Do you sometimes wonder about Chelsea Clinton, hidden from plain view of people like me and people like you?
In a time when privacy seems like an anachronism, the Clintons have kept their daughter's life a state secret. Some would say it has been their greatest achievement. And maybe it is.
We know almost nothing about her. We do know where she goes to school. Occasionally, you hear about one parent stopping by for a field hockey game or another for a school play. But you don't hear much.
I saw a picture in the paper the other day of the president and Chelsea at a basketball game. Although at first glance the picture was unremarkable, it was actually almost stunning.
Think of the last time you saw her.
You probably can't. And that's good. It's the lesson of Amy Carter and nuclear throw weights. No one does Chelsea jokes.
But no matter how carefully she's hidden, she still exists. Chelsea is a teen-ager now. Meaning she understands too well when she hears about Paula Jones. And when people go on national TV to call her mother names.
I wonder about her.
I wonder how she'll cope.
There's a new book out about her father. Even though it's a serious book, the headline is, of course, about sex. What else -- his Bosnia policy?
In a revealing episode, Bill Clinton is deciding whether or not to run for president. It's 1987. The place is Little Rock. Surprisingly, he is ambivalent.
According to the book, Clinton is discussing the issue with Betsey Wright, then his chief of staff. She asks him, in the wake of Gary Hart's withdrawal from the race, about the potential of what would later be called bimbo explosions.
After the conversation, Wright advises Clinton not to run, out of deference to his wife, to his daughter and, I'm guessing, to certain Arkansas state troopers.
That's the headline from "First in His Class," a Clinton biography by Washington Post reporter David Maraniss. But it's not the really good stuff.
After reading excerpts from the book, you find the story behind the headline is even more revealing. It's the one about Bill Clinton, the father.
We know all about Bill Clinton, the son. He didn't have what you'd call great luck with fathers. His father died before he was born. Then there's the now-famous episode in which a teen-aged Clinton confronts the alcoholic adoptive father.
Often, Clinton has said he wants to be a better father to his daughter. Go back to 1987. Clearly, he was trying.
It's the day after his meeting with Wright. Carl Wagner, an old friend, has come to Little Rock to help Clinton make his decision.
"So what's the bottom line?" Clinton asks him.
"I tell you what," Wagner responds. "When you reach the top of the steps, walk into your daughter's bedroom, look at her and understand that if you do this, your relationship with her will never be the same. I'm not sure if it will be worse or better, but it will never be the same."
The next day, Chelsea, then 7, asks her dad what they're going to do for vacation that summer. When he says he might be to busy to vacation because he'll be running for president, she says, "Well, then Mom and I will go without you."
This comes from Mickey Kantor, who says that at that point he knew Clinton wouldn't run.
When explaining his last-minute decision to stay out of the race, Clinton didn't talk about bimbo explosions. He did talk about his daughter, though, and the rigors of a presidential race.
"I've seen a lot of kids grow up under these pressures and a long, long time ago I made a promise to myself that if I was ever lucky enough to have a child, she would never grow up wondering who her father was," Clinton said.
Four years later, of course, he ran for president anyway -- and when Chelsea was old enough to be hurt far worse by the "rigors." Often good intentions lose out to ambition.
And, since that time, Chelsea has had to endure endless angry attacks against her parents. The stuff about Hillary may be easy enough to write off. But how do you help a child through the stories, true or not, of a father and hotel rooms and state troopers?
Clearly, the Clintons have taken extraordinary measures to protect Chelsea. You worry, though, that they can never protect her enough.