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did name my Cabbage Patch doll Robbie Nichole, after Robert Scorpio of General Hospital. Her original name was too strange not to change. As her adoptive mom, I had to be sure she had a decent name. Looking back, I don't know how decent of a name Robbie Nichole was, but I do know it was much better than Eunice Ursula. I was probably too old to have a Cabbage Past doll, but they were so ugly I had to have one. Even as a teen, I was always working for the underdog.

I wanted to participate in "Hands Across America," but we lived too far away from any major cities that were participating. I did buy the "We Are the World" single. I would cry when I thought of all the people, especially the children, starving in Africa. I had no idea of the genocide that would become the major news story decades later.

I discovered my love for politics in the eighties as I helped my parents campaign for Ronald Reagan. I really liked him, mostly because he reminded me of my grandfather. "Well," he would begin his speeches and answers to questions at press conferences. My grandfather did that, too. As I studied him later in my life, I discovered he really did have a lot in common with my grandfather. It still amazes me that they were both stolen from this world by Alzheimer's disease.

Speaking of politics, we all remember Oliver North. I never did figure out why he was on trial. He was just a colonel, what could he have possibly known about all of the Iran Contra business? As I listened to the recent debates as to whether or not Iraq had weapons of mass destructions I had one thought, "If they look around the White House, I'm sure they will find a receipt for WMDs." We were so anti-Iran that we became pro-Iraq during their war, I'm sure they sold them some type of weapons to defeat the country who held our citizens hostage for all those months.

"What color was your Swatch?" my friend asked me.

It was pink, of course. I had the little plastic "protectors" that crossed the watch's face to keep it from getting scratched. My Swatch had to be pink - it had to match all the menswear I was wearing at the time. My mom was very strict that I not "dress like a boy," so all of my ties and vests were pink and lacey or some other Easter egg pastel she thought was feminine enough for me. Even if I had worn the more traditional pinstripes, it would have been hard to mistake me for a boy. I was the one with the giant bow in my hear. Thank you, Molly Ringwald, for all those coming of age movies you made

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