In our relationship, Dawn's the alpha dog — the one who calls the shots. She prefers being the alpha dog. Because I tend to be rather laid back, I usually like the fact that she calls the shots. But, every now and then, the runt has to let Alpha know that he won't always roll over and play dead.

"Dawn, the Alpha Dog," page 37

Hope is something she and I share. Both of us have had to struggle in life. I was held back in the second grade not because I didn't know how to read, but because my teacher couldn't grasp the relatively simple concept that even if a child knows how to read, he's not going to be reading out loud if he has a severe speech impediment. I took extra hours and went to summer school while I was in college so that I still graduated college the year I was supposed to even with being held back unfairly in the second grade.

For her part, my friend from Yahoo! Messenger had to work really hard to put herself through college. She's a paralegal now. She took the LSAT last year and has been thinking of applying to West Virginia University College of Law. I always encourage her by telling her that I got through WVU College of Law in the top ten percent of my class. If my disability didn't stop me, there's nothing that can stop her. I do believe in her.

"Last Man Standing," page 28

I do love Dawn very much though, and do really miss it when we're not talking. So, to let her know I'm not just picking on her, I'm going to admit I've been prejudiced myself. The prejudice I have — that I struggle against — might be much, much worse than the prejudice that Dawn has against black people. My prejudice is against people with whom I should feel some comradery. We face similar problems. We have suffered similar letdowns. We have triumphed over similar obstacles. But, the thing is, I don't feel any comradery with other disabled people.

"Something for Dawn to Read," page 58