I may not have a pencil, but I’ve still got plenty of lead.
I also have more time for the things I love: Going to museums and country inns with John. Picking cherry tomatoes, arugula, and basil with the girls and whipping up a summer feast. Clipping dahlias the size of my head and arranging them in antique glass bottles.
Sometimes I’ll post a video on Instagram of me showing off my garden’s bounty—makeup-free, bedhead, still in my pajamas.
Once someone commented, “Wow, she got old.”
And all I could think was Aren’t I lucky?
Epilogue
Dear Katie,
Tomorrow will be the third anniversary of Jay’s death—a time of sadness for all of us, especially you. Time heals and diminishes grief but the period is much longer and more intense when death comes to a young person, and, even more so, to a spouse. Your mother and I send our loving sympathy.
You have done a marvelous job of not letting your sadness hinder you in any of the duties which you now must carry out alone. You have two beautiful, intelligent and loving daughters and every day they continue to grow in mind and spirit—a reflection of your own personality and rectitude.
And your tough mindedness in navigating your career through the quagmire and land mines of the network environment also is admirable.
But enough of this pompous talk. Your mother and I love and admire you most of all because you remain wise, sensitive, righteous, beautiful, and because you adhere to a policy of Illegitimi non carborundum （Don’t let the bastards grind you down）。
Smaht and purty, too.
Your appreciative father, JMC
Acknowledgments
Writing this book—excavating my life, reliving it, and mining it for meaning—has been one of the most challenging and gratifying things I’ve ever done. The pandemic felt a lot less lonely with my trusty iPad always waiting for me （if I could remember where I put it）， welcoming my latest thoughts, memories, and dreams.
But what truly made this possible were/are two amazing women:
First, my collaborator, Lucy Kaylin. To say we’ve grown close through this multiyear process is an understatement. The late-night anxiety calls and early-morning check-ins; the constant Zooms; Lucy’s Socratic lines of questioning that always pushed me to think deeper about my life and find the courage to, yes, go there. Then there were the etymological debates over things like the pronunciation of dour （she says do-er and I say dow-er）， jury-rigged versus jerry-rigged.…I relished having found someone who gets as excited about words as I do （even though she did once accuse me of being an “infinitive splitter”）。 Lucy is one of the hardest-working, most hyper-focused, and most talented people I’ve ever met, and she never wavered in her commitment to helping me tell my story. And it was so rewarding to share and analyze our experiences as two women who came up through the ranks of media at roughly the same time. Lucy, you have found in me a friend for life. I’m confident I’ve found the same in you.
I met Adriana Fazio in the fall of 2018, her last year at Notre Dame, when she came to interview me about her thesis: “Katie Couric’s Career and Shifting Perceptions of Femininity in Broadcast Journalism.” Once I got past feeling flattered, I quickly realized that Adriana knew more about me than I did, and I hired her to help me with this book. Immediately, she proved to be irreplaceable—the third leg of our very sturdy stool. Not only is she a crack researcher, but she is organized, whip-smart, and indefatigable, somehow tracking down every interview, letter, photo, and speech. Then, when I was hit with the dual pressures of a deadline and a lockdown, she became another member of the family to help me round the clock. Adriana is wise beyond her years, and her editorial input was invaluable. She is a joy to work with—and live with—and I can’t wait to see what she does （hopefully with me） next.
Lucy, Adriana, and I spent countless—and I mean countless—hours around dining-room tables in East Hampton and New York City, typically in our pajamas, barely lifting our noses from our laptops long enough to have a bite of a bagel. We’ve seen the seasons change together more times than we ever imagined. Thanking you both from the bottom of my heart is woefully insufficient. You ladies are the best.
Now, for the man in my life, John Molner. When I’d get nervous about how candid I was being, he’d set me straight by saying, “If you’re not going to be honest, don’t write a book.” He is my steadfast, trusted partner in all things. I’m so grateful for his love, his wicked sense of humor, and his tolerance of my whirling dervish ways. John （mostly） cheerfully put up with our aforementioned dining-room tables piled high with the detritus of my life and multiple pairs of reading glasses. No wonder so many of my followers on Instagram （hopefully the single ones） want to clone him. John is a big reason I feel so lucky.