Delectations: At Home with Mrs. Reagan

A short time ago, Mrs. Reagan granted me an interview for “Delectations.” The date coincided with my thirtieth wedding anniversary, so it was a memorable day all around.

A car sent by Sheila Tate, Mrs. Reagan’s press secretary and an attractive and simpática young woman, took me at midmorning from my hotel to the White House. At the gate, the driver gave my name to the guard, who gave me a badge, and in we went through the lovely manicured gardens that surround the official residence. I was shown to a room on the ground floor where FDR kept his maps and which looks like the well-cared-for drawing room of an established Boston or Philadelphia family. There was a large painting of a river scene on a wall (Hudson River school?) and three bouquets of white flowers on occasional tables that lit up the room. Mrs. Tate and her assistant, Barbara Cook, make me comfortable in an armchair heightened by a cushion from the red damask sofa on which Mrs. Reagan would sit, as my arthritic back makes it hard for me to sit in or get up from a low chair. I had told Mrs. Tate earlier that I would not have any set questions, nor use a tape recorder or notebook. (In case you’re wondering how I remembered the interview, I wrote it all down immediately after I got back to my hotel.)

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Nika Hazelton

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A short time ago, Mrs. Reagan granted me an interview for “Delectations.” The date coincided with my thirtieth wedding anniversary, so it was a memorable day all around.

A car sent by Sheila Tate, Mrs. Reagan’s press secretary and an attractive and simpática young woman, took me at midmorning from my hotel to the White House. At the gate, the driver gave my name to the guard, who gave me a badge, and in we went through the lovely manicured gardens that surround the official residence. I was shown to a room on the ground floor where FDR kept his maps and which looks like the well-cared-for drawing room of an established Boston or Philadelphia family. There was a large painting of a river scene on a wall (Hudson River school?) and three bouquets of white flowers on occasional tables that lit up the room. Mrs. Tate and her assistant, Barbara Cook, make me comfortable in an armchair heightened by a cushion from the red damask sofa on which Mrs. Reagan would sit, as my arthritic back makes it hard for me to sit in or get up from a low chair. I had told Mrs. Tate earlier that I would not have any set questions, nor use a tape recorder or notebook. (In case you’re wondering how I remembered the interview, I wrote it all down immediately after I got back to my hotel.)