It never occurred to me I would some day be Editor of the Psychoanalytic Review. I had boxes of underlined issues of the journal going back to the 1960s. I became good friends with one of its editors, Marie Coleman Nelson, in 1974 and began publishing in it in the 1970s. Marie was a special person. One might call her a maverick, but that would diminish her fullness. She had a love for language and culture and appreciated creativity when she found it. She could cut through falsehood with a wry look or word yet raise the level of perception with a sparkle of an eye. When I was with her, I felt I was learning about life.

By the time I was asked to run for the editorship, she had passed away. I had long since formed an awareness of the Review's history and mission. In an online note I sent to a listserve I belonged