Darius — Thank you for your encouragement. I’m not now and have never been ashamed of my own actions. When I’ve been incredibly selfish or stupid, I’ve always admitted it immediately. As I wrote elsewhere here, my mother raised me as her mother had raised her (turn of the Century Victorian New England, DAR and Daughters of the Mayflower, both), not to DO, SAY, OR EVEN THINK anything you wouldn’t be willing to see on the front page of the newspaper the next day. No exceptions allowed. And the older I get, and the more people pass beyond this earth, the more comfortable I feel writing about the past, knowing that I won’t be hurting anyone by telling, or retelling as fiction, these stories. The exception that springs immediately to mind is the piece I’ve published here, “Counting Time,” which is definitely about my very short first marriage, and about a man who I don’t care if I may hurt, although I very much doubt he will ever read anything I write. I think I much prefer the mix of truth and fiction, although my poetry is all based solidly on truth. My prose is not, and wanders all over the place amongst genres, with the exception of essays, which are also fact mixed with opinion/interpretation, with references and footnotes. And the truth is, I have everything to lose, if my current situation falls apart. I cannot take that chance, and will never do so.