They say such nice things about people at their funerals that it makes me sad to realize I'm going to miss mine by just a few days.

A lovely thing about Christmas is that it's compulsory, like a thunderstorm, and we all go through it together.

I write for a radio show that, no matter what, will go on the air Saturday at five o'clock central time. You learn to write toward that deadline, to let the adrenaline pick you up on Friday morning and carry you through, to cook up a monologue about Lake Wobegon and get to the theater on time.