Some years ago, a favorite niece, then about 5, came with her family from Myrtle Beach, S.C., to attend a family wedding
Little Liza had a ball, attending numerous wedding festivities and actually participating as a member of the wedding. So it was normal that she resisted getting into the car and returning home.
“But honey,” her mother explained, “you’ve had a wonderful time. Now you have to go back to the real world.”
As the car left our driveway, little Liza lay on the car’s back seat, kicking her legs in the air and wailing loudly, “I don’t wanna go back to the real world! I don’t wanna go back to the real world!”
How many of us, at the conclusion of some high moments of happiness, have not felt the same reluctance to returning to the real world, to normal routines, to seemingly uneventful passage of our days?
The above incident came to mind as I found myself wondering what life might be like for former President Barack Obama and his family, who recently returned to “the real world.”
Imagine this scenario:
It’s 7 a.m. and the telephone rings in the den of the slumbering Obama household. Michelle gets up and answers it.
Returning to the bedroom, she says, “It’s for you, Barack. Some guy from the New York Times.”
“Tell him to go away,” the former president murmurs drowsily. Michelle delivers the message, but returns to the bedroom.
“He wants to talk to you about North Korea’s launching that ballistic missile. He wants your opinion on how the U.S. should respond.”
“I don’t have an opinion,” her husband replies. “If he wants opinions, let him ask the Donald for his opinion. He’s in charge of opinions now and doesn’t suffer from lack thereof.”
Michelle returns to the den phone and disposes of the reporter.
Returning to the bedroom, she says, “You might as well get up. What are you going to do today anyway?”
“As little as possible,” her husband says. “My life hasn’t been my own for the past eight years. I may mow the lawn. I may call Joe Biden for a round of golf. Or I may just sit on the front porch and contemplate my navel.”