I do tend to be almost kind of Pollyanna-ish person.

I do a lot of mental work before I ever start writing.

An election marks the end of the affair; it puts paid to the seduction of the many by the few. Pretty words, fulsome promises. We wind up married, but to whom, to what? We cannot always predict with certainty the future leader from the winning candidate. Some men grow in the job; others are diminished by its demands and its grandeur.

Sometimes change came all at once, with a sound like a fire taking hold of dry wood and paper, with a roar that rose around you so you couldn't hear yourself think. And then, when the roar died down, even when the fires were damped, everything was different.

Real friends offer both hard truths and soft landings and realize that it's sometimes more important to be nice than to be honest.

These are my words; this is their world, a world in which we can wear our gender on our sleeves, unabashedly, as we go about the business of thinking out loud.

All parents should be aware that when they mock or curse gay people, they may be mocking or cursing their own child.