Is it just me or are some of the Republicans who people thought surely would run for president, but have either decided not to or are still sitting on I-might fences, just chicken?  Or, are some of them, maybe, just maybe, exhibiting good sense?  Don’t go nuts.  I just said maybe. 

Now that Mike Huckabee and Haley Barbour have decided they don’t have the fire in their bellies to run for president (and in Huckabee’s case, he probably also doesn’t have the fire in his wallet to permit him to relinquish those speaking dollars and fair and balanced Fox News paychecks), all we have to do is see if Mitch Daniels thinks that Americans won’t care if he was abandoned by his wife for a time.  Truth be told, he does look like the sort of Mr. Ollie or Kewpie Doll kind of guy his far more babe-acious and interesting wife would leave for another man.  Though I doubt we’ll ever really know why Cheri decided to come back.  Of course, there’s also Mitt Romney, who even without neckties, Ken hair, RomneyCare and pressed jeans, has to be thinking about how he is going to look mas macho and imposing and front runner-certain nominee amidst such a, well, sorry lot of real and potential opponents.

Yes, I said sorry.  Look at Donald Trump, if you can manage it.  I didn’t say listen to Donald Trump.  Then there’s Sarah Palin.  Personally, I think Sarah will keep refudiating things, shooting animals and collecting big speech fees for as long as she can before the calendar forces her to say, ya know, I don’t think the White House is for me, I hear you have to work hard, meet foreigners, and it’s also kind of hard to resign if you get sick of it all.  Former Minnesota Governor Tim Pawlenty, who resembles the kindly high school social studies teacher all of us might have had, is about as bland as the cream of mushroom-laden dishes his state is infamous for throughout the world.  There’s the Eye of Newt Gingrich, who comes with lots of marital and verbal baggage as well as a 23 years his junior third wife who makes the Stepford Wives look like pothead organic goddesses living on a commune in Eugene, Oregon (a nice enough place where I actually lived for a while, though not on a commune, or as a pothead organic goddess).  And of course, there’s Tea Party Princess Michele Bachmann and her version of our Constitution.

All of this aside, I have found myself starting to think that maybe not all of the ones who have not yet declared are chicken, or hungry for the money they can make from television, speeches, books, or political action committees.  Perhaps some of them realize they cannot win, so why go raise money before rich dimtwits and talk to Cub Scouts and factory workers when you could be doing just about anything else.  Maybe some of them know, whether in their guts or in their heads, that they don’t have the mental gravitas a president should have if he or she is going to do a reasonably good job.  Could it be that some of them know that the demands of the presidency and life in the White House, despite access to Air Force One, the limousine Beast, and helicopters, can be hell on family life or just plain life in general?  In today’s world, a Secret Service enmeshed president cannot, for instance, decide to pop across the street for a Whopper and fries or a new shirt.  Or meet some of the boys and girls from the old job back home at the bar for a few cold ones.  Nor can a modern president conduct an extramarital affair, affairs or just plain flings (without the walk of shame, the Secret Service and the limousines take care of that one) without great difficulty and the almost certain knowledge that he or she will be outed, whether by errant staff, ticked paramours in dresses of navy or any other color, saved emails and text or voice mail messages, or vigilant reporters.  Hell.  And for a job, despite the perks, including Camp David and daily visits by a physician (which might not be too appealing to some of the might-be Republican candidate crowd, based on their current physical appearances), that only pays $400,000 taxable per year?  Some of these people make that for delivering four or five speeches.  Not counting expenses.

What it comes down to is this:  the presidency is a damn tough job with the possibility for great rewards and even greater punishments.  If you aren’t willing to give it everything you’ve ever imagined in the way of sacrifice and more, you need to stay home and keep making speeches before wide-eyed partisan fans.  And if some of these Republicans aren’t running because they’re chicken, that’s fine.  These days, we don’t need poultry in the White House anywhere but the kitchen.  And if they are, by chance, displaying matured reasoning in their unwillingness to run, well then, dang, the country wins as well.  We don’t need any reluctant presidents.

In a funny way, maybe this is some of the change we can believe in that a lot of us have said we wanted.