"This is a once in a lifetime moment. A room crammed full, and everyone likes me," I laughed before the crowd assembled in Washington for my swearing-in as ambassador to Austria. It was November 1993. A squirmy gaggle of children holding small American and Austrian flags sat cross-legged on a muted rose carpet around a stage. This family-oriented affair was a first for the U.S. State Department, which fancied itself more formally predisposed.

As my eyes scanned the room, I surveyed the characters in the pageant of my life: Aunts and uncles from Oklahoma and Louisiana. A Sunday school teacher at First Baptist Church of Dallas and employees of Hunt Oil Company. My pastor from Fort Worth, friends from the church in Heidelberg, and the rabbi I'd met when I was a seminary student in Denver. Caretakers from our ranch in Colorado, along with grown-up girlfriends who'd rafted the Grand Canyon rapids with me. Board members from the Women's Foundation and Hunt Alternatives Fund, next to members of Congress and the President's cabinet. My sisters, Helen and June. Grade school, high school, and college buddies-they'd aged, even if I hadn't.

I pushed back tears as I shifted my gaze to our three children. They'd reaped some benefits but also borne the burden of my achievement. That wasn't fair, but then what is?