Nancy Reagan

We all are self-absorbed, even narcissistic. Whenever anybody dies whom we know or have heard of, we think about how that death affects us. Funerals, of course, are at least as much for the living as they are for the departed.

In that tradition, I relate the following . . .

Getting my Mustang ready for a run to the nearby McDonald's for my morning iced coffee, I heard that Nancy Reagan had died at age 94. It proved more of a shock than I would have expected. I have never made secret my admiration and appreciation for Ronald Reagan, the man who saved the Free World in spite of itself, but had never given too much thought to his wife, Nancy Davis Reagan, or so I thought. It, however, turns out, judging from the sadness and sense of loss I felt on hearing the news of her passing, that I had.

Nancy Reagan was a patriot, a great FLOTUS, and a person of consequence.

She had a major, some say critical, part in getting her husband to run for President, especially after his loss in 1976 to Gerald Ford, and in helping him drive the stake into the heart of the Soviet beast. She played the role of First Lady with intelligence, grace, wit, charm, and a steely resolve--nobody better mess with her hubby. She seemed both regal and one of us: not easy to do. She understood the age of modern media perhaps better than anybody in the White House before or since, and knew how to stage her appearances for maximum effect. It was a masterful performance. We will all miss her.

All this leads, of course, to some more narcissistic reflexion.

I worked for Ronald Reagan's daughter, the late Maureen Reagan, for a couple of years and developed a close although at times testy relationship with her. I met her when I served at the US Misison to the UN, and she became US Representative to the UN Commission on the Status of Women (CSW). I got to travel all over the world with her, wrote dozens of speeches for her, and helped her negotiate many, many resolutions. It was a lot of work, and a lot of fun.

One fine day, now some 30 years ago, Maureen who was in DC called me in New York to get some information for her. I can't remember exactly what it was, but it involved calling some foreign diplomats, getting their views on a burning issue of the day, coordinating speeches with the UK Mission, and coming up with a suggested plan of action for the CSW meeting the following week in Vienna. She asked me to call her back with an unclassified version of the conversations, and gave me a private number to a direct line to the family quarters at the White House. She told me to phone at 8 pm.

At 8, on the nose, I called. She answered; I launched into a rapid fire account of my activities, "OK, this is what I found out . . . for our meeting in Vienna we need to be ready for this and that . . .." I went on for a bit and then noticed an unusual silence on the other end of the line. Maureen usually would chime in and interrupt with comments and questions. A very calm voice said, "I gather you want to speak to Maureen Reagan? This is Nancy Reagan."

The floor dropped out from beneath my young bureaucratic feet. I had visions of opening US Consulate Yakutsk.

Maureen took the phone and started our conversation anew. I, however, kept apologizing for having disturbed her step-mom.

An exasperated Maureen finally said, "Lewis! Just forget it! OK?"

But, I never did.

Nancy Reagan, thanks for everything. You had a good run. RIP.