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14 pages, Audible Audio
Published July 16, 2024
By the time the 1996 Democratic convention came around, we had the first year of George under our belt. From John's perspective, we should really put on the dog, as he used to say. The way that Vanity Fair owns the Oscars, we should own this. We hosted a big party-probably a thousand people-at the Chicago Art Institute, and he was like, Let it rip. We wanna be the hottest ticket in town. I walked in with Kevin Costner, and you couldn't even move. I was wearing a strappy dress, and the next morning I had bruises on my back from people shoving me, trying to get a picture of John. Hillary and Oprah got a photo with John-they had just gotten there-and right behind them were fire marshals coming in to shut it down. We were violating a fire code. Then John left the party, and it was like Elvis has left the building (253).
I met with a psychologist at Columbia who specializes in trauma. Think about the trauma John had - it's not just his father's assassination, five years later it's his uncle who became like a father figure, and shortly after that it's Onassis who also became his stepfather. [In addition, his step-brother Aléxandros Onassis died at the age of 24 in the same manner John's life would be so suddenly cut short - a plane crash.] All by the time he's fourteen. The trauma is compounded by the fact that they were moving all the time. John leaves the only house he knew, the White House. They moved to one place in Washington, another place in Washington, and then to New York. A year after his father's assassination, John lived in four different houses. And then the Secret Service themselves are a constant reminder of what happened to his father - and that his own life might be in danger. The psychologist said one of the ways that people respond to that type of trauma is to seek out danger. They are thrill seekers because they realize life could be snuffed out at any moment, so they want to live their life to the fullest. But also, they're like a moth to a candle. They're drawn to danger and the possibility of further trauma. I'm not psychoanalyzing John, but it makes sense to me (307-308)..
He was forgetful about things, constantly leaving things places. The security guys were always picking up after him. "Where's your bag, John?" He'd go and play in the courtyard, a favorite thing to do, and he'd leave his stuff there. Kids are always leaving pens around. What pen do you think he left around? A Montblanc. What kid leaves a Montblanc? There's no cap. Just the pen. That's how he was (44)..
But I really cannot muster an ill word about that guy. Okay, he left shit in taxicabs. God knows how many bicycles that guy owned and lost, God knows how many cars were stolen or wound up in impoundment or that sort of absent-minded thing that was a big part of him. Not that those things aren't substantial. But where the rubber hit the road in terms of the way John treated other people, in terms of what John was willing to do for other people, I mean, he was as good a man as I've ever known (395).
My mother would always have a heart attack when John came over to our place. Not because she gave a shit about his fame, but because invariably he would break something. I remember once the house had just been painted and he sat on one of the windowsills and got upset because his pants and sweater were ruined. My mother was upset because the paint was ruined. Another time he broke the chandelier with his tennis racket. Every time he came over there was something. John was an accident waiting to happen (51).
I was like, "Man, you take death better than anybody I know. How do you do it?" And he said something like "Because we have suffered so much death, I learned. I trained myself to never wallow." I think that's why he never commemorated anniversaries of assassinations or deaths. Only birthdays. His constant mantra on death was I cannot let it get to me. And he didn't (297).
It was always rather comical when John-John would holler to his dad [as he left for the office every morning]. "Don't leave me," he said. "We've got to go to work." The president would call back and tell him,"Come on, let's go to work." And John-John would come down in his pajamas and bathrobe and of course, I'd come out to the door. I'd follow them to the office, to bring him back. That was a lot of fun (5).
John was the first up every morning, by seven. He was always looking for his breakfast. And he loved the kitchen. He loved to cook. Making pancakes. Oh, what a mess. He'd put on a cook's apron and a big chef's hat. And he'd stand up on a chair because he couldn't reach the table, and he'd be mixing away and putting it in the pan (26).
John got into food fights from time to time. Once, he threw ice cream at somebody. Some of it hit me and I turned and glared at him. And then he said, "Wait a minute." And he took some ice cream and just put it on his head, completely defusing the situation and making everybody laugh. That's the type of person he was. Very self-effacing, down-to-earth (42).
John was happy during his Collegiate years. Just one of the boys running down the hall with his shirttail out, that mop of hair, laughing, yelling, and free. We loved him and we loved each other. He turned from a little boy into a young man. Smoked cigs, smoked pot, met girls. It was so normal, as normal as it could be. It can still make me cry (57).
I never met anyone who read so voraciously or constantly. When John slept over, one of his best friends...lined up cereal boxes on the breakfast table so that John, once he finished consuming three morning papers, would have something to read. He was so thirsty for knowledge, we joked he was completely indiscriminate about what he read, as long as he was reading...If I had one word to describe John, it would be "curious" (154-155).
One time I was meeting John for dinner at Shun Lee, the so-called best Chinese restaurant in Manhattan, to talk about our projects. John comes in and he's got paint all over his hands. I go,"John, what's with the paint?" He says that he's just come from his sister Caroline's house and he was playing with Tatiana and Rose on the floor with finger paints. It was just typical John - so happy on the floor with his nieces, playing with paint. But also, he didn't go wash it off. He just comes to the restaurant with child's paint all over his hands (304).
Carolyn had taken scuba diving lessons so she could go on trips with him. She went ice climbing with him in New Hampshire or Maine and she said it was fucking scary. She said, "I'm never doing it again." She felt he took it all for granted. She was looking for him to say, Hey,you gave it a shot. And that was the crux of their problems. I gave up my whole life and have tried to assimilate to your lifestyle -- and it was like, Yeah, so? Like it was never enough. She'd say,"There is no money in the bank with John" (322).
Carolyn was sort of my heroine, role model, mom. My dad would always plan our trips for when John was out of town so that my sisters and I could go live with Carolyn. I would sleep with her - she would always say, "Okay, you're gonna be right here with me." They had that huge bed in the master bedroom. It felt like an ocean because I was so little - I'd never seen a California King bed before. Here's this bed and it's like an entire room. The bathtub was a swimming pool. It was awesome. We would get in bed and she would get up and get a banana in the middle of the night and I would chase her back over to the other side and she'd say, "I've never quite had anybody chase me around a bed before." I would call her on the phone from Wyoming. Often when I would have these emotional fluctuations I would wanna go to her because she understood. One of my best friends was a bully and I called Carolyn and I was in tears. She said, "When I was your age, I was very similar. I was very sensitive and a lot of people didn't understand me. And I was being bullied." She said, "The best thing I ended up realizing is that I am unique and these girls are gonna stay in this town forever, but I'm going to be able to leave because I am different. So the best thing you could possibly do is tell them that they're little bitches and walk away" (319).
We would go to the beach on the Vineyard. Carolyn was super sweet, super affectionate with us. John was running around - he wasn't one to sit down too much. I remember Carolyn as more of a sensation. She was squeezing and hugging us a lot. So affectionate that it drove me crazy a little bit. I was like, Gee. My dad wouldn't just get us a toy if we asked him out of the blue, but she spoiled us. I remember a plastic bumblebee on a stick that would spin in the wind. My sister, Livi, and I each got a different color. Carolyn's long, long blond hair was sort of wispy and it would blow around.... (320)..