The Ambassador's Daughter

The Ambassador’s Daughter

My mother, after 2 weeks of cajoling on our part, has decided to move in and live with my wife and I.  After a celebration dinner with one of her favorite meals – eggplant parmesan – my mother tells me this story:

As you know I came to America with the Ambassador and his family to be their daughter’s nanny.  Annabelle initially loved me, but became more spiteful towards me as my 3 years of obligated service continued.  I was able to leave them after my contract was up and moved out on my own.  I had only intermittent contact with them initially and lost contact with them completely after several years.

Imagine my surprise when Annabelle contacted me and wanted to visit me years later.  You had just left for Philadelphia to attend college and weren’t home.  It must have been in 1970 or 71.  She knocked on the door and I could barely recognize this girl.  She must have been in her mid-twenties then.  Thin, dressed in old jeans and a torn t-shirt, I could smell her lack of bathing.  Her hair was greasy and had forgotten the stroke of a brush.  Her companion was an American boy, also similarly clad and disheveled.

We sat down at the kitchen table.  I tried to make small talk with her but she was loud and often didn’t make much sense to me.  “I don’t care about money – that’s all my father and mother thinks about.  I just want to have fun.”  I learned that she lived with several friends in a small apartment near the Village.  “Are you married?” I inquired.  “No, marriage is for old people.  I’m with my friends”.  I learned that she was sleeping with not only her companion but apparently a number of other boys as well.

The visit last less than 20 minutes when she claimed to she had to leave.  I was happy to have her leave the house but not happy to see her the way she was.  “She’s a hippie!” I muttered to myself.

About 5 years later I ran into the Ambassador and his wife in Manhattan.  They inquired about my life and I told them about you – about attending medical school and becoming a doctor.  I could see the surprise and envy in their eyes.  “Annabelle never even finished high school,” they admitted. 

That night, I told your father about my encounter.  “Life is full of steps,” he mused.  “The rich often tumble down and the poor often pull themselves up.  This is the essence of America.”