On the wishes of my wife, Mary Todd, and the nagging of my son, Tad, I reluctantly auditioned for American Idol a few years ago. Although I do not believe I am that great of a singer, it has been a tradition for me to sing after every dinner by the fireplace as we wait for it to be too dark for it to be sensible to stay up any longer in our log cabin. So about 8 p.m.
Waiting in line for the audition was one of my worst memories. Far worse than that one time with Stonewall Jackson.* Besides the long waiting time, it was just so awkward as I sure did not want to be seen there. And unfortunately, with my long legs and gaping hole in my head, I am not one to blend in. Continue reading