My mother belonged to a German family established in Quincy, Illinois.
Belsano was their summer home, but I always felt I belonged there
rather than in Pittsburgh. It's hard to be loyal to Pittsburgh.
Authors are sometimes like tomcats: they distrust all the other toms
but they are kind to kittens.
I was a fortunate child in that I was moderately neglected. It meant
that I could run as wild as a weaned colt in an unfenced pasture.