I grew up in a home where the Yankees were almost a religion! My grandfather and father were both major fans, and my summer vacations were punctuated with trips to Yankee Stadium (where, for five dollars, we sat in box seats along the first base line - oh, gone are THOSE days!) and watched afternoon games. At home, before we got our first TV, we listened to the big Philco radio and heard Mel Allen’s mellifluous voice call the games: "How about thay-at?" We waited outside the player’s entrance to the Stadium and shook hands with the players as they exited after a game - and most of them were wearing suits and ties, carryng a fedora or a Panama hat. To me, the joy of baseball is bound up with family memories - the long, languid afternoons in the ballpark or at home, the conversation of my father and his dad about great games from the past, the sense of peace that reigned in an often fraught household. It was as though our family paused to take a breath and relax a bit while the Yankees played.

Over the years, I’ve had my frustrations with the Yanks, but they’re still my team. Can’t say I am one of those rabid, other-team-hating types (although the Red Sox tend to make my blood pressure rise a bit!) but I do love me some Yankee ball. This was a fabulous series - every game well-played and exciting, and it was a thrill to have my guys win at home in NYC - a most fitting cap to their first season in the new Stadium.

For anyone not sure about the allure of baseball, may I recommend the wonderful writings of Roger Angell? No-one captures the mystique and history of the game like this New Yorker stalwart. It is a joy to read his elegant prose.

I don’t have kids, but I’ve taught for more years than seem possible. I KNOW kids well. And I know how they can find even the most carefully hidden emotional button, and press it with merry abandon. And I also have seen kids who have been used like velleyballs, spiked back and forth between bitter and angry parents, or used by one parent to demonize the other. What chance does such a child have? Looking at the Baldwin tape, I felt nothing but pity for him. He lost it. He said things that were hurtful and hateful and filled with anger. Then I heard him say things that were filled with anguish and regret and anger at himself. How many of us have not burst out with words directed at a recalcitrant or out-of-control child or teenager that we wished we could take back the moment they were uttered? How many of us have seen folks we know duking it out over marital issues and using the kids as part of the battle? Not so uncommon. I never blamed Baldwin, and I am so delighted to see this talented man getting the success and recognition he has earned. I will be watching the Oscars this year to see two of my favorite men up on the big stage, working their magic. (And if Steve Martin wants to play a little banjo - I’ll be tapping my toes!)

A great column to start the week, Liz! You never fail to bring something new to the discussion.

I was also struck by Kate’s comment about being a nurse and supporting her children. I know plenty of women in exactly that same position: working at a decent-paying job, budgeting carefully, making sure her kids’ needs are met, and explaining why certain "luxuries" such as trips and new toys are not always possible. I wonder why Kate cannot manage to accept that this is an alternative for her. She has embraced a lifestyle, however, and gotten her kids used to it as well, and seems reluctant to give it up, as though it is the ONLY way for her to manage. The unreality of the reality show has taken over, I think. And that is the real story - how does someone detach from that artificial reality and return to some semblance of real life? Is it possible?

Like you, when the news of the Ft. Hood rampage broke, my heart sank, and all I could think about was the REALITY of that event, and the REAL heroism and courage of those who ran INTO danger to save others. And, of course, the reality of a world that is a dangerous and unpredictable place was once again borne home. Surely there is some way to reconcile "entertainment" with the actuality of life in these times? And reliance on scripted "reality" shows would then fade into the mist of pop culture and be a footnote to an era rather than the centerpiece? Well, I still think that the best case scenario would be for someone with the insight and skill of Ken Burns to examine this phenomenon. Perhaps your dream, Linda, can become a reality - and I mean a REAL reality! I wish you success.

Have a great day, and keep the dream!

My driver’s license photo makes me look like a fugitive from a bad women-behind-bars movie. My photo ID for work has me looking like a somewhat demented cough-mixture addict. A recent digital photo taken by a friend depicts me as someone in desperate need of a comb and a long nap. Why is it that in every photo, my eyeglasses manage to be crazily askew? Can it be possible that my ears actually grow as they hear the click of the shutter? In a group shot, why is it that I always seem to have one eye closed? And in several shots, I have the startled look of someone who has just stepped in something terribly unpleasant.

But, tra-la, so be it. Instead of being photogenic, I will settle for having an "interesting personality".

The memory of my cousin Joanne as a little tot watching Sesame Street, and seeing her face light up when Oscar the Grouch popped up out of his garbage can - she just LOVED him!

Years later, my book group read abiography of the great dancer Nureyev. We always have a "book related snack" at our meetings, and someone brought in a bottle of champagne, and then put in a tape of Nureyev dancing "Swine Lake" with Miss Piggy on Sesame Street. Needless to say, we laughed so hard that most of the champagne came out of our noses!

Another memory: I was at a conference in Las Vegas when word came that Henson had passed away. That evening, the lights on the Strip dimmed, and I saw many people wiping away a tear. He was a man whose artistry reached across age groups, racial divides, cultural differences and gender to touch every soul.

So wonderful to see the names Anna Deveare Smith, Hal Holbrooke and Dixie Carter in one column. These are three truly talented folks with great staying power. Icons, if you will. And each has brought something unique to their art. THEY are the gifts that keep on giving. NOT the tabloid princesses and celebutantes who are famous for being famous, or for being train wrecks.

What a truly terrific interview, Joni and Dr. Hirmand! This is one of the first interviews where the doctor is open and honest enough to recognize and honor a woman’s decision to allow the aging process to take place naturally is such is her choice. So many interviews I have read and heard seem to push the idea of fighting aging all the way, and this was very encouraging to me.

Thus far, I have not had any work done, but I do think of it. I have been blessed through genetics with good skin and a clear complexion. I have some forehead wrinkles that I manage to hide behind bangs, but I have been thinking about perhaps having fome Restylane or Juvederm in the nasolabial folds, and maybe something to refresh my eyes, which often look tired. But I feel no special urgency to do these things, and having read this interview, I am still not about to rush into anything. But should I make the decision a bit further down the line, I would certainly seek out Dr. Hirmand or someone who follows her eminently sensible approach. For now, I will continue to care for my skin, and apply make-up that brightens my face when I am preparing to meet the world.

And on days when I look in the mirror and feel a little, well, shall we say "crinkly", I smile more broadly and tell myself that the process of earning my wrinkles has been a fascinating ride through a life of challenge and opportunity. I’ve earned those laugh lines and those creases formed by deep thought and, yes, even sorrow. Someday I may bid them adieu, but for now, I will keep them.

Again, thanks for a most sensible, thoughtful interview aimed at the real lives of real women. This is what makes wOw so special!

Piracy of films, piracy in the music industry - these are certainly lucrative areas where organized crime can make money, and that is what organized crime has always been about: money. I recently learned that there have been inroads from organized crime families in the Albanian "mob" into ATM’s! Not the ones attached to banks, but those "independent" ATM’s that are now found in markets, drugstores and gas station "mini-marts". Using these ATM’s is risky, since some of them record your card number and PIN and then forward the information to those who use your money, or launder their money through your purchases in some odd way. Yikes! The film industry loses millions in pirated DVD’d, and yes - it mainly affects the crew, NOT the stars or major director/production members. Sadly, it seems that it is always the "little people" who are hurt the most by organized crime.

For years, the word was that the mob made money by targeting the addictions of lawbreakers who gambled, frequented strip clubs or prostitutes, or used drugs - or other mobsters. Now we know this was never really true, don’t we? It was said that mobsters only target their own and never kill "civilians". And we know that was also never really true, either. And yet we continue to romanticize the mob in film, literature, music. And I readily admit that I list The Godfather, and Goodfellas, and The Sopranos among my favorites. Why, I wonder? What is it about these sagas of greed and violence and vengeance that has fascinated us since the Jacobean dramatists first spattered the stages with blood and gore and vendetta? What a strange dichotomy exists when it comes to the many shoots of the vine of organized crime.