by Robin Munson
Long, long ago in the faraway kingdom of Pittsburgh three little princesses were groomed for “The Business”. The King and Queen — my parents — were frustrated singers and songwriters. We were schlepped from voice teachers to dance teachers to piano teachers and acting teachers. We made command performances in our living room on a regular basis, singing standards from the American songbook — Rogers and Hart, Gershwin, Cole Porter, Lerner and Lowe. . . (NOTE: It’s impossible for me to say whether I would have wanted a life in The Business with different parents, but that’s a topic for another day.)
At 3, I dreamed of one day being a ballerina. But not all little girls have the requisite long legs and athletic coordination for the Ballet Russe, so by the time I was ten years old, it was pretty clear that wasn’t going to happen.
