I would not take for granted that my personal life - because I knew better than anybody - that it was just a life. It was surprisingly an ordinary life.

It's like if people don't see you on TV every day, they think you're in cryogenics somewhere.

When I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder the year I turned 50, it was certainly a shock. But as a journalist, knowing a little bit about a lot of things, I didn't suffer the misconception that depression was all in my head or a mark of poor character. I knew it was a disease, and, like all diseases, was treatable.

Most of us in the baby-boom generation were raised by full-time mothers. Even as recently as 14 years ago, 6 out of 10 mothers with babies were staying at home. Today that is totally reversed. Does that mean we love our children less than our mothers loved us? No, but it certainly causes a lot of guilt trips.

I probably am more shy than people realize. But I'm shy when I leave a studio and I am just myself.

I came back to work when my children were two months old. At that early age, they seem to have little awareness of anybody but their Raggedy Ann dolls, so it wasn't a matter of them missing me. I was missing them.

The most likely moment for something incredible to happen to me was the moment I was most certain nothing ever would.