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Lisa’s mother, Beverly Siegler, was one of Seattle’s first female cardiothoracic surgeons—“Don’t call me a cardiologist. I work for a living,” she used to say. Her father, Archibald Siegler, struggled as a novelist—which he used as an excuse to stay at home and drink like Hemingway.
“She likely had Asperger’s, though that word is no longer PC because it was said to be the name of a Nazi who espoused eugenics and murdering people considered low functioning. Now my mother would be considered autistic.
“Just thirty years of studying human nature. The strongest biological urge may be to procreate, but it’s not far ahead of man’s innate compulsion to protect himself.”
Tracy knew regret was much harder to live with than failure. Regret caused you to second-guess what you hadn’t done.
