It’s Not Contagious, You Know. Death Is

That's What Heaven Is. You Get To Make Sense Of Your Yesterdays

I Find Interesting Characters Or Lessons That Resonate With People And Sometimes I Write About Them In The Sports Pages, Sometimes I Write Them In A Column, Sometimes In A Novel, Sometimes A Play Or Sometimes In Nonfiction. But At The Core I Always Say To Myself, 'is There A Story Here? Is This Something People Want To Read?'

You've Lived Through A Lot Of Wars, I Said. "yes." Do They Ever Make More Sense? "no.

Take One Story, Viewed From Two Different Angles. It Is The Same Day, The Same Moment, But One Angle Ends Happily... And The Other Ends Badly.

He Never Spoke Of That Night Again, Not To Your Mother, Not To Anyone Else. He Was Ashamed For Her, For Mickey, For Himself. In The Hospital, He Stopped Speaking Altogether. Silence Was His Escape, But Silence Is Rarely A Refuge. His Thoughts Still Haunted Him.' ~pg 139