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Weeks ago,the world remembered Ronald Reagan as the president who restored America's faith in itself.But for a small group of Westside mothers and nannies who took their children to local parks,there was a different Ronald Reagan to remember:the one who came into our lives when his public life ended and gave us the chance for a special relationship.
We first saw Reagan at Roxbury Park in Beverly Hills in the mid-'90s.He was working back then at his Century City office,and he often walked through the nearby park around lunchtime when it was crawling with kids and nannies and moms.Surrounded by his Secret Service detail,wearing a jacket,he still seemed presidential.He would shake hands and say hello to anyone who came near.I have a friend who,with her father,followed him for several laps around the park's path,just because "I felt honored to be in his presence,even though I didn't agree with his politics'she said last week.
Soon,we didn't see him on the path anymore.Instead,he sat on the bench at the edge of the play area and watched our children.And that's when we got to know the Ronald Reagan he had become.His hair was gray now.He had traded in his office clothes for a grandfatherly sweater,polo shirt,and a baseball cap-all of which somehow looked too large.Although the Secret Service surely was there,it was usually only his nurse we saw.She would sit beside him as our children,oblivious to who he was,ran screaming by,flinging drips of popsicles in his direction.We never tried to stop them.We could tell by the way he smiled as they scrambled by that he didn't want us to.When you live on the west side,you become accustomed to celebrities; the Annette Benings and Jodie Fosters of the world all showed up at the park.We would stare when they weren't looking and dissect their every detail,like those designer diaper bags.When they were looking,we'd act as it they didn't exist.
Not so with President Reagan.Every parent,every immigrant nanny,every jogger came by to tell him what his time in the White House had meant to them.The Latino nannies,many in the country illegally,were particularly fond of him.My own baby-sitter,who moved from Cuatemala and became a U.S.citizen,kept her son home from school and brought him to the park,just on the chance that he would get to meet the former president.And he did.
Reagan didn't speak much to the adults.It was our children he was interested in.Time and again these sticky little specimens encrusted with juice and sand would come up next to him as they made their way to the bags of snacks on the bench.And he would beckon them closer.My daughter,Lena,was just 4 in 1997,the first time she met him.Although I hadn't been a Reagan supporter,I wanted her to meet him,for her to know tha this friendly man had been the president.And he wanted to meet her.He held out his hand to shake hers.She was afraid,but he smiled,kept his hand there,and then said ,"It's nice to meet you,young lady."And it was that voice-the voice that told Mikhail Gorbachev to tear down the wall.It was the most Reagan thing left of Ronald Reagan in those days.He charmed my daughter,and she put out her hand.
Reagan was at Roxbury Park,and another one in nearby Holmby Hills,a lot during 1997 and1998.And though he gradually stopped speaking to us-and our children-we never stopped speaking to him or having the kids play close by where he could watch.Then he went away.I'd heard he was doing poorly and assumed he wouldn't be back.But there was one,last time at Holmby Park.My children were discovering the wonders of sunblock that came out of the bottle purple.They were covered in it.And so was half the sidewalk.As l bent to clean them off,I glanced up,and under the brim of a baseball cap that seemed 10 sizes too big was the former president,on the bench in front of us.He was very gray and very thin.His body looked as if somehow it had lost its purpose.His familiar half smile was gone.The gaze was faraway.
I sensed that the time to speak with him hadpassed.And I remember thinking how sad it was that my daughters were so young that they would probably never remember having met the 40th president.I realized last week,as I reminded them of those days,that not remembering meeting the president was not nearly as sad as not remembering being president.
几周前，当整个世界都在缅怀罗纳德·里根这位重建美国人信念的总统时，对于西区的公园的一群带孩子的妈妈和奶奶辈的人来说，对里根却有着不同的记忆——他是个曾经在远离政治舞台之后走人她们生活的人，是个曾经给了她们难忘的特殊友谊的人。
20世纪90年代中期，我们第一次遇见里根是在Beverly山的Roxbury公园。当时他刚回到世纪城的办公室工作。那些在午饭时间带着孩子的奶奶们和妈妈们经常可以看见他一个人在附近的公园里穿梭。一件夹克，被随从簇拥着，他看上去依然是总统的样子。但是每每有人走近他的时候，他会友好地和你握手打招呼。我的一位朋友告诉我，她曾经和父亲跟随在里根的身后在公园的小道上走了好些圈，她说那是一种简简单单对他能在公园里出现的尊敬，尽管她并不支持里根曾经的政策。
可是没过多久，里根就不在公园的小径上散步了。他总是出现在游戏区边缘的长凳上，注视着我们的孩子。就在那个时候，我们逐渐了解了他的状况。他已经两鬓斑白了。他穿的不是办公制服，而是厚运动衫，polo牌的T恤和棒球帽——看上去都有些大。尽管他依然受着保安部门的保护，可是我们通常看见的只是他的护士。她会坐在他身边，就像我们的孩子一样；她会大喊大叫地跑过来，扔给他一只冰棒，似乎不在意他曾经是什么样的人物。我们从来没有干扰过他们的生活，我们看见他会因为和女护士之间的玩笑而开怀大笑，但那仅仅属于他们之间的生活。事实只要你生活在西区附近，对遇见名流之事就会司空见惯，像安奈特·贝宁斯和朱迪·福斯特都曾经出现在公园里。当他们没有注意到我们的时候，我们会像那些狗仔队一样关注着他们的一举一动，还比如那些菱形花纹的包的式样；但是，一旦他们注意到我们的时候，我们同样会假装忽视他们的存在。
不仅仅是我们跟里根，所有的父母，移民来的保姆，甚至所有的慢跑者都会走进他的身边诉说着他是总统时候他们的生活。那些大多数非法移民过来的拉丁保姆似乎尤其喜欢他。我的那位从危地马拉来的保姆甚至把她的儿子从学校带到公园来，只是为了让他有机会见一见美国的前任总统，而且他确实见到了。
里根很少和大人们谈论，但是他总是乐于和我们的孩子们呆在一起。在他周围，总是有跑着去长凳吃食物的孩子。他们粘粘的，身上粘着果汁和沙土的污渍。里根会友好地招呼他们过来。1997年，我四岁的女儿Lena第一次遇见他。虽然我不是里根的支持者，但是我依旧乐于让我的女儿去见他，告诉她这位友好的老人曾经就是我们国家的总统。里根很喜欢我的孩子，他会伸出手来和她握手。女儿胆子很小，但是他依旧保持着他的笑容，手伸在那边，“你好啊，小姑娘”。就是这个嗓音，就是这个使得米凯尔·戈尔巴乔夫解体了苏联的嗓音，那个里根标志性的嗓音，吸引了我的女儿，最后她伸出了手。
在1997年到1998年的大多数时间，里根都待在Roxbury公园和Holmby山的另一个公园。尽管他渐渐地不再和我们以及我们的孩子交谈，但是我们从来没有停止和他的交流以及让孩子在他他的周围嬉戏。没过多久，他便很少出现了，我听说他的身体状态恶化，我想他再也不会出现在公园里了。但是突然有一天，还是在Holmby公园，我的孩子们发现防晒油从紫色的小瓶子里流了出来，并且滴在了人行道，就在我弯腰去清理防晒油的时候，一次无意的一瞥，让我看见了那不到10码外的棒球帽下的人——我们的前总统，他就在我们面前的那条长凳上。他的头发非常苍白，人也非常瘦弱，他看上去已经奄奄一息。那让每个人熟悉的微笑也不再有，只剩下呆滞的目光。
我知道那些和他交谈的日子已经不在了。我曾经也会感到悲伤，因为我的女儿们还如此的年幼，也许他们永远不会记起曾经和第40任总统见过面的日子，不过上周我开始教育我的孩子，因为我真正意识到，记住一位总统或许比记住曾经和总统的一些见面来的更重要、更有意义吧。
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