I could send a tape of me as I drive around this rather odd town of Salt Lake City and listen to the audio version of On Writing. I don't know if it is really as funny, honest, humble, and helpful as it seems, or that my funny bone got so tickled at Ula Beulah and it now refuses to shut down. People really do stare at me in the unkindest way as we wait together at stop lights and I strain for all available cloth to wipe the tears as they roll down my bouncing face. I never expected this book to be so rich a gift and will be grateful for whatever forever I've got left.