Who Was Ronald Reagan?

Who Was Ronald Reagan?

Book - 2005
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From his childhood in rural Illinois to moviemaking days in Hollywood and on to a career in politics that took him all the way to the Oval Office, Ronald Reagan kept an abiding faith in America and in what our country stood for. The oldest president ever, he survived a near-fatal assassination attempt and lived to be 93. Who Was Ronald Reagan? covers his life and times in a balanced, entertaining way for children. More than 100 black-and-white illustrations fill out the portrait of our fortieth president.
Publisher: New York : Grosset & Dunlap, c2005
ISBN: 9780448433448
0448433443 (pbk.)
0448433451 (hardcover)
Branch Call Number: JB REAGAN
Characteristics: 106 p. : ill., maps ; 20 cm
Additional Contributors: Wolf, Elizabeth 1954-

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It was early in the summer of 1971. I had a Schwinn Stingray bike with a banana seat. It was gold -painted. I bicycled down to El Camino Real, where the side street was opposite St. Matthews Church and School, on the west side. It was about 11am, but the sun had been out early, so my legs were quite tanned below my cutoff jeans. At first i looked across the busy boulevard, trying to guage my ability to race across it safely. Then my attention was drawn to a brown-haired middle-aged white man standing at a podium next to a statue i'd never seen there before. As i regarded him, he moved his head awkwardly from side to side, as if he were a horse, bridling. He looked to his side, at me. I was at least forty feet away. He had lost his place in his speech. The moment passed. I raced across El Camino Real to Central Park and i had a great, sunny day, there. I was good looking when i was young. I had freckles and blonde -brown, rather long hair. I want you to know he didn't only do that awkward yet idiosyncratic movement with his neck and head, after he had gotten old. in 1971 he wasn't old yet. i wasn't particularly politically conscious. that is, i didn't say to myself, wow, i just saw the governor of California! i was just being me, alone on an outing on a nice peninsula day . the only politician i knew of was a dead man: RFK, who my mother had cried so profusely about, on top of her big white stove, crying into wet, dripping dishrag, as, 500 miles south of where we were, Bobby fought his hopeless fight for life.

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