I Like When The Ice Gets Thin,

All Three Of My Parents - I Also Had A Stepmother - Were Teachers, And My Dad Taught High School, And As He Always Reminded Me When I Was Going To Spend Some Money On Something, 'your Mother And I, In The Depression, Had To Decide Whether To Spend A Dime On A Loaf Of Bread Or If We Could Go To A Movie With It.'

If You Have A Relative Who's Lost Interest In Everything And Doesn't Get Out Of Bed, Who Doesn't Care For Things They Used To, Can't Imagine Anything That Would Give Them Any Pleasure, Don't Fool Around With It; Get Therapy, Get Help, Get Medication If That's Right For You, Or Talk Therapy, Or Something.

I Have A Feeling That About 90% Of My Life Has Been Shaped By My Voice, Both As An Embarrassment And As An Advantage. There Was Always The Terrible Incongruity Of This Deep Voice Barreling Out Of This Little Body. Somewhere In The Back Of My Mind I Was Aware That It Was Ludicrous, That It Took On An Importance That Wasn't Really There.

By The Time I Was In The Fourth Grade, I Sounded Exactly Like My Father On The Phone.

When I Was A Kid In Nebraska, A Cantankerous Farmer, Known For Plinking With His '22 At Passing Cars In Which He Perceived Enemies, Ingeniously Rigged Up A Shotgun In His House, Trained On The Inside Of His Front Door So As To Widely Distribute Any Intruder.