New Yorkers, I figured, just pretended to be unfriendly.

No one expected you to amount to much," she told me. "Lori was the smart one, Maureen the pretty one, and Brian the brave one. You never had much going for you except that you always worked hard.

Those shining stars, he liked to point out, were one of the special treats for people like us who lived out in the wilderness. Rich city folks, he'd say, lived in fancy apartments, but their air was so polluted they couldn't even see the stars. We'd have to be out of our minds to want to trade places with any of them.

Once you'd resolved to go, there was nothing to it at all.

It was good work, the kind of work that let you sleep soundly at night and, when you awoke, look forward to the day.

Look at the way you live. You've sold out. Next thing I know you'll become a Republican." She shook her head. "Where are the values I raised you with?

Memoir is about handing over you life to someone and saying, This is what I went through, this is who I am, and maybe you can learn something from it.