This is not an autobiography in any typical sense. While people are interested in Obama’s life or Gandhi’s life, there is no such interest in my life. Rightfully. This is not that kind of book. I believe that getting old is the first time we can genuinely figure out the relationship we have with ourselves. What our likes and dislikes are when they are uncoupled from social standards.

So this is a kind of mental autobiography. It’s a book of essays about everyday life, from the perspective of being much closer to the end than the beginning. The essays are different lengths and there are even ditties (words that rhyme…more Dr. Seuss than poetry). There was nothing systematic about the topics I wrote about. Someone would say something, or a thought would wake me up in the middle of the night. Then I would write to find out what I thought.