This country has long been considered a beacon of safety, and for many who come here after fleeing unimaginable circumstances in other countries, it is, and always will be.

I grew up in a small town, and Dairy Queen was really the only food establishment we had. This explains why I continue to have more affection for Dairy Queen, even in my adult life, than the average person. Dilly Bars, dipped cones, Peanut Buster Parfaits, and, of course, Blizzards. One of my favorite lines (yes, authors have favorite lines) in my most recent book is when I say that employees will work harder if companies install a Dairy Queen Blizzard machine in the break room. I was kidding, but only kind of.

I woke up last Thursday morning to the sight of a woman at the top of my driveway putting a bag of dog poop in my trash can. And so I stewed on this for hours, feeling pissed and a little violated. What is wrong with people?

This is just a firework, and a mediocre one at that, but it's a firework that was set off in my hometown, above the baseball fields in the town park. Other than Christmas, I go home so seldom that I think this past weekend may have been the first time in over a dozen years that I was around for the annual summer festival.

I love living in New York, but it's hard to beat this view out your back window. Yes, I love living in New York, but I'd be lying if I said it was stress free. Au contraire. It's noisy, it's expensive, and the woman downstairs keeps whacking her ceiling as hard as she can every time my cat runs across the room.

You've probably never thought about it before, because your family probably doesn't have a permanent slot on the Christmas program every year at church.

I talk to my parents regularly, but rarely do I get a call and see that it's coming from my Dad's cell phone. There's usually a slight sense of panic, like something might be wrong, especially because he's not the most chatty guy.