www.baltimoresun.com/entertainment/ct-prj-0401-question-20120330,0,6696192.story

baltimoresun.com

Feedback: What would you title your autobiography?

Email us PrintersRow@tribune.com

7:20 PM EDT, March 30, 2012

Advertisement

"I'm Not There Yet!" I've done lots of things in my life, both worthy and not so worthy. I've worked, played, and helped raise a family. I've done some good things and also strayed into doing some not so good things. Yeah, I'm beating around the bush. But, still, I'm not through. I feel even at 66 there is a lot left for me to do.

— Howard Mostyn-Brown, Aurora

"A Wonderful Life." While there have been hardships along the way, I am fortunate to have a wonderful family, great friends and lots of good experiences.

— Daniel Cotter, Chicago

"Look Dad, I Made a Snow Angel." One day, when I was 4 years old, I was trying to make a snow angel. As it was getting dark, and I was continually squirming, I finally figured out how to make my angel. It was about the time that my dad, a police officer, came home from work. I would usually run to meet him when his partner dropped him off at the corner of our block, but not this day. I was so excited to tell him about my snow angel, but as he approached, he just quietly picked me up and walked into the house. The next day, my parents separated.

— Tiffiany Tate, Chicago

"Me…in Cookies." I bake cut-out cookies for every occasion and am a member of the Cookie Cutters Collectors Club. Also, I work on a Mac and love my iPhone. My life is all about cookies that are bites, and cookies that are bytes. Do you think you can find a publisher for me?

— Kathi Frelk, Lake Barrington

There's a great song by Bruce Cockburn called, "Pacing the Cage." It has a lot of wisdom in it, and the lyrics would make great chapter titles. Granted, they could also turn into the most pretentious chapter titles ever.

— Adam Music, Lakemoor

"The Heartache Club." On Sept. 11, 1981, my 8-year-old son died of leukemia after fighting for more than four years. No matter how good life becomes, half my heart, and probably half my brain, died with him.

— Charlene Wexler, Richmond

"But Not For the Faint of Heart." Why? The particular blend of experiences I've had are ones not usually combined in a single lifetime. They didn't always make sense at the time, but each one had a meaningful purpose, and, in retrospect, sometimes an extremely beautiful one.

— Linda Clark-Borre, Chico, Calif.