Scott is many things. He is a brother, a member of International Rescue, a son, a Nasa expert, son of Jeff Tracy. But sometimes he wishes he could be just Scott.
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I have many faces and I have been many places. That may sound like a start to a horrible rhyme, but it's not. It's the start to my life. The life of Scott Tracy, yes, the ever-popular billionaire, Jeff Tracy's boy. Well I will admit the money is nice, I wish sometimes to be seen for who I am, and not who others see me.
How do others see me?
First and foremost: my brothers. At times I am their brother – the older one, a bit of a stiff-neck and a tattletale. They don't realize that all those years I raised them, threatening to call out to Dad was the only way I could keep them from strangling each other. I'm told they'll thank me some day.
Secondly: My father's staff. They see me as the wealthy son of Jeff Tracy, and that's all they see. It's okay with me for the most part, but I hate the "Mr. Tracy" title; every time I hear that I want to say, Mr. Tracy is my father – except I'm Mr. Tracy, too.
Others see me as the son of Jeff Tracy – but more from a standpoint of a cooing, annoying, "oh, aren't you Jeff Tracy's son," as in the ever-annoying, "oh, how sweet!"
How do others see me? An excellent question, one you can never expect a fully forthcoming and truthful answer on. Well, unless you're asking John.
Some see me as the leader of International Rescue – the one who saved millions of lives and helped to keep the planet together. They see me as the one who saved them from death or their loved one from death. When a mission goes bad, though, I'm the one that is to blame; the one that cost them their loved one.
Still others see me as a member of NASA who helped to fly planes and discover the coolest things.
And all of these titles are mostly good.
They've defined my life.
They've sketched out who I am.
I would never trade one of these titles.
But sometimes…
…sometimes I just wish…
…That I could be just Scott Tracy.
So please do me a favor if you see me in a crowded shopping mall. Don't stop, point and stare, and take pictures, saying, "Isn't that Jeff Tracy's boy?"
Just call me Scott.
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