Jeb Bush could do it all.

He can even make us feel nostalgic for Jeb Bush.

Florida’s first two-term Republican governor is 72 now. He’s a bit thinner on top, and with his large dark-rimmed glasses, he looks a bit like a political science professor.

But he hasn’t changed. When the Jebster returns to the spotlight, as he did this week, he immediately reminds us of what it was like to be led by a governor who’s fully engaged in governing, all the time.

After six-and-a-half years of Ron DeSantis running roughshod over our state, admit it: Regardless of your own political views, you miss Bush dearly.

He was a leader who led with conviction and not calculation, who made sincere efforts to connect with his constituents.

To govern is not hopping from city to city, holding press conferences, scowling from behind a lectern and constantly skewering or threatening those who dare to disagree with you.

Bush, by contrast, is funny, humble and refreshingly self-deprecating, able to poke fun at his own imperfections.

It’s impossible to not like someone like that.

Bush reappeared to deliver the eulogy for a close political ally and friend, John Thrasher.

The former Florida State University president, House speaker, prominent lobbyist and Republican Party leader died of cancer in May at the age of 81.

On Tuesday, Bush addressed a crowd at FSU of hundreds of political and education leaders, and recalled the advice Thrasher gave him in his 1998 campaign for governor.

“He said, ‘First, Jeb, you’re too wonky,'” Bush said. “In your campaign, lay out what you want to do as governor — not by 10-point plans to cure the common cold, but tell stories. Campaign in a way where you can connect with people, because you’re not really good at it.”

Sure enough, the Bush who ran in 1998 was much more likeable than the angry, right-wing ideologue who narrowly lost to Lawton Chiles in 1994.

In his second try, Bush won easily. He changed the course of Florida history, for better or worse, and in his first two years, the strong-willed Thrasher was at his side.

Together with Senate President Toni Jennings of Orlando, they passed record tax cuts, made the FCAT the cornerstone of public education, and overhauled the university system by replacing the Board of Regents with separate boards of trustees.

Bush and Thrasher, rubbing elbows in Orlando, sketched out the higher-ed revolution on a cocktail napkin.

“A Sharpie and a napkin was all it took,” Bush said. “John did the rest.”

Those trustee boards have evolved into political fiefdoms that allowed DeSantis to turn Florida’s campuses into anti-woke battlegrounds.

Thrasher became a powerful lobbyist and a Bush-appointed trustee at his alma mater, where he helped to secure $51 million to start FSU’s medical school.

To lobby for approval of that money, Bush said, Thrasher showed up dressed in a white lab coat, carrying a stethoscope.

“He announced that he was there to make sure I had a heart,” Bush said, as the crowd roared.

In Bush’s telling, Thrasher, a master of the legislative process, also reminded Bush to respect the the Legislature, however imperfect, as a co-equal branch of government — another fundamental principle that has been totally lost.

“Respect the legislative process,” Bush recalled Thrasher saying. “Have patience to let it work and I’ll do the rest. But I did lay out a policy agenda that thankfully John embraced.”

Bush recalled that after the Seminoles won the 1999 college football title, Thrasher invited him to join a celebratory parade. On a chilly January morning in the capital city, Bush cluelessly showed up wearing a sweater in bright Gator blue.

“I know. Pretty stupid,” Bush said. But Thrasher guided him to a locker room full of much more appropriate garnet-and-gold clothing.

In his talk, Bush spoke of Florida’s success, then and now, yet never once mentioned the name of the current occupant of the governor’s office. He praised Thrasher for his lack of ego.

“He always deflected praise and shared the credit for success,” Bush said. “He was a giver, not a taker … He was tough, but always kind-hearted.”

As he ended his eulogy, Bush’s voice broke slightly. “I love you, my friend,” he said.

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