And untold for good reason, if this tedious, adulatory rendering by the subject's daughter is all there is to tell. During Watergate, rumor had it that Pat Nixon and Henry K. were running the country while Dick drank and prayed. Maybe not, but it's difficult to believe that Pat Nixon has spent her life as a Barbie Doll accessory to Dick--the unintentional message delivered in this rambling testament. And even if that were true, it takes a real mistress of the inane, given that Pat's life-partner remains one of the most fascinating political animals of modern history, to serve up this boring, platitudinous gruel. Pat's dutiful daughter does try to spice up matters by placing her mom's story in a fairy-tale framework (from miner's shack to White House), but what is sorely lacking is any insight into the occasional glimpses offered of the strong woman who became First Lady. Here we have an obvious powerhouse treated as a mediocrity, as a fluttering mass of emotional response. And Eisenhower's fuzzy portrait of Pat floats in a sea of apologies for her father, clarifying a probable major reason for this book: the continuing public rehabilitation of Dick. The only real excitement the author generates is when she tackles Watergate, wagging her finger at Dick Nixon's aides, the press, the Congress, and, by implication, the entire country. A 450-page Mother's Day card.