The Same People Who Tell Us That

I Am A Member Of A Small, Nearly Extinct Minority Group, A Kind Of Urban Lost Tribe Who Insist, In The Face Of All Evidence To The Contrary, On The Sanctity Of Being On Time. Which Is To Say That We On-timers Are Compulsively, Unfashionably Prompt, That There Are Only Handfuls Of Us In Any Given City And, Unfortunately, We Never Seem To Have Appointments With Each Other.

You Can Teach Someone Who Cares To Write Columns, But You Can’t Teach Someone Who Writes Columns To Care.

The Central Paradox Of Motherhood Is That While Our Children Become The Absolute Center Of Our Lives, They Must Also Push Us Backout In The World.... But Motherhood That Can Narrow Our Lives Can Also Broaden Them. It Can Make Us Focus Intensely On The Moment And Invest Heavily In The Future.

Without Even Knowing It, We Are Assaulted By A High Note Of Urgency All The Time. We End Up Pacing Ourselves To The City Rhythm Whether Or Not It's Our Own. In Time We Even Grow Hard Of Hearing To The Rest Of The World. Like A Violinist Stuck Next To The Timpani, We May Lose The Ability To Hear Our Own Instrument.

In The Biotech Revolution, It Is The Human Body, Not Iron Or Steel Or Plastic, That's At The Source. Are The Biocapitalists Going To Be Allowed To Dig Without Consent Into Our Genetic Codes, Then Market Them?