Laugh now, cry later.

He opened the jar of pickles when no one else could. He was the only one in the house who wasn't afraid to go into the basement by himself. He cut himself shaving, but no one kissed it or got excited about it. It was understood when it rained, he got the car and brought it around to the door. When anyone was sick, he went out to get the prescription filled. He took lots of pictures... but he was never in them.

I don't know why no one ever thought to paste a label on the toilet-tissue spindle giving 1-2-3 directions for replacing the tissue on it. Then everyone in the house would know what Mama knows.

My type of humor is almost pure identification. A housewife reads my column and says, 'But that's happened to ME! I know just what she's talking about!

There are few things in this world more satisfying than having your son teach you how to play tennis, unless it is having a semi-truck run over your foot.

You hear a lot of dialogue on the death of the American family. Families aren't dying. They're merging into big conglomerates.

. . . but mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute - look at it and really see it - live it - and never give it back.