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I don't know what the instinct is, to save every report card, every half-sentence scribbled note, but my mother did it pretty effectively, and I've done it to a fare-thee-well.

For me, the card catalog has been a companion all my working life. To leave it is like leaving the house one was brought up in.

Reporting provides reminders that things are always more complicated than you think.

My mother was a powerful influence. She made me toe the line. If I didn't have a perfect report card, she showed her disappointment.

I love reporting stories that the Complex refuses to report.

Something even minor I do is going to be reported because of things that have happened in the past. You have to be aware of that.

A big part of reporting is just being present. You have to show up ten days in a row to get the one telling detail.

Each year, in my quaint efforts to send out paper holiday cards with personal messages, I probably discard one for every three I actually manage to put in the mail. The reason is that my handwriting is now less legible than it was when I was in the second grade.

And I always keep cards people send me. I have a whole wall covered with them.