In the months leading up to World War II, there was a tendency among many Americans to talk absently about the trouble in Europe. Nothing that happened an ocean away seemed very threatening.
I remember the 1940s as a time when we were united in a way known only to that generation. We belonged to a common cause-the war.
Jealousy is, I think, the worst of all faults because it makes a victim of both parties.
I had known Cole Porter in Hollywood and New York, spent many a warm hour at his home, and met the talented and original people who were drawn to him.
I ask myself: Would I have been any worse off if I had stayed home or lived on a farm instead of shock treatments and medication?