I love visiting my polygamous friends in Hildale, Utah. It's like Hannibal, Mo., with i-Pods. My arrival is usually heralded by a joyous eruption from a gaggle of barefoot, fresh-faced ruffians under the age of 6. I like to imagine that this tribute says as much about my character as it does about their penchant for candy.

My polygamous friends tell me (and the New York Times concurs) that the majority of cultures in the world practice polygamy. This state of affairs calls into question the veracity of the assertion that "marriage is between one man and one woman," (not to mention raising the issue of the extent to which the self-appointed enforcers of that injunction are familiar with the cast of characters populating the pages of their favorite Book.)

You won't see my friends on Oprah. You might see disgruntled former members of their community, people from other polygamous groups, or the occasional example of what my friends refer to as a "do-it-yourselfer." My friends won't knock on your door and try to convert you, either. They are peaceful, private people; and they just want to be left alone.

My polygamous friends are descended from generations of devout practitioners of plural marriage. Their motives are religious, not prurient. They love their way of life, and feel free to leave it if they choose (as have a few of their friends and relatives) without fear either of retribution or hot pursuit.

The population of their community is estimated to be about 10,000. If you draw a line on any map and demarcate an area encompassing a sample of humanity comprised of 10,000 specimens, there is little doubt that that sample will encompass some villainous criminals of a variety of stripes; and I suppose this is as true of their community as it is of any other. My friends, however, do not attribute the criminal activity in the outside world to the practice of monogamy.

Polygamous friends are like potato chips -- you can't have just one. I, myself, am lucky enough to have a great big happy bunch of them and, in spite of their charming and practical pioneer style of dress, I find them to be as individually varied and distinguishable, one from the other, as human beings generally are. Their religious beliefs compel them collectively to cherish each other's individual differences and talents as gifts from their Heavenly Father, and to actively support each other in the actualization of those gifts -- men, women, and children alike -- in service to their community.

Their industriousness does spectacular justice to the eponymous Beehive State. They are inventors, mechanics, farmers, tailors, musicians, teachers, masons, carpenters, mothers, fathers, grandparents, brothers and sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins. They're also smart, witty and fun.

While it's only human nature to be curious about other people's sex lives, I assure you that my polygamous friends are entirely too genteel and well brought up to dream of prying. After all, my sex life is really nobody's business but my own.

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