Princess Izzy and the E Street Shuffle
Page 22
Dear Milo, when I began writing this book, I told myself that it was the best story I knew, and thus I needed to write it down. I thought it would make a little money, and I hoped it would make Frederick proud. But as I wrote, I realized that I was also settling some old scores. Isabella and Raphael bought my silence over the years, in various ways and at various prices. They gave my husband a job. They gave his death a “purpose.” They gave me a baby. I always accepted the deal. But after all this time, it felt good, I confess now, to say to myself, “Actually, I think I’m going to talk.”
They would be at my mercy for a change.
It did not take long to see that my actual purpose was, surprisingly, more noble than that. My true motivation was, it turns out, the only legitimate motivation. And it is you, Milo. You should know everything. Take this book and do with it what you will. Do you want to be queen? Then take the DNA test, ship this book to Frederick, and start working on your posture. (You’re not a kid anymore, and the crown is heavy—in more ways than one.)
If you are happy with the life you have, then hide this away, save it for your son, and give it to him when you think the time is right. Let him decide if he wants to rule.
I know you the way only a mother knows a child, but I’m not sure what you will decide. Such an agonizing choice for my little girl. I am sorry that I can’t make it for you, and yet so glad that it is not mine to make.
In the beginning, I observed that a woman of Isabella’s generation, raised in the time that she was raised, could not walk away from an invitation to be queen. A generation later, the question is: Can a woman now?
About the Author
Despite fifteen years as a serious journalist, mostly at The Courier-Journal (Louisville, Kentucky), and despite a long-standing attempt to pass myself off as an informed citizen, my bookshelves sag with royal biographies. Not those ponderous, important ones about historically significant world leaders. No, no. I prefer the ones that go on and on about the beauty regimens, parenting styles, and in-law battles of people with no actual power—especially a certain ill-fated (but always well-dressed) British princess.
My secret desire was to write such a royal biography, a book that would explain how the mood of a nation, an era, a planet can turn on something as simple as the dietary practices of a young lady who marries “well.”
But living in Louisville, I could hardly scare up a suitable princess to share my daily tea, much less one who would choose me as her confidante. So I did the only sensible thing a frustrated royal biographer could do: I made it all up.
I am delighted to say that my make-believe princess loves Bruce Springsteen as much as I do and shares my fondness for lunching with friends and hanging out at the horse track. I did, however, marry better than she did. (My heir, by the way, occasionally humors me with pretend tea parties, but only if I promise to discuss Sesame Street characters and types of construction equipment.)
For more information about my teatime habits (and Princess Izzy), please go to www.beverlybartlett.com.
5 Spot Send Off
Beverly Bartlett’s Top Five Favorite Bruce Springsteen Songs
* “Thunder Road”
* “Land of Hope and Dreams”
* “If I Should Fall Behind”
* “Badlands”
* “Highway 29”