I recall soon after my movie to Atlanta in 1984 that the Atlanta Press Club asked me to appear as the "mystery guest" at their Christmas party. Nothing felt scarier than facing a roomful of journalists and their antagonistic questions. I knew I'd have to meet the "enemy" sometime, of course, so why not all of them at once? I asked two friends to accompany me, took a deep breath, and waded into no-man's land. It didn't take long for a talk-show host to corner me and needle me about views obviously at the opposite pole from my own. "Tell me how you feel about abortion," he asked, waving an obvious red flag in my face. "I don't think you want to talk with me about abortion, because I have a very biased viewpoint," I replied. That disconcerted him, but he persisted. "I have a brilliant, handsome, very gifted son, and he's adopted," I told the reporter. "I simply can't be objective about that subject. I do believe that women should control their own bodies, though, but the control needs to be applied before they get pregnant, not after the fact. Once pregnant, a woman is dealing with a child's life and a father's offspring. It isn't too difficult to control one's body by abstaining from sex but, if one chooses not to abstain, one should be prepared for the responsibility of having a child." At once the man's challenging demeanor changed. No longer did he attempt to outwit me conversationally but instead turned into a charming, interested, human individual. We got along fine from that moment on.

The hurt in my heart and the agony in my soul were of such intensity that when I was home and first got the news of a national homosexual bill similar to the one in Dade County, all I could do was cry. This bill, HR2998, would have the effect of making it mandatory nationwide to hire known practicing homosexuals in public schools and in other areas. With all the thousands of other letters I received from groups all over the country dealing with pornography, abortion, TV violence, ERA, and various other things, all I could do was weep for America. There are no words in the English language strong enough to describe the grief I felt.