" When she was eighteen years old she had almost drowned in the Kennebec River, not because of the pummeling current, but because she couldn't come up with a casual phrase with which to call for rescue. " Help!" was such a cliche. By the time she was willing to scream, she had no breath left, and it was just blind luck that somebody saw her gasping and floundering and pulled her to shore. " Why didn't you say something?" they wanted to know, and she said, " I'm not a screamer." " Jesus," said one of them, " couldn't you have made an exception this one time?" " Apparently not," she said. "