d go.

Over the next four years, he’d take slings and arrows from every corner of the globe; from world leaders and his own party here in Washington; from professional sports and from Hollywood; from our corporate media and even the American intelligence apparatus.

Through it all, he matured. His 2019 speech at Normandy was historic, in that he laid out a vision not just for the United States, but for the Western world. His speech reminded us of the presidents we’d seen in the past, from Ronald Reagan to John F. Kennedy, and even of the presidents we’d read about, like Abraham Lincoln. He understood where we were struggling and where we needed to go.

Throughout his first term, he struggled as well. Even his tattooed, biker-vest fans would whisper on the campaign trail, “Do you think he could tone down the tweets?” (hysterical as they were). They wanted someone who didn’t just speak to their hopes and fears but acted in the manner they’d come to expect a president to act. Trump did not always conform.

But that’s not the Trump we’ve seen this second term. It’s been five years since his last address to a joint session of Congress, when he brought grown men to tears with his moving tribute to a dying Rush Limbaugh, legend of the airwaves. The whole world has changed since that night. COVID hadn’t happened yet. A major land war in Europe was still a distant memory. Things felt good here, the economy was humming, and Trump was an embattled politician fighting an impeachment. Five years later, at that same podium, we see an authentic statesman.

It’s difficult to describe the journey of a man global elites dismissed as an embarrassing aberration to one the founding editor of Politico called “the greatest American figure of his era.” When he resumed office, he returned not simply a deeply credible and respected leader, but an iconic one whose near-assassination on the air had turned him into both a humbled and generational figure. In his second inaugural, he seemed to understand the weight of his mission (and the nature of his opposition) more deeply than ever before.

His second inaugural was bold and expansive. Far from the darkness of his first, he painted a bright picture of a golden age. Men and women who had stood against him now stood beside him. Others sat quietly while he listed their failings just feet away.

Tuesday night, he didn’t shy from the same critiques, nor did his Democratic opponents. For the first time in modern history, the sergeant at arms was forced to restore order by removing a septuagenarian member who disrupted the address like a teenage protester.

Trump still showed a fire in his belly, but he was less caustic, less abrasive. He listed his accomplishments, but also stood in bright contrast to his opposition, who waved little signs and pouted. Who looks presidential now?

He mixed in his humor as well. He went off script. He teased his childish and fuming opponents and lifted up his cheering allies. He drifted from grandiosity to stand-up seamlessly. He added an entirely new move to the bag of presidential addresses, signing an executive order at the podium. He made a little boy fighting brain cancer named DJ Daniel, who dreamed of being a police officer, an honorary agent of the Secret Service. He freed an American man from a Russian prison camp.

Beyond politics, he was both the man I met nine years ago on a snowy night in New Hampshire and a man deeply changed. He was a man who shows a real understanding of the principles of America, life, and liberty, but also one grounded in the fragility of mortality and the momentousness of the movement that has built up around him.

He is our orator in chief. Enjoy it. You’ll see some great politicians again in your life, but you’ll never, ever see a man like Trump.

Blaze News: Does anybody remember how to behave in public?