James is right about acknowledgments; someone dear and indispensable gets inadvertently left off, so apologies in advance if either space or my own brain limitations leave you on the cutting room floor. Pulling together a book really does take a village. This falls far short of an exhaustive list of helping hands on this project. You know who you are.
Twenty years ago, together we published All’s Fair, a more cathartic-than-fun book. From then until now, between us we have published more than a dozen books—most by James and his cohorts, and my one singular effort, Letters to My Daughters, a tribute to my mother. After that, I swore I would never work on another book, describing the experience as akin to “giving birth without an epidural.” Turning sixty this year, and hence, done with birthing, this book began with great trepidation but turned out to be as joyous as giving birth, thanks to Martha Sherrill. I’ve known for decades Martha was an unusually gifted and creative writer, editor, novelist and a beautiful person in every way. But who knew her work mode was so organized that she makes The Seven Habits of Highly Organized People look like a one-car funeral screw-up? Without Martha, it would have taken seven times the number of highly organized people to deal with the myriad substantive, logistical, administrative, technological and legal issues, not to mention divergent “personalities” associated with this project. And she did it all without screaming at the many who deserved it; indeed she’s encouraging to the point of saintliness. Did I mention the book was a “crash” and she layered it on top of her other global projects? Space restrictions allow only a partial listing of Martha’s multiple winsome features: she is unusually well read and well versed on any topic you can think of, an exotic cook (she made Nutella from scratch!), a versatile yoga, fashion, notions and medical expert and the party gets started when she walks into the room. Much of this book was put together in New Orleans and to a man, everyone who crossed her path (when we played hooky, which was often and necessary) adored her. I don’t know when I’ve been as inspired by a person or had so much fun with one on a work project. The greatest gift, though, was rekindling a treasured friendship interrupted by time and space. Thanks also to her beloved family, the talented and handsome (King) Bill Powers, who kept us sane as best he could and deployed his critical eye without complaint, tendering indispensable contributions with the patience of Job and gentleness of Mother Teresa; and to (Prince) William Powers, whom I adore like a son, even though we’ve never met, because his mother loves him so much, she fills the room with his essence. Good luck at Milton, William. You come from good stock.
Brady Dennis. May I pay you the highest compliment I have: your mama raised you right. This handsome, intelligent and stunningly good-natured Southern gentleman—and intrepid reporter at the Washington Post—worked nights and weekends over an entire summer with a new baby on the way and a big baby (my husband) on his lap. He made the process of writing another book with James a rare treat, almost blessing, and certainly not as much the hair-pulling raging nightmare that I worried it might be. James sang his praises. Martha adored him. When do I get my turn? Brady, please come back often and bring your new family.
There is no book (or much of anything else) without Bob Barnett. “Thank you, Counselor.” We wouldn’t have anything to write about without the guiding hand and friendship of Harry Rhoads. And no one we would want to write it with beside the inimitable David Rosenthal. Boys, we have traveled some miles and we’re just getting started. xoxox
We’re also grateful to all the good folks at Penguin/Blue Rider Press for guiding us through the complications of two stories which constantly needed to be made one (on a short deadline, to boot). We’re especially thankful to copy chief Linda Rosenberg, managing editor Meredith Dros, production editor Janice Kurzius, associate publisher and publicity director Aileen Boyle, publicity manager Brian Ulicky, senior publicist Carrie Neill, and assistant editor Phoebe Pickering. Nothing in this book scared them away.
Nothing in this book, or for that matter in any part of my life, would be remotely possible without the following friends. And by “I,” I mean “us” because if Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy, as Tim and James never tired of pointing out.
No way to thank Elizabeth Brown Long for all she does, every day, 24/7/365, in good times and bad, always calm in our chaos, for all of us, and has for years. So much love to you and Ramon Long, our very special daughter and son.
With thanks and love to our Home Girl Queen, Debbie Mantz for our Valley paradise, keeping us in good order everywhere and always rolling with it all; and for sharing her multitalented, manly-man, Ford.
James likes to console himself with the quote usually attributed to French general Charles de Gaulle (but it turns out a dozen people had already said it before him), “The graveyards are filled with indispensable men.” But it is just not possible to imagine a more robust and indispensable joy bunny in any world than Ryan Berni. And the whole Carville Clan agrees, no project would ever get off the ground, let alone be completed, without the Berni-touch. Who Dat, dear love. To Claire Drake, for your energy, good cheer, and sistering the girls so lovingly.
With gratitude and awe for their constant vigilance and continued sanity in the Matalin/Carville nuthouse: Allie Olivier, Kees Nordin, Sarah O’Brien and Lily Lopez. Eternal thanks to Renie and lil bro. Hugs to Todd, just because.
To my hearts, James, Matty and Emerson: even if the words existed for me to write of my love for you, there wouldn’t be enough trees on the planet to carry it. And that goes for all the critters too.