The Cost
My linebrother equates it to being in the military. No, I don't jump out of helicopters and parachute onto a mountaintop. I don't have to shave my head and be yellled at by a drill seargant. I am not charged with protecting the freedoms of others back home. But I do get drafted. I do understand intense physical training every day to be able to do my job at the highest level. I know what it's like to sometimes have to sleep in a stuffy top bunk bed on a rocky ship. I sympathize with what it's like to have to put on a uniform and have your living quarters inspected for approval by a 3-Stripe Officer. I do understand counting the days until you rotate back to the States to see your family. This peculiar life I have chosen for myself as a working performing artist has a cost that most people don't see. A cost that sometimes takes its toll on us. In the past 8 years, I have been able to work and support myself full time as a singer and dancer. I have worked on cruis
