One of the great joys of a long marriage is how the personal and pragmatic moosh together. We married in 1970, when we were living in Amherst, graduate students studying government at the University of Massachusetts.
Dan Collins awaits the next infringement of his civil liberties. We lived together for a couple of years, and I agreed to become Gail Collins while we were still single because our postal worker refused to deliver mail to a man and woman at the same address with different names.
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