It’s time to retire the tired catchphrase in favor of long-term education for both kids and their parents.
I first met Nancy Reagan — who died on March 6 at 94 of congestive heart failure — during the 1989 American Booksellers Association Convention in Washington, D.C. The event was a June 5 by-invitation-only reception for her autobiographical memoir “My Turn: The Memoirs of Nancy Reagan” with William Novak, held at the Library of Congress’ mezzanine hosted by then Random House’s Publisher Joni Evans. Hundreds tried to crash the event just to get a glimpse of the former First Lady who stood for more than an hour in unbearable un-air-conditioned humid heat smiling, smiling, smiling as a phalanx of Secret Service men glowered at the seemingly endless line of gawkers and hopeful hand-shakers.
Nancy Reagan passed away this Sunday at the age of 94. Her Jewish ghost writer remembers her fondly.