A more accomplished writer than I, my wife waited with heroic patience while I got my act together. I finally proposed two days after I sold my first novel to W.W. Norton (the day following the sale was January 13th and this seemed an inauspicious date). I proposed on the 14th on Bedford Street, just after cocktails at Mas and right before we went to eat at Ditch Plains — I wanted the Ditch Plains hot dog platter and I knew she wouldn’t forbid me this if I’d just offered to spend my life with her. Most delicious hot dogs ever. She had oysters and the lobster roll.
Our son, Evan, was conceived at Madison Square Garden in 2007 during a Van Halen concert. He was born at New York Hospital and he and I ruled the High Line from the day it opened until we ran out of money and I needed to get a teaching job. Today, the three of us live together in astonishing happiness in the strangest place in North America, which they call Indianapolis.