The proudest moments of my career are when I see my work resonate with others. When someone tells me my music has sparked something in them or helped them navigate a difficult moment, I know I’m doing something meaningful. It’s those genuine connections that make it all worthwhile.

Mr. Rogers lives on. There’s so many legions of people that grew up with him, and they’re still in a way growing up with him. He, of course, was a minister. ... And the children of the show, in the neighborhood, are his ministry. And what a beautiful thing that is. So I, to this day, when someone says, “What are you most proud to have accomplished?” I am so proud to have been a part of that.

I didn’t realise I’m the oldest ever! So I just about made it, huh? Because you can’t be dead and win … If you’re a winner of the National Inventors Hall of Fame you can be dead. I won that prize a couple of years ago and I was very proud of that. That is the most, I would say, most important prize I’ve won.

This may sound like a cliché, but I’ll put it this way. The proudest thing in my life is that my children came home. The proudest moment of my presidency, domestically, was when I signed a piece of civil rights legislation known as the ADA, doing something for the disabled. A massive piece of civil rights legislation that put disabled people, 50 million of them, into the mainstream, or at least removed legal obstacles to their being in the mainstream.

Singing onstage—and everyone walking around me saying, “Look how happy she looks.”

Flipping my wig.

A big loaded baked potato and a good book with time to eat it and read it.

Any person trying to uplift mankind.

The fact that sometimes my mouth is a little too big and a little too open and sounds too much like a sailor.

Dishonesty and being late for appointments.