Joan Juliet Buck
1. My Polartec fleece hoodies from Patagonia, made three years ago, cut like something from Europe – i.e., they fit. I have them in black, and black, and black, and black, and pale blue for sleeping, with the hood up. I also own a few in a strange shade of mushroom that mainly say, “I am not wearing a black hoodie today.” I wear them to exercise, to write in with the hood up, to walk, to rehearse, to lunch, to ride on planes and trains. I keep a nice new one for dinners – that one never gets washed. It gets dry-cleaned so that it keeps its original soft pile. The rest are pilled and quite scary, but Patagonia only ever made one that actually fit.
2. My felt tip Pentel sign pens in black.
3. My tiny black nylon bag from Prada. It is smaller than a paperback, and holds everything I need. It’s so much a part of me that I wear it every day and every evening, to the horror of some fashion insiders. Why change bags to carry a monster out-of-date status symbol that weighs twelve pounds and says Snatch Me!, and then an evening clutch that won’t fit on a table and will be sad on a floor?
4. Shoes from Harry’s shoes. They don’t hurt.
5. Notebooks. Rhodia or Clairefontaine.
1. My daughter. I am always better after hearing from her in any form. E-mail. Phone. Person.
2. My husband of ten years, Marsharoo, on whom I am increasingly dependent.
3. My dogs, Jerry and Phyllis. Who make me laugh and give love and comfort.
4. My blessed BlackBerry on which I do everything and lose and drop regularly.
5. My iPad on which I compulsively play Boggle till 2:00 AM.
1. My hubby, I love my time with him wherever we are.
2. My work, I love the craft of it. I’ll never retire.
3. My family, the love, the loyalty, our shared sense of humor.
4. My pals, can’t live without their wisdom, their shoulders and all the laughs.
5. My assistant, she’s not just my right hand, she’s my right brain.
Joan Ganz Cooney
My husband and grandchildren
My closest friends
Despite my love-hate relationship with new technology, e-mail and Google
My old-fashioned daily newspapers: NY Times, Washington Post, NY Post and a glance-through of the Wall Street Journal
1. Time with my godchild, Spencer, age 12.
2. Books, books, books – magazines and periodicals I can hold in my hand. These are my drugs. Historical novels, thrillers, history itself, works by Harold Bloom, celebrity dissections, great biography, discussions on politics.
3. Tweezerman tweezers (the best ever made) and a small magnifying mirror.
4. Number 702 Revlon “blase apricot” lipsticks.
5. Commercial candy and such crap – Snickers, Mars bars, Mr. Goodbar, Butterfingers, peanut brittle and popcorn.
1. I can’t even imagine life without my two daughters and their families.
2. I have friends I love dearly and need in order to be happy and healthy and probably sane.
3. I need life to be full of stimulating new ideas from anywhere, anyone, anytime.
4. My energy. I count on it.
5. My BlackBerry is plugged into my eyes and ears and brain cells.
Confession: I punted on wOw’s question of the week about which five things – things, as Joan Juliet Buck pointed out, not people, pets, places, but things – I wouldn’t want to live without. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about it. I feel like I’ve been living it for the past month. Click here to read the rest of Jean’s answer.