You Write To Suit Some Sense In

You're Like A Cake When You're Young. You Can't Rush It Or It Will Fall, Or Just Turn Out Wrong. Rising Takes Patience, And Heat.

I'm Writing This Memoir From The Perspective Of Somebody Who's Prosperous And Has Means. Having Said That, One Of The Things That I Think I Discovered About Those Additional Years Is That I Don't Think They Really Are Added To The End Of Life.

I Think There Was A Long Period Of Time When We Got Real Invested In A Youth Culture, And Not Coincidentally It Was When The Baby Boomers, Who Let's Face It, Take Up A Lot Of Space On The Planet, Were Young.

My Child Looked At Me And I Looked Back At Him In The Delivery Room, And I Realized That Out Of A Sea Of Infinite Possibilities It Had Come Down To This: A Specific Person, Born On The Hottest Day Of The Year, Conceived On A Christmas Eve, Made By His Father And Me Miraculously From Scratch.

Your Hair Isn't Quite Right And Maybe You're A Size Bigger Than You Should Be And On And On And On. I Think There Comes A Moment When You've Matured To The Point Where You Suddenly Think, Nonsense. I Am Fine Just The Way I Am.