I promised myself at ten, at twelve, that I would write fan letters to stars, but I could never bring myself to actually send them. At twenty, I still imagined writing scented notes on rich cream paper to Kate Jackson, and even Farah Fawcett, also Lily Tomlin, oh and Agent 99... and Maude and Lynda Carter.... Telling them that, yes, I'd had a hopeless crush on them. Telling Farah about that time I got my grandmother the Farah Fawcett swimsuit poster -- the red bathing suit, head back, big hair poster -- for Mother's Day and offered to keep it in my room if it didn't suit hers. My older self would laugh, ha ha, and I'd tell Farah and all of them that I wasn't silly anymore. "We can all laugh at me," I'd say -- "that's the gift!" And I'd slide in that now, by contrast, I was a mature lesbian who needed nothing from them, just thought I should let them know... say thanks or something.... because it might make them feel good to think they'd made a little girl like me stay up late at night. Wishing on them. Wishing for them.