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I remember the time I was kidnapped and they sent a piece of my finger to my father. He said he wanted more proof.

When I was growing up, my stepmother's sister was the chief detective in one of the adjoining towns, so she piqued my interest in crime.

I was punished for blowing the whistle on my father's lifestyle.

It was my father who - after, at age 15, I had attempted unsuccessfully to drive the family car using a 'borrowed' key and knocked down a wall of the garage - convinced me over the telephone not to run away from home and who then came home from work not to punish me but rather to console and comfort me.

My father and mother had tremendous integrity, and obviously that affected me.

Several paranoid suspicions occurred to me, the worst of which was that my whole identity was merely a patched-together set of behaviors designed to keep my parents joined to each other - the repertoire of tricks of a small but intelligent dog.

My father made with me one serious mistake which I see parents about me making. He got himself somehow into the awkward position of an authority; I thought he knew and was right on everything - for a while.

My mom used to get arrested for being with my dad. She would get fined. She would spend weekends in jail.

I don't think my mother and father ever had any doubts about what I was to be punished for or not. My parents come from a very strictly defined culture.

You know how my mother and father met? In a train robbery!