Sandy Wernick

It’s hard to believe Sandy is really gone. March 8th felt…wrong, like a page had been ripped out of a really beautiful, chaotic story. Sandy Wernick, born January 1st, 1940, passed away peacefully on March 5th, 2026, leaving behind a world a little dimmer, a little quieter, and undeniably less funny. I met Sandy back in the early 90s, a wide-eyed intern desperately trying to get coffee for everyone in the production offices. She immediately took a shine to me, mostly because I spilled coffee on her favorite blazer – she just laughed and said, “Don’t worry, darling, it adds character.” That was Sandy in a nutshell: unflappable, quick-witted, and always ready with a mischievous grin. She built an incredible career, producing some of the most iconic and hilarious shows and films of our time – *ALF*, *Happy Gilmore*, *Def Comedy Jam*… the list goes on. But for Sandy, it wasn’t about the awards or the recognition. It was about the people, the stories, and the sheer joy of bringing something new and funny into the world. I remember one time, during the *ALF* shoot, she spent an entire afternoon trying to teach ALF to play the harmonica – a truly epic, and ultimately unsuccessful, endeavor. She just kept saying, “He’s got the spirit, he just needs a little… coaxing.” That’s how she approached everything – with boundless enthusiasm and a genuine belief in the potential of everyone around her. Sandy was the heart of our family. She adored her husband, David, and their children, Michael and Sarah, and she was the most wonderfully supportive and loving grandmother to her five grandchildren. She had this incredible ability to make everyone feel seen and valued, to listen without judgment, and to offer a perfectly timed, often brutally honest, piece of advice. She was a collector of stray animals, a passionate reader, and a surprisingly skilled baker – her chocolate chip cookies were legendary. More than anything, Sandy leaves behind a legacy of kindness, creativity, and laughter. She had a way of lighting up a room and making you feel like anything was possible. She taught us to embrace the absurd, to never take ourselves too seriously, and to always, always, find the funny. We’ll miss her terribly, but we’ll carry her spirit with us, one perfectly imperfect, wonderfully funny moment at a time.