People tell me I’m a nice person, that I am kind and considerate. They say, “That Ira, he’s such a gentle soul.” And for the most part, I try to be nice and kind and considerate and gentle. From those I love and respect, these descriptions of me are flattering. They make me blush because I never know what to do with compliments. But I have been called something else, too. When an acquaintance of mine remarked that he didn’t see color in me; just another version of white. When another writer said I wasn’t Asian because I didn’t write...