Like the Earth, the Web is a less appealing place than it used to be. If I want attitude and arguing and meanness and profanity and wrong information screamed at me as gospel, I'll get in a time machine and spend Christmas with my family in 1977.

Basketball's eras are defined by teams - Celtics, Lakers, Bulls - and baseball's epochs are defined by players - Ruth, Robinson, Mantle - but with football, it's the sideline strategists, the nutty professors and top coated Lears.

In Zurich, in a cafe overlooking the Limmat, I ate butter-drenched white asparagus pulled from the ground that morning; it had the aftertaste of champagne. I've been able to appreciate epic meals in San Francisco, New Orleans, Berlin, Paris, Las Vegas.

While I was busy hating Vegas, and hiding from Vegas, a funny thing happened. I grew to love Vegas.

My family and friends have been monumentally supportive from well before I was a published author.

Gertrude Stein really thought of Hemingway as frail. He almost married Stein.

I love the story of how my parents met because it seems very 1950s Brooklyn. They met on a brownstone stoop as my father was singing a little doo-wop.

At a family's most difficult time, I want to make sure at a minimum that they have the very basic of comforts: the ability to grieve their loss privately and the knowledge that their country is grateful for their loved one's sacrifice and service.