Thank you for the opportunity. When my youngest daughter first approached Lenora and me about attending USC, we said no, absolutely not. To us, that place has a culture of loose morals and a lifestyle that we considered forbidden for a devout Catholic.

As I told you, however, my daughter is strong-willed and quite intelligent—more so, we her parents believe, than we are. My daughter wrote many letters to the University, to our relatives in Southern California and to the local church there. These people invited my wife, myself and my daughter to visit. After a week there, we were torn with doubt because the people at the University were so kind and really understanding of our reticence, as were our relatives and the people in the local congregation.

Oh how my wife and I beat our breasts and cowered before God, cowered with fear, my friends, because we honestly believed our daughter would be dead or dead to us within a few weeks or months of moving there. I remember one particular night I cursed God for not answering me even though I had done everything I knew to get him to answer. I wept angry and bitter tears that night but nothing. The next morning, Lenora and I prayed together and we decided to say no.

When we walked in to tell our headstrong daughter, she was looking at us, smiling and confident. To this day we do not know how or why, but Lenora and I told her at the same moment, yes, you go and attend this University. We love you and support you. The three of us wept many happy, and I will add for my wife's part and my part, confused tears.

As I told you, my daughter is doing well and I have learned a few things. One is that sometimes we are simply not meant to know anything about some things. Another is that I am so proud of my daughter that I cannot speak of her without choking up and crying. One more is that my wife and I do not always know what is best for our children even though we have always thought we did. Perhaps that is the most important lesson of all. I don't know. Personally, I like the second lesson the best.

Thank you, my new friend, for sharing that story. It has cleared my mind.

Frustration is a part of life. This is true whether one is a believer or not. It teaches us, as it taught Marcus and Lenora, that we are simply not meant to know anything about some things. Jill, you ended our previous discussion by quoting our resident genius Benny: live the moment. I'm going to take that statement at face value. I'm going to stop trying to second-guess you, Jill Price, and just understand what is before us in the moment. I'm going to quit trying to control my wife, my children, my work and my life and live in the moment. That is what I wanted to say. Thank you once more, Marcus, for that story.

I'll tell you a story. When Amalie tells me to let go of one of my *act as if* things, I have a devil of a time. First, I have to admit that I have one and, of course, then I discover that I have at least three.

The one I dislike most is that I act as if I am ready. I shower, dress and get ready to go. I'm ready for every opportunity way before it's due. Why am I always ready? Just in case, that's why. Just in case what? I don't know but I'm ready. I've been so ready for what I know is coming that I have no idea how to enjoy good things I'm not ready for. In fact, if someone says let's do this or that, I say hell no, I gotta get ready.

Well, screw it. I decide to be ready when I feel like it. Today, I decide to do something I'm not ready for. It means that I miss getting ready for something I know is coming up, but I do it anyway.

Here's the crazy part: I'm walking across the quad and god's gift is walking toward me. He smiles, nods, says hi and I say hi back. I take 50 steps before I realize that I don't give a shit! Suddenly the guy taps me on the shoulder and asks my name. I'm so surprised, I laugh from sheer delight at my discovery and ask him, what the hell do you want my name for? You don't even know me. You know what he says? Well, I'd like to know you. So, I tell him my name and he tells me his. I'm still curious so I ask him again why he wants to know my name. He says he doesn't know, so I smile and walk on to what I'm doing even though I'm not ready.

This not being ready stuff is great. From now on, I'm not getting ready. I'm living the moment. Thank you, Amalie, not for helping me get an introduction to god's gift but for your advice to dump that *act as if* thing. Now, I will work on dumping the others.

Mom, the answer to your question is yes, I live the moment.

Return with me to the original subject for a moment. We're discussing the fact that you grow frustrated when I don't answer you completely. Maria says it frustrates her too, so I compare my not providing all the answers to life not providing all the answers. Maria agrees with that too. All of a sudden, Les, you change the subject.

On this new subject, it's great that Marcus learns to trust his daughter. It's great that you are going to stop trying to control things around you that you cannot control. It's great that Lucia quits acting as if. It's even great that Maria has dropped her pretensions and has more to tell us about that.

Now, will you return to the original subject, please?

Les, did you agree with what I told Jill?

You've heard this from your wife and others, haven't you?

While you gather your thoughts and compose yourself, let me tell another story. Don't worry; it's short. A little while ago, I opened my Bible to find perhaps a dozen slips of paper—all notes from my youngest daughter pointing out passages of scripture she wanted me to read over the past several months as I pondered my decision about whether or not to allow her to attend USC. They were in there all the time, Les, but I didn't find them.

Anyway, perhaps one more lesson for me is that if God doesn't seem to answer my prayers, more than likely it's my problem.

We haven't discussed part 1 yet, which just means that our discussion took precedence and that's fine. I have questions and I'm sure others do as well.

Everyone in the group probably realizes by now that I'm interested in martial arts. In fact, I instruct classes at the local dojo. Jill, please tell us about the master of the school where you work out.

I have been involved for over a year in a relationship with a female friend. Looking back over our discussions, I believe you detected this some time ago, Jill. Anyway, now that I am officially out, I would like to say that I have feared this day for a long time. However, not one person I told considered it a big deal. I would like to add that none of this occurred during my time with Carmine. I still love him, miss him and I think someday I will be with him again. We'll just have to work out this new wrinkle in our relationship at that time.

At the moment, our little group numbers 15—9 males and 6 females, 8 caucasians, 5 blacks, 1 Marcus and 1 Raj. That does not count Peter, Jill or me. So, give me an age range for this woman, Lucia.

I have a Caucasian female, mid-40s, and a Hispanic male aged 60-or-so, both of whom have known Jill for a long time. That will bring us to 17—10 males and 7 females, about a 60-40 split. Any comments or questions?

Married, mother of 4, and, like all Pere and Midori executives, I'm wealthy, powerful and meaner than a basket of venomous snakes. Fluent in Japanese and Cantonese as well as most Romance languages. No religious affiliation but I consider myself an atheist. I am not being sacrilegious when I say that the only reverence I've ever known is for Jill Price and Ume Brandeau. Yes, it's partly money but beyond that, those two women hand me the world every day and say do as you will.

However, I criticize Jill and Ume constantly. Amalie, you called it exactly right when you observed that Jill speaks logically when she's angry. One of life's purest delights is to get Jill so mad that she starts spitting logic and I highly recommend it as recreation. The only thing better is to get Ume so angry that all she can speak is that whorehouse Japanese-English mixed up with vile and nonsensical words. I say, let's have some fun.