My bruised feelings notwithstanding, I suppose the Post reporter did us a favor. In just a few sentences she summed up my mother's life in a way that made the paper. And yet burying my mother's real identity for the sake of a few inches of type, continued to gnaw at me.
A well-placed brooch became not only Ms. Albright's fashion signature, but a silent signal to her host about what she expected from their meeting. "Read My Pins: The Madeline Albright Collection" is on view at the Denver Art Museum.
I love the image of conservatives hiding behind the flag of motherhood to protect themselves against charges of gender insensitivity. It's like kids who move the couch to cover up a stain and hope no one will notice.