Met her once

I recently attended her father's ribbon-cutting ceremony. She was there, entertaining the press. I could tell she was buckling under the strain and wouldn't be able to handle much more. The press smelled blood in the water and went in for the kill.

"How do you respond to charges of hypocrisy?" asked one overzealous reporter. "When will you release your medical records?" asked another.

Deftly, I took control. Firmly blacking the eye of one, I told the other reporters there was more of that in store for the rest of them, and that if they knew what was good for them, they'd rush back to their little offices and pretend the whole thing never happened. Incidentally, this juicy little story never did make it into the papers.

As for Ivana, I took off my sports coat and draped it over her shoulders. We then walked back to the press conference, in time for her father's triumphant finale. Ivana rose to give her father a standing ovation, but I knew in her heart and in her mind, I was her real father figure.