Watching the Cradle

IT WAS THE day before Thanksgiving. We'd all had a hard week--maybe the hardest in the last six years. What a crisis for the Presidency, for the people...for our nation. I was tired. A four-day weekend loomed ahead: where better to spend it than in Santa Barbara, by my President's side?

Service to my President has always topped my list of civic imperatives. Sure, helping poor people is nice, but there aren't any in Santa Barbara anyway. And the war on drugs is important, but it isn't really a campus issue. The only place to be during this time of trial was standing by my President. "Don't worry, Mr. Reagan," I muttered as I hopped the first flight out of Logan, "I'll be there before the Democratic vultures descend."

As soon as I arrived at LAX, I phoned my great-uncle in Pasadena. "Uncle!" I cried. "In this time of national emergency, with the specter of another failed Presidency on the horizon, can I count on you to do your part as an American citizen?"

"What, what?" said my great-uncle, who is not young. "National emergency? Did the Lakers lose again?"

"Uncle!" I thundered. "Take me to my President. I must be in Santa Barbara by high noon!"

We zoomed down the Ventura Freeway and beat Air Force One by an hour. I gathered my family by the fireside.

"Mother, father," I said. "We have an awesome responsibility. The once-proud leader of the greatest nation in the free world will be here soon, in our care for four days. Has he not had enough woes? First, the perverse American people voted in a Democratic Senate. Then, those tricky Russians refused to back down on SDI. Now, some little pipsqueak in the NSC has singlehandedly threatened his Presidency with some Watergate-like scandal, completely without his knowledge.

"It is our duty to shelter President Reagan from ever learning anything about this corrupt arms deal. He is our President-he must be protected! Don Reagan did his best; now it's our baby."

It wasn't an easy job, but the weather was good. Sis and I positioned ourselves outside the ranch in the morning to grab the papers as soon as they were delivered. Dad went up the satellite tower at UCSB with a radio transmitter to scatter the airwaves so no news broadcasts could make it over there. And Mom cruised the hills in a jeep in case that rascal Col. North were trying to sneak in to brief the President. The important thing was that President Reagan not hear anything about this nasty Iran-Nicaragua business.

ON THANKSGIVING Day, the family took turns leaving our posts for the beach barbecue. But the news looked good. The President was innocent. Even Bush was "stunned." Reagan was briefed but he wasn't listening. They tried to stop him, but that despicable North character shredded his documents. I guess that means no higher-ups were implicated.

And Reagan still doesn't know. From the sounds coming out of the ranch, he slept through the whole thing. We did our job. I got a tan, got a little reading done, and, well, served my President and my country. We can all feel a little more secure--the President is napping.