Mostly, what I have learned so far about aging, despite the creakiness of one's bones and cragginess of one's once-silken skin, is this: Do it. By all means, do it.

I find it interesting that the meanest life, the poorest existence, is attributed to God's will, but as human beings become more affluent, as their living standard and style begin to ascend the material scale, God descends the scale of responsibility at commensurate speed.

I've always written. There's a journal which I kept from about 9 years old. The man who gave it to me lived across the street from the store and kept it when my grandmother's papers were destroyed. I'd written some essays. I loved poetry, still do. But I really, really loved it then.

I'm a descendant of someone bought and sold, and brought in 1619 in what was to become the United States.

The love of the family, the love of one person can heal. It heals the scars left by a larger society. A massive, powerful society.

My wish for you is that you continue. Continue to be who and how you are, to astonish a mean world with your acts of kindness.

All great achievements require time.