The words "President of the United States" never slipped passed my lips. And neither did the words, "daughter of the President of the United States." Of course my dad being in the Air Force with no aspirations at political office helped color my response. My mom never wanted to go into politics either. But I wonder how hard that life is, being under constant scrutiny as Chelsea Clinton has been since her father was President and then her mother went on to the Senate, a run at the White House, and now Secretary of State. What about this weekend and the wedding? I have to admire Bill and Hillary for trying to make it as "normal" as possible for her. And to those out there bemoaning the money spent on the wedding...get a life! It's their only daughter and they have the money. I say let her have the wedding she wants and to hell with what anyone else thinks.
Phyllis has been so cute all weekend, though, trying to find anything and everything she can on the wedding coverage. I had to tease her a little.
But back to the original question..."what do you want to be when you grow up?" My stock answer for much of my youth until I reached high school was "an artist." Now, I can't remember the last time I picked up a pencil or a piece of charcoal to sketch anything. Which is a shame. I used to get so caught up in my drawings, holing myself up in my room for hours on end, bent over my work until my neck and shoulders screamed at me to stop. Then life began to speed by and instead, I returned to writing. Don't get me wrong, I'd always enjoyed it and had since grade school. I became more serious about writing in high school and later in college. I now find that I hole myself up in my room for another kind of art, one I enjoy once I get swept up in a story and allow the characters to spirit me away into their lives, whispering in my ear as to what happens next.
It's still an art, yes. But that yearning returns sometimes to pick up that pencil or piece of charcoal and lose myself into a world of lines, shades, and shadows. One of these days I'll listen again to that muse when she taps on my shoulder.
She's waiting....
