by Sally Quinn
There are no words to describe what Ev did for me in these past two and a half years. She was at once my grief counselor, my shrink, my confidante, my teacher, my adviser, my editor, my researcher, my inspiration, my supporter, my warden, and my partner in writing this book. Ev immediately immersed herself in the subject of religion—checking endless books out of the library to recommend—interviewed me, talked through my experiences, encouraged me to write some things, urged me not to write others. She has an unerring sense of tone and language. I would like to say for the record that anything anyone finds objectionable, outrageous, or over the top in this book is not Ev’s fault. Just know she tried to take it out. She would raise an eyebrow, hit me up again and again, and even though I faced her down from time to time—“This is my story, this is my truth”—she still managed to get me to cut out the most egregious parts. Sometimes I would write something completely unacceptable just to give her a win. She is also a tech wizard. There were times when she would have three versions of the manuscript on her computer and she managed to keep it all straight and make sense of things when I was glassy-eyed. Without Ev there would be no book. So my thanks and my love to Ev for keeping me going through the darkest times, with humor and intelligence and understanding.
Lucy Shackelford, “researcher to the stars,” came into my life when she was working on Ben’s papers, which we donated to the Ransom Center at the University of Texas. Lucy then turned her attention to my unorganized files. I have never seen anything like it. Lucy can find things that nobody ever knew existed. She unearthed so many documents, letters, photographs, and articles by me and about me and my family that I was truly stunned. Toward the end of the writing, she joined Ev and me in our marathon editing session. As is Ev, she is a stickler for facts, figures, and timelines. Both of them are meticulous. Lucy is also a computer genius. Lucy was completely unflappable when things got tense during late-night sessions. She was always there with a smile and a calming word. I don’t believe there would be a book without Lucy either.
Nobody was more supportive of me during Ben’s illness and death and the years afterward than Leslie Marshall. Leslie is the mother of three fabulous children, Ben’s grandchildren and my step-grandchildren, Jo, Bea, and Marshall, whom Ben loved very much. For two years before Ben’s death she and her husband, Bill Weld, moved into the house across the street. There was hardly a day that Leslie did not come over to give Ben a hug and kiss, tell him she loved him, and sit with him while he watched the news. Ben absolutely adored Leslie. She also was my handholder-in-chief. That involved drinking a lot of rosé out on the porch in the summer evenings, or by the fire during the winters after I had put Ben to bed. Leslie was there to listen and to commiserate. She really held me together as Ben declined. She loved Ben too. When he was dying she was in the room with me, along with other family members for those three days. After Ben died she took care of me, going up to the cemetery with me to visit Ben in the chapel, holding me when I cried. Leslie is a brilliant editor and read my book over twice, giving me encouragement and advice when I most needed it. Leslie personifies the definition of best friend. Never once in all of our relationship has there been an unkind or thoughtless word between us. She makes me feel like a million bucks and I truly love her.
Bob Barnett is the attorney extraordinaire in Washington. Bob has worked with Ben and Quinn and me on our books and has been a close friend for years. He has more energy, enthusiasm, and optimism than anyone I have ever known. He’s so dear that it’s hard to realize that Bob Barnett is not anyone to mess with. If you want somebody on your side, Bob is the only one to have. He also has a fabulous wife, Rita Braver. The two of them have been inordinately kind to the three of us throughout our lives and especially during this last ordeal. I owe them enormous gratitude.
Maricarmen Barrón helped me take care of Ben in those difficult last two years when I was overwhelmed. Nobody could have been more kind, loving, and devoted than Carmen, always cheerfully willing to do what both he and I needed no matter what time of day or night. She alone could get Ben to do things nobody else could. He loved Carmen and listened to her, often when he rebelled against me for trying to tell him what to do. She was and still is always there for Ben and Quinn and me, despite her own grief at losing him. She is still here now for Quinn and me. I couldn’t have gotten through it without her.
Our doctor Michael Newman is everything a doctor should be. He treats the whole person, not just the illness. Even if we got hangnails he would ask, “What’s going on in your life?” Ben counted Michael as not only the greatest doctor in Washington but as one of his closest friends. Michael treated the three of us with incredible care and attention and predicted Ben’s death when nobody saw it coming. He said Kaddish at Ben’s funeral at my request. He has been like a father to Quinn since then and an enormous comfort to me as well.
It was through Michael Newman that Ben and I met Steven Wolin, his closest friend and the most distinguished psychiatrist in Washington. Steven is the best thing that ever happened to the three of us. We started seeing him when Ben’s personality began to change. Quinn began seeing him because of issues around his learning disabilities. The three of us would often go together, or separately, or two on one. Ben loved him and trusted him, and allowed Steven to help him through what Ben knew was the beginning of the end with grace and compassion. When I started seeing him alone, he literally, and I don’t say this lightly, changed my life. He helped me discover the quest for faith that I had always had but never recognized, and steered me in the direction of what was to be my passion, both personally and professionally. Steven saw me through the death of my mother, a major trauma in my life, the constant problems Quinn was having at the time, Ben’s loss of cognitive ability, and my own feelings of despair and loss of confidence. He made me believe in myself when it seemed that my world was falling down around me. He was there for me after Ben died, intelligent, consoling, and showing the way for me. Without Steven I’m not sure I would have made it, and there would certainly be no book today. I thank him with all my heart.
There is no more decent person in this world than Don Graham. He worked closely with Ben first as a reporter under him and then later as his publisher. Mostly though, Don was a cherished friend. Don stood by Ben during the horrible Janet Cooke episode. He also insisted Ben stay on after Ben suggested it was time to retire. He even gave him an office next to his and appointed him vice president at large, a title that made them both laugh. It was Don who suggested out of the blue that I do a religion website, in the dark ages of the Internet, which sent me careening off on a whole new fulfilling direction in my life. It was Don who, when Ben had been diagnosed with dementia, wanted Ben to keep his office, had lunch with him on a regular basis, and made sure he had the support of everyone on the floor until Ben stopped going in a few months before he died. Don and his wife, Amanda Bennett, have been incredible in their support of me since, taking me to movies and dinner at the lowest moments. Thank you, Don and Amanda, for being extraordinary friends.
Bob Woodward and Elsa Walsh were there for Ben and me and Quinn every step of the way. Bob and Ben developed a father-son relationship during Watergate, which only got stronger as the years went by. Ben loved Bob like a son and was extremely proud of him. Elsa and I became the closest of friends as well. The four of us have spent a lot of time together, vacationing, having dinners, spending every Christmas together, weekends, and just hanging out. Bob and Ben trusted each other completely. They came to see us a lot when Ben was failing, and Ben always lit up when they arrived. Elsa went with me to the funeral home after Ben died to discuss logistics. Their lovely daughter, Diana, is a part of our family. They were the last friends to talk to Ben on his deathbed. Since then they have taken care of Quinn and me with concern and love. I only hope to be as good a friend to them as they have been to us, to me.
I needed one last look at my book before the final edits and that task went to Kevin Sullivan and Mary Jordan, “grande re
porteurs” as Ben would call them, at the Post. Ben hired Mary when she was a mere child. Kevin was Ben’s very last hire. I needed two seasoned, hard-nosed journalists who would tell me the cold hard truth. They did. Because of them I made quite a few important changes that I think make this a better book. (Ev was thrilled.) Kevin and Mary also became very close friends of ours and have traveled with us and hung out with us with their great kids, Kate and Tom, for years. Their laughter and optimism and Irish enthusiasm really carried the three of us through the roughest times, and they have been there for Quinn and me since Ben died.
My sister, Donna Robbins, though in California, was extremely close to Ben, and after his death she took Quinn and me in for Christmas, saving us from an unbearably sad holiday. Donna and her three children, Christopher, Schuyler, and Courtney, were with us that first Christmas without Ben and spent every summer in East Hampton with us during those magical years when we were all healthy and happy. Donna and I have been through all the ups and downs of life together, especially close because as army brats we never lived in any place long enough to put down roots. Donna’s outgoing, energetic, and embracing personality have kept me sane through the years, and I love her very much. The same goes for my brilliant brother, Bill, a practicing Buddhist whose calm and peaceful demeanor always gives me solace.
Ben’s daughter, Marina, has been a part of my life since Ben and I got together, and Marina and I have become very close. Marina was there in the room with us as were her children, Miles and Beth, who came to see Ben at the end. Marina has been lovingly supportive both to Quinn and me throughout this whole time.
Ben’s stepdaughter, Ros Casey, stayed with me in the room with Ben until he died, creating a calm environment when chaos was looming. Ben adored Ros, and her presence was precious to him. She has been a dear friend to me as well over the years.
Greta Williams, and Anna and Joe Bradlee, Ben’s other grandchildren, were among the lights of his life. He adored spending time with them and was so proud of them all. Greta produced his first great-grandchild shortly before he died.
Carol Leggett was Ben’s secretary. Nobody could ever have been more constant, loyal, caring, kind, and devoted than Carol. She protected him from everything and everybody, sometimes including me, especially as he began to fail. Carol, who would have loved to retire, stayed on until Ben died, watching out for him, making him comfortable, taking him to lunch, making him feel appreciated and important. She baked him his favorite blueberry pies until the end. That may have been the last thing he ate. He thought he’d died and gone to heaven. He did.
Friendship is everything and I simply could not have survived without my friends, especially those who looked after Quinn. David and Eve Ignatius were there for us. David even moved his office from the editorial section of the Post up to the ninth floor to be with Ben in his last two years. David is one of Quinn’s new godfathers and has taken his responsibility for Quinn’s welfare to heart. Angus and Sissy Yates have really stepped up to the plate. Angus is another of Quinn’s new godfathers and has taken Quinn to lunch more times than I can count to shore him up after the loss of his father. Lisa and Michael Kelley, who live in St. Mary’s County, have been there for Quinn since Lisa first hired him to work for her as a busboy at the Brome Howard Inn when he was fourteen years old. Lisa has been like a surrogate mother to Quinn and is one of his new godmothers. Lisa has been a strong and loving presence in his life and mine, especially since Ben died. Kyle Gibson, Quinn’s other new godmother, has been close to Quinn since she worked with him on his first book and began visiting him at college. Whenever Quinn became depressed he would call Kyle and she would drop everything to take him out to dinner and listen and give him advice.
Those who were so important to me during all of this time, Eden Rafshoon and Jerry Rafshoon, were close to us since the Carter administration. We spent many wonderful vacations with them, and they spent a lot of time with us during Ben’s final two years when it was difficult for him to socialize. Eden has been a constant friend before, during, and after Ben’s death. I am so grateful for their friendship.
Bo and Bebe Jones had children Quinn’s age, Teddy and Lindsay, and we began vacationing together when the kids were little. Bo was the Post’s general counsel and later publisher and one of Ben’s dearest friends. We spent, and still do spend, every Christmas Eve together and always had a fabulous time together as families. Bebe is an analyst, and her friendship and insights have been especially valuable to me during these past few years. They are and always will be cherished friends.
Paul Richard, the Post art critic and my wise counselor for over forty years, may well have saved the republic with his advice to me during Watergate. His wife, Deborah, and Dorothy Jackson did an exquisite job planning and organizing Ben’s yahrzeit. Shelby and Mary Lee Coffey have been close friends, and Shelby, once the Style editor, has been a dear friend, supporter, and confidant for at least four decades. Michael and Affie Beschloss have been close friends and supporters. Toni and Jamie Goodale have been friends from college, and Toni was on the phone constantly from New York to give words of encouragement. Mary Hadar was a former Style editor and one of Ben’s closest female friends. Mary always made Ben laugh and he loved seeing her, especially in his last days. Pari Bradlee was a constant support throughout, and came over most days (even after she and Quinn had separated) to give Ben a hug and say hi, as we didn’t want to upset him with the news. She has been unbelievably concerned for both of us since Ben died.
I started going to Caroline Casey for astrological readings nearly forty years ago. Caroline is a true intellectual, and her readings have been and still are insightful and illuminating. She has guided me, over this time, toward my North Star. She is funny and compassionate and caring. I also credit her with literally saving Quinn’s life with her reading of his chart before he had heart surgery. She has been dead right about me, about Ben, and especially about Quinn, convincing us that against all odds he would survive and thrive. Which he has. She has never, ever been wrong.
Stephen Muse designed the most beautiful mausoleum ever for Ben at Oak Hill Cemetery. It was a joy to work with Stephen as we had when we renovated our house, Porto Bello, in southern Maryland. Stephen was not just a brilliant architect, the best in Washington, but a kind and compassionate friend who gently got me through such a distressing time.
I would like to thank Tim Shriver, my “spiritual adviser,” for his wise counsel and his advice during the writing of this book. Timmy and his wife, Linda Potter, have been friends for over thirty-five years, and Tim has been a constant supporter of my quest for meaning.
Leon Wieseltier also gave good advice, and his brilliant and erudite conversations helped me in my thinking through a lot of my positions. Mike McCurry was also helpful in talking with me about the religious and political atmosphere in Washington. Frank Foer, over a long lunch, came up with not only the theme of the book but the title: Finding Magic.
Without Mark Tauber, there would be no book. I first met Mark when he was publisher of HarperOne, and we immediately became fast friends. I had just started the Washington Post website blog On Faith. He read a piece I wrote on labyrinths for O magazine, and he suggested I write a spiritual memoir. I wasn’t ready at the time, but he eventually wore me down. Mark believed in me. I signed a contract around the time that Ben began his decline into dementia, but I was incapable of writing anything then. It wasn’t until after Ben died that I realized I had to write my story. Mark was a true mentor, with a deep intelligence and a great sense of humor. He knew exactly what it was that I should write and talked it out of me, always encouraging and enthusiastic. He was the most involved publisher I’ve ever worked with—and the best.
At HarperOne I would like to thank my editor Mickey Maudlin for his enthusiasm, Jan Baumer for her first edits and encouragement, Adrian Morgan for the beautiful cover, Anna Paustenbach for calmly delivering bad news about deadlines, Laurie McGee for copyediting, Trina Hunn for lawyering and
her excitement, Jennifer Jensen for marketing and being on top of it, Noël Chrisman for a truly professional job as production editor, and finally Suzanne Wickham, publicity director, to whom I am now surgically attached. Suzanne was immediately on board, knowledgeable, and plugged in with a lot of great ideas and is fun to work with. She said she could be reached night and day, 24/7, and she wasn’t kidding. To all of you, my thanks.