with him.
The truth is, when I was with him I always felt like I was flying. He was dashing, smart, and exciting, and listening to him talk was like reading an encyclopedia. He seemed to know everything about history, business, and the world in general. I was only seventeen, so I thought seventy-three was beyond ancient, but my father didn’t seem old to me. Not only did he look much younger with his thick hair, smooth face, and strong physique, but his commanding energy was like a force of nature. Every time he entered a room, he seemed to change the very molecules in the air, and people wanted to get his attention. When he spoke to someone, he had a way of making them feel important, like they were the only one in the room. I loved the feeling of standing next to someone so magnetic, and thought he was the most exciting person I had ever met.
But living with my real-life Daddy Warbucks had its challenges, too. He was demanding and expected order and timeliness. He loved to tell me, “You can avoid almost any problem in life if you are on time and take care of your own equipment.”—a rule he learned in the military.
I tried to keep up with the drills, but my habit of being late to everything was hard to break, and I was often running one step behind his warp speed.
He would often poke his head in my room with a hurried, “Are you ready, yet?”
“Almost,” I would say, peeking my head out, trying to shield him from my messy equipment that included hair dryers, brushes, and make-up that littered my once-proper bathroom.
“Do you really need all that to get ready?” he would ask in disbelief, clearly new to the requirements of a teenage girl.
And I was new on the job of being a Governor’s daughter, so sometimes I failed to get the orders right, like when my alarm didn’t work and I awoke to the sounds of that helicopter outside.
Crap, he’s going to kill me.
I raced around my room throwing on the same navy suit that had become my uniform for political events. I ran out to the chopper a bit disheveled and hoped he wouldn’t notice. As I raced down the acres of lawn, I could see my father and the pilot waving their arms asking me to duck as I got closer to the chopper. I leaped in, and we were off to a long list of events.
I was learning my father was big on appearance, so I squirmed a bit when he looked at me strangely over his newspaper while sipping his coffee.
His eyes fixated on my wild bed-head. “Aren’t you going to brush your hair?” Think fast, Kara. “Of course,” trying to sound like I had it all figured out, “I just thought I’d wait until we were inside and away from the wind.”
His arched eyebrow and slow smile let me know he knew good and well that I’d overslept. “Okay, whatever you say, dear.”
Oops. Dad: 1, Kara: 0.
Just like he was changing my life, I was altering his. He was used to getting what he wanted with a snap of his finger, but I was not so snappy. He had brought home his new baby and was quickly figuring out his way of life wasn’t going to work. And I was figuring out that giving him a big grin could ignite his patience.
Hair crisis averted!
As we flew over Rhode Island, it seemed like we were on top of the world, and he switched into paternal mode pointing out all the sites below and their history. I loved listening to his stories. The history lesson ended when the helicopter landed, and we switched into “there’s lots of work to be done” mode.
After a crazy day of handshakes and photo ops, both my father and I were shaking in a different way. Just like me, he could get really crabby when he was hungry and needed some fuel.
“I’m starving, let’s go get some dinner and ice cream. I know the perfect place.”
“Great!” I was dying for food, too, and couldn’t help but wonder if my blood sugar crashes came from him.
He took me to the Newport Creamery where we feasted on hamburgers and fries, knowing that the best part was coming…dessert.
The truth is, when I was with him I always felt like I was flying. He was dashing, smart, and exciting, and listening to him talk was like reading an encyclopedia. He seemed to know everything about history, business, and the world in general. I was only seventeen, so I thought seventy-three was beyond ancient, but my father didn’t seem old to me. Not only did he look much younger with his thick hair, smooth face, and strong physique, but his commanding energy was like a force of nature. Every time he entered a room, he seemed to change the very molecules in the air, and people wanted to get his attention. When he spoke to someone, he had a way of making them feel important, like they were the only one in the room. I loved the feeling of standing next to someone so magnetic, and thought he was the most exciting person I had ever met.
But living with my real-life Daddy Warbucks had its challenges, too. He was demanding and expected order and timeliness. He loved to tell me, “You can avoid almost any problem in life if you are on time and take care of your own equipment.”—a rule he learned in the military.
I tried to keep up with the drills, but my habit of being late to everything was hard to break, and I was often running one step behind his warp speed.
He would often poke his head in my room with a hurried, “Are you ready, yet?”
“Almost,” I would say, peeking my head out, trying to shield him from my messy equipment that included hair dryers, brushes, and make-up that littered my once-proper bathroom.
“Do you really need all that to get ready?” he would ask in disbelief, clearly new to the requirements of a teenage girl.
And I was new on the job of being a Governor’s daughter, so sometimes I failed to get the orders right, like when my alarm didn’t work and I awoke to the sounds of that helicopter outside.
Crap, he’s going to kill me.
I raced around my room throwing on the same navy suit that had become my uniform for political events. I ran out to the chopper a bit disheveled and hoped he wouldn’t notice. As I raced down the acres of lawn, I could see my father and the pilot waving their arms asking me to duck as I got closer to the chopper. I leaped in, and we were off to a long list of events.
I was learning my father was big on appearance, so I squirmed a bit when he looked at me strangely over his newspaper while sipping his coffee.
His eyes fixated on my wild bed-head. “Aren’t you going to brush your hair?” Think fast, Kara. “Of course,” trying to sound like I had it all figured out, “I just thought I’d wait until we were inside and away from the wind.”
His arched eyebrow and slow smile let me know he knew good and well that I’d overslept. “Okay, whatever you say, dear.”
Oops. Dad: 1, Kara: 0.
Just like he was changing my life, I was altering his. He was used to getting what he wanted with a snap of his finger, but I was not so snappy. He had brought home his new baby and was quickly figuring out his way of life wasn’t going to work. And I was figuring out that giving him a big grin could ignite his patience.
Hair crisis averted!
As we flew over Rhode Island, it seemed like we were on top of the world, and he switched into paternal mode pointing out all the sites below and their history. I loved listening to his stories. The history lesson ended when the helicopter landed, and we switched into “there’s lots of work to be done” mode.
After a crazy day of handshakes and photo ops, both my father and I were shaking in a different way. Just like me, he could get really crabby when he was hungry and needed some fuel.
“I’m starving, let’s go get some dinner and ice cream. I know the perfect place.”
“Great!” I was dying for food, too, and couldn’t help but wonder if my blood sugar crashes came from him.
He took me to the Newport Creamery where we feasted on hamburgers and fries, knowing that the best part was coming…dessert.
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