I have spent my entire life trying to leave no evidence behind me as I was getting into good trouble. I hope to be a mystery. My last three driver's license photos have been great, so maybe that's how the world will know me. But that one mug shot looked good, too.
E. Jean you look fabulous. A true inspiration for keeping the complexion fresh and the hair simple. Love you!
There was lots of trudging along in between some dazzling moments. The trudge has managed to be fun most of the time. Learning to enjoy the slog has been maybe the most dazzling thing ever. One of the reasons I always loved the Ask E. Jean column is because you taught me to stay amused and view my life with lots of exclamation points!!!! I needed a cheerleader and I loved the way you cheered women on!
Up in the attic are letters from my old boyfriends. I grew up in the age of disco, and I loved to dance. Plus, I was boy-crazy. My husband is the 27th guy I ever dated. I used to keep a list...and when I had to sit home on a Saturday night, I'll pull out the list and say, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Look at all these guys you've dated."...As far as a cover to a biography, probably the sweetest photo is my third grade class posing with my husband and me on the steps of the church the day we got married. They all came to see their teacher get married. It's my favorite picture!
Lorraine, I still have the list. I was not in long-term relationships with most of the guys. And seeing their names today, I still don't remember them. But I do remember anyone I dated for a few months.
There is footage of me in the ORIGINAL The Producers film as the BeerStein Showgirl. If I were to win a Pulitzer Prize and maybe the Nobel Peace Prize, people would still be more impressed by this bit of footage.
And yes, I definitely wear makeup and am glad of it! For me, to go out without a touch of makeup enhancement is like going out without brushing my teeth or combing my hair.
When I think of your question, it brings to mind the photographs of my best friend and I getting into all kinds of good trouble. Photos of us in Ally shirts at Pride here in Central Kentucky every June. Protesting the first circus that was dumptruck's first go around, which looking back was a tea party with the queen compared to the shitshow we have now. Jeez. We had a little group we called the Resister Sisters and we were everywhere, all the time. My best friend passed away from liver cancer in December of 2022 and we lost another wonderful member to a massive stroke. She is in a nursing home now and her HUGE, beautiful brain is just gone. So, all melancholy. But I like to think Alice and Joell can see me now and are proud that I am not shutting up and am looking for good, necessary trouble wherever it may be found. That's what I would like my biographers to say about me. And they can use one of the Pride photos for the cover, because that's who I am.
Well, considering I'm going to write an autobiography, I get to choose whatever I want. There are no videos but I do have a collection of photos from every aspect of my childhood and life. What I will put on the cover of my autobiography is a photo snapped by a Naval officer of me, getting into an official Navy vehicle, my uniform skirt flying up enough to show a peak of my white lace garter holding up my silk stocking. I was wearing Whites that day and had attended a meeting at Pearl Harbor. I used to wear sexy lingerie under my uniforms as a way to rebel. I loved it!
I haven't worn makeup since I retired from the Navy. I ended up going to a Black woman dermatologist for a skin problem... turns out I'm allergic to just about ever chemical used in facial cleansers, moisturizers, makeup, etc. that must pass the FDA's strict rules. This means no preservatives or acids or cetearyl alcohols or sodium laureth sulfates. I use organic cleansers and toners... that's it. My only vice is red lipstick; I use one by Christian Dior. As it happens, my late mother (she died three weeks ago, God rest her wonderful soul) had excellent genes and passed them on to me so, as we like to say, "Black don't crack!" Makeup and bras are no longer in my repertoire when I step outside my door. This is the cool thing about being a Queenager.
Patrice, I am so, so sad to hear about your mother! The Empress! My Gawd! What a woman! I feel I have gotten to know her a little through your essays. I know how wonderfully close you were!
I lost my mother more than 20 years ago, and it sure sucked. But just a month or so ago, I suddenly had an amazing memory of her. During the 1960 election--JFK versus Nixon--she took me with her to vote. My memory of the polls was that it felt something like a church--a place where important rituals take place.
In the polls, I asked my mother who she was voting for. I suspect I knew damn well JFK, but I think I may have been interested in who she was voting for for governor. the GOP candidate was a bad person, something of which I was well aware.
My mother gently told me that we were not supposed to talk about who we were voting for at the polls, because that could influence other people, and that was not a good thing to do.
I'm hoping some of what I'm recounting might jog for you some good memories of your mother that will give you a sense of your mother's presence--maybe some stories you can tell. If she was the queen of your family, there must be some good, maybe even great stories, that will make her come alive again for your friends, and maybe even for you.
My mom was an integral part of my life up until she died (it's now been four weeks). The first memory I have of her is when I was three years old. We were on a plane heading to Alaska; my father was an Army officer so headed to a duty station near Point Barrow. She was taking me to the bathroom. I was a social kid, at the time, so waved at people as we moved down the aisle.
Because we traveled so much, she was all about culture. I did ballet from age five to 12. I played the piano from age six to 18. No matter where we went, she always found piano teachers for us. She taught me to read when I was four, which began a lifelong love affair with books. Books are one of my drugs of choice because of her. She taught me to cook, knit and crochet at age nine; I cooked my first meal at that age, by myself. I love to cook, knit, crochet, sew and weave from her.
She was also super intelligent. She skipped two grades in high school to go to college at 16. She obtained her BSN and then went to Columbia in New York for a double Master's in Nursing and Education. Imagine, a young Black woman, in the 1950s, having such adventures, particularly coming from a state that was locked in civil rights struggles.
What made her a Queen, in my eyes, was how she went to bat for me and my siblings. I could always depend on her to watch my back. She was my original ride or die chick! In 1967, we were living in Gardena, CA, in an integrated neighborhood. My parents chose it because of the school my sister and I would be attending. Overnight, they did some re-districting so that my sister and I would have to attend a segregated school, hell and gone from us, in Compton. The bus ride to school took 50 minutes. I have very sharp memories of that school because it was so horrible. My sister and I would hide in the girl's restroom to avoid getting beat up on the asphalt playground. For some reason, I decided to play with a friend one day; long story short, got beat up by a little boy who managed to break two of my fingers. When my mom saw this, she became the female version of the Black Hulk. She went to the school, got in the principal's face (mind you, she was 5' 2" and petite while he was like built Isaac Hayes, with the shaved head and everything), threatened to do some bodily harm unless he released our transcripts so we could go to this other school. He was actually scared of her!!! My sister and I looked at her like she was Wonder Woman! She saved us and got us to the school we should have been in by a little political trickery. She would always swing in to save the day, no matter what.
Even when I was in the Navy, she was always there to support me. At every duty station to which I was assigned, she would visit me. She always cheered me on with every achievement! Our relationship became super close during my adulthood; she was my built-in best friend. I came to depend on her very much for my mental health because she was not only a mental health professional (psychiatric nurse) but she was my mother in the truest sense.
She'll always be alive, in my heart. What breaks it is that I won't hear her voice, live, again. I can't hug her and smell her perfume or hear her cowboy boots clicking on the sidewalk as we walk together. I won't be able to do her hair, which she loved. And she is no longer here to dispense advice to her many friends. I have talked about her so much, my friends know her. I imagine that at her interment, at Arlington National Cemetery (she will be buried with my father there), it will be well-attended by her friends and mine. She told me she was ready to go and, though I wasn't ready for her to go, I never said anything. She knew though. She told me she was worried about me the most because of our bond. I'm also the eldest of my siblings. I've been keeping it together, thanks to my husband and my best friends. They are ride or die too, which is nice to have at a time like this.
I could write a whole book on her, from my point of view. People would probably think a lot of it was hyperbole but all of what she was and did was true. My mom was an original.
Your mother was and is a Queen--no doubt about it after reading what you've written about her here. But it sounds like--between your husband and your best friends, you've got a powerful social circle, and undoubtedly your mother is at least partly responsible for your having such ties, at least in the way she raised you, but you know exactly what better than I.
Sounds like you inherited a lot of her intelligence.
And, yes, books are my drug of choice. I highly recommend Tribe, by Sebastian Junger. It's about how people can accomplish so much more when they work together during a crisis than at other times, and how they feel so much better when they work together in this way. It's probably around a two hour read, and you'll be sorry when you get to the end.
Once you've read it, I recommend Endurance, by Alfred Lansing, which is all about how Ernest Shackleton and his men--all 28 or 29 of them--made it back to civilization after Antarctic ice trapped their boat, and spat it out in pieces.
The 28 or 29 of them spent 15 months making their way from Antarctica back to civilization, among other things, sailing the lifeboats through the worst waters on the planet. Even the guy who had the heart attack made it back!
Anyway, I know your mother is still watching over you, and I'm glad I read what you wrote about her. Maybe our mothers are friends in the afterlife. I know my mother would be proud to have your mother as a friend.
During the 1960s, I straightened my shoulder length hair, wore bangs down to my eyelids, dangling pendant earrings and painted my huge eyes like Cleopatra as I danced to Beatles records.
In the late 1970s, wore my hair in shaggy layers, sprayed glitter on my face and brushed gold eyeshadow on my disco outings...
All that cooled down in the '90s as I reached the age of accepting individuality, Independence and natural ageing.
Now, it's occasional tinges of color on lips, cheeks and lids, as my grey mane waves naturally, free and very me.
The cover of this story... A three sided face from those three eras... or, the 'Three Phases of J. Rose'!
They don’t make anything like they used to. Stupid planned obsolescence. I’ve found Lady Gaga has a great line of blush. I pair that with cheap mascara from walgreens/target. Rarely any eye shadow or foundation. It’s a great way to save time and money. The pandemic cut back on how often I use makeup because everyone had to mask.
When distinguished biographers root through my archives, they’ll find a wild, windswept tapestry of a life lived full-throttle — behind the camera, on mountain bikes, under waterfalls, in editing bays, and deep in the Green Closet (until I busted out in 2017).
They’ll unearth footage from Full Cycle: A World Odyssey (yes, I rode my mountain bike in the shadow of Everest), and NECTARBALL: The Story of Cannabis, a doc that took seven years and five countries to make. They’ll find letters to collaborators, where I wrestled with art and ethics, books of my hand-written poetry, journals (my own and my mother's), and song drafts where I rhymed about death, war, love, and longing — like in “Death is a Lady” or “Somewhere a Woman.”
There’ll be photos of me and my beloved Mark — lovers and creative partners for 43 years — and a VHS gem called California Big Hunks, which I wrote and co-produced (and yes, that one’s had quite a resurgence lately).
As for the cover of my future biography? I imagine a black-and-white shot: I’m behind a tripod in the early 1980s, smiling into the wind, sunflare kissing my shoulder, reaching to adjust the lens. The title? Through the Lens: The Life and Light of Patty Mooney.
Because that’s what it’s been. A lens. A light. And a hell of a ride.
I have an amazing archive of films, books, and objets d'arts, but the most important objects I own are a fork, a spoon, and a butter dish. These were all gifts loaned to me that I have kept because I love the people who loaned them to me so much.
The cover would be a photograph of a tree I planted in my mom's honor when she died. It is a beautiful jacaranda. My goal in life has been to honor and recognize people and places who make this human experience better.
E. Jean, it is so wonderful to hear your voice and see you. You are such a great presence and help me through this world.
I stopped regularly wearing make up after I did an ethnography on Mary Kay Cosmetics in the 90s. They put make up on you at each of their events, and it eventually was too much for me. I call it "war paint" and use it only for encounters where I need a little courage.
Good to know that Simone de B used this term. My father used it for me in the 1960's when I returned home to conservative Toronto with false eyelashes and painted on Twiggies and more. But it wasn't a compliment!
yes, that's my favorite term for it too, and I learned that term in France also, from a male work colleague: "peinture de guerre" is war paint in French 🙂
I’m like the first commenter: I’ve had a below the radar personal life. I learned to keep my business to myself when I was young and when I became a lawyer I learned what not to say, even beyond holding confidentiality. Most people are supremely incurious about anyone other than themselves or their current crush. I like having secrets. I’ve left no trail at all.
Wow! Interesting question. I lost everything but 2 sewing machines, some old ratty sweats, a trench coat, leopard print scarf, old tired sneakers, and 2 plastic tote boxes of important papers in the Eaton Fire, so my physical memorabilia is no more. I do however see this as a fresh start and I’m tuned into the miracles that have been part of my life since January 7, 2025 when I drove away assuming I was far enough away, I could come get anything I needed the next day. I think my next chapter that I’m emerging into now will be the most interesting one and I’m not yet sure exactly what it will be. I do look forward to reading other conflabians’s stories.
When I’m gone, a biographer will find a cigarette in a glass tube labeled “Break in case of emergency,” a monogrammed flask (empty, obviously), and ten copies of my book “In No Particular Order”—just in case my grandchildren ever wonder where the mental illness in our family came from.
They won’t need to dig. I left the breadcrumbs in print. Loud ones.
Title suggestion: Zee Zee: She Left Instructions, Not Apologies.
Please buy my book. I need the money. All short stories for the average bathroom break, full of enough smut to make Gramma clutch her pearls.
I do not wear makeup at all. When I was in 7th grade, I put foundation on my face in the morning and wiped it off on my school shirt in class. That was the end of me wearing makeup.
E Jean, you look great in the video! 😃
Biographers would say that I was Resourceful, Crazy, and Determined.
I totally am ungirly when it comes to clothes and shoes, but I love lipstick! I love mascara! I love skin creams! I color my hair! I think sometimes just putting on blue nail polish brightens my day. PS, E. Jean, you are so, so gorgeous.
I wear makeup every day even to go to the end of the cul-de-sac to get my mail. I've been performing my whole life even as a child just to survive. In fact, the cover will say, "She Survived It All and Kept on Singing".
I have spent my entire life trying to leave no evidence behind me as I was getting into good trouble. I hope to be a mystery. My last three driver's license photos have been great, so maybe that's how the world will know me. But that one mug shot looked good, too.
E. Jean you look fabulous. A true inspiration for keeping the complexion fresh and the hair simple. Love you!
Actually, Gayle, you have "spent your entire life" being dazzlingly brilliant!!!
There was lots of trudging along in between some dazzling moments. The trudge has managed to be fun most of the time. Learning to enjoy the slog has been maybe the most dazzling thing ever. One of the reasons I always loved the Ask E. Jean column is because you taught me to stay amused and view my life with lots of exclamation points!!!! I needed a cheerleader and I loved the way you cheered women on!
!!!!!!!!!!!
I hardly wear makeup any more - only for special occasions. Like Pamela Anderson without the paycheck.
Egggggzactly, Laura!
Up in the attic are letters from my old boyfriends. I grew up in the age of disco, and I loved to dance. Plus, I was boy-crazy. My husband is the 27th guy I ever dated. I used to keep a list...and when I had to sit home on a Saturday night, I'll pull out the list and say, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Look at all these guys you've dated."...As far as a cover to a biography, probably the sweetest photo is my third grade class posing with my husband and me on the steps of the church the day we got married. They all came to see their teacher get married. It's my favorite picture!
The magic 27!!!!!
I love that your "kids" came to see you get married! Don't you know that was the highlight of their lives that year?!
Thanks, Alicia!
Impressive you remember every person you dated, Kathy! Wow!
Lorraine, I still have the list. I was not in long-term relationships with most of the guys. And seeing their names today, I still don't remember them. But I do remember anyone I dated for a few months.
Haha
I love that the kids were at your wedding.
me too. that's just adorable! 🥰
There is footage of me in the ORIGINAL The Producers film as the BeerStein Showgirl. If I were to win a Pulitzer Prize and maybe the Nobel Peace Prize, people would still be more impressed by this bit of footage.
And yes, I definitely wear makeup and am glad of it! For me, to go out without a touch of makeup enhancement is like going out without brushing my teeth or combing my hair.
WOW!!!!
You and my Ma. She would not leave the house without "her eyebrows."
When I think of your question, it brings to mind the photographs of my best friend and I getting into all kinds of good trouble. Photos of us in Ally shirts at Pride here in Central Kentucky every June. Protesting the first circus that was dumptruck's first go around, which looking back was a tea party with the queen compared to the shitshow we have now. Jeez. We had a little group we called the Resister Sisters and we were everywhere, all the time. My best friend passed away from liver cancer in December of 2022 and we lost another wonderful member to a massive stroke. She is in a nursing home now and her HUGE, beautiful brain is just gone. So, all melancholy. But I like to think Alice and Joell can see me now and are proud that I am not shutting up and am looking for good, necessary trouble wherever it may be found. That's what I would like my biographers to say about me. And they can use one of the Pride photos for the cover, because that's who I am.
Awww, Nancy. Alas.
But "not shutting up and looking good" reigns on earth and with Alice and Joell in heaven!!
Yes, ma’am! Necessary trouble.
Well, considering I'm going to write an autobiography, I get to choose whatever I want. There are no videos but I do have a collection of photos from every aspect of my childhood and life. What I will put on the cover of my autobiography is a photo snapped by a Naval officer of me, getting into an official Navy vehicle, my uniform skirt flying up enough to show a peak of my white lace garter holding up my silk stocking. I was wearing Whites that day and had attended a meeting at Pearl Harbor. I used to wear sexy lingerie under my uniforms as a way to rebel. I loved it!
I haven't worn makeup since I retired from the Navy. I ended up going to a Black woman dermatologist for a skin problem... turns out I'm allergic to just about ever chemical used in facial cleansers, moisturizers, makeup, etc. that must pass the FDA's strict rules. This means no preservatives or acids or cetearyl alcohols or sodium laureth sulfates. I use organic cleansers and toners... that's it. My only vice is red lipstick; I use one by Christian Dior. As it happens, my late mother (she died three weeks ago, God rest her wonderful soul) had excellent genes and passed them on to me so, as we like to say, "Black don't crack!" Makeup and bras are no longer in my repertoire when I step outside my door. This is the cool thing about being a Queenager.
Patrice, I am so, so sad to hear about your mother! The Empress! My Gawd! What a woman! I feel I have gotten to know her a little through your essays. I know how wonderfully close you were!
P.S. I am loving the cover of your book.
Thank you. I am heartbroken but sailoring on. She was the Queen in our family and without her presence, the world just sucks even more.
I lost my mother more than 20 years ago, and it sure sucked. But just a month or so ago, I suddenly had an amazing memory of her. During the 1960 election--JFK versus Nixon--she took me with her to vote. My memory of the polls was that it felt something like a church--a place where important rituals take place.
In the polls, I asked my mother who she was voting for. I suspect I knew damn well JFK, but I think I may have been interested in who she was voting for for governor. the GOP candidate was a bad person, something of which I was well aware.
My mother gently told me that we were not supposed to talk about who we were voting for at the polls, because that could influence other people, and that was not a good thing to do.
She also took me on a long walk around the neighborhood when I was not quite three. I wrote a story about that, and in the process of writing that story, I came to understand her much better than I had, and I felt closer to her after that. https://www.csmonitor.com/The-Culture/The-home-forum/2020/0805/heeding-her-invitation-six-decades-later
I'm hoping some of what I'm recounting might jog for you some good memories of your mother that will give you a sense of your mother's presence--maybe some stories you can tell. If she was the queen of your family, there must be some good, maybe even great stories, that will make her come alive again for your friends, and maybe even for you.
I'd love to hear them, or read them!
My mom was an integral part of my life up until she died (it's now been four weeks). The first memory I have of her is when I was three years old. We were on a plane heading to Alaska; my father was an Army officer so headed to a duty station near Point Barrow. She was taking me to the bathroom. I was a social kid, at the time, so waved at people as we moved down the aisle.
Because we traveled so much, she was all about culture. I did ballet from age five to 12. I played the piano from age six to 18. No matter where we went, she always found piano teachers for us. She taught me to read when I was four, which began a lifelong love affair with books. Books are one of my drugs of choice because of her. She taught me to cook, knit and crochet at age nine; I cooked my first meal at that age, by myself. I love to cook, knit, crochet, sew and weave from her.
She was also super intelligent. She skipped two grades in high school to go to college at 16. She obtained her BSN and then went to Columbia in New York for a double Master's in Nursing and Education. Imagine, a young Black woman, in the 1950s, having such adventures, particularly coming from a state that was locked in civil rights struggles.
What made her a Queen, in my eyes, was how she went to bat for me and my siblings. I could always depend on her to watch my back. She was my original ride or die chick! In 1967, we were living in Gardena, CA, in an integrated neighborhood. My parents chose it because of the school my sister and I would be attending. Overnight, they did some re-districting so that my sister and I would have to attend a segregated school, hell and gone from us, in Compton. The bus ride to school took 50 minutes. I have very sharp memories of that school because it was so horrible. My sister and I would hide in the girl's restroom to avoid getting beat up on the asphalt playground. For some reason, I decided to play with a friend one day; long story short, got beat up by a little boy who managed to break two of my fingers. When my mom saw this, she became the female version of the Black Hulk. She went to the school, got in the principal's face (mind you, she was 5' 2" and petite while he was like built Isaac Hayes, with the shaved head and everything), threatened to do some bodily harm unless he released our transcripts so we could go to this other school. He was actually scared of her!!! My sister and I looked at her like she was Wonder Woman! She saved us and got us to the school we should have been in by a little political trickery. She would always swing in to save the day, no matter what.
Even when I was in the Navy, she was always there to support me. At every duty station to which I was assigned, she would visit me. She always cheered me on with every achievement! Our relationship became super close during my adulthood; she was my built-in best friend. I came to depend on her very much for my mental health because she was not only a mental health professional (psychiatric nurse) but she was my mother in the truest sense.
She'll always be alive, in my heart. What breaks it is that I won't hear her voice, live, again. I can't hug her and smell her perfume or hear her cowboy boots clicking on the sidewalk as we walk together. I won't be able to do her hair, which she loved. And she is no longer here to dispense advice to her many friends. I have talked about her so much, my friends know her. I imagine that at her interment, at Arlington National Cemetery (she will be buried with my father there), it will be well-attended by her friends and mine. She told me she was ready to go and, though I wasn't ready for her to go, I never said anything. She knew though. She told me she was worried about me the most because of our bond. I'm also the eldest of my siblings. I've been keeping it together, thanks to my husband and my best friends. They are ride or die too, which is nice to have at a time like this.
I could write a whole book on her, from my point of view. People would probably think a lot of it was hyperbole but all of what she was and did was true. My mom was an original.
Your mother was and is a Queen--no doubt about it after reading what you've written about her here. But it sounds like--between your husband and your best friends, you've got a powerful social circle, and undoubtedly your mother is at least partly responsible for your having such ties, at least in the way she raised you, but you know exactly what better than I.
Sounds like you inherited a lot of her intelligence.
And, yes, books are my drug of choice. I highly recommend Tribe, by Sebastian Junger. It's about how people can accomplish so much more when they work together during a crisis than at other times, and how they feel so much better when they work together in this way. It's probably around a two hour read, and you'll be sorry when you get to the end.
Once you've read it, I recommend Endurance, by Alfred Lansing, which is all about how Ernest Shackleton and his men--all 28 or 29 of them--made it back to civilization after Antarctic ice trapped their boat, and spat it out in pieces.
The 28 or 29 of them spent 15 months making their way from Antarctica back to civilization, among other things, sailing the lifeboats through the worst waters on the planet. Even the guy who had the heart attack made it back!
Anyway, I know your mother is still watching over you, and I'm glad I read what you wrote about her. Maybe our mothers are friends in the afterlife. I know my mother would be proud to have your mother as a friend.
--David
During the 1960s, I straightened my shoulder length hair, wore bangs down to my eyelids, dangling pendant earrings and painted my huge eyes like Cleopatra as I danced to Beatles records.
In the late 1970s, wore my hair in shaggy layers, sprayed glitter on my face and brushed gold eyeshadow on my disco outings...
All that cooled down in the '90s as I reached the age of accepting individuality, Independence and natural ageing.
Now, it's occasional tinges of color on lips, cheeks and lids, as my grey mane waves naturally, free and very me.
The cover of this story... A three sided face from those three eras... or, the 'Three Phases of J. Rose'!
J. Rose! I am in the middle of ordering eyeliner! They do not make 'em like they used to.....those soft kohl liners so black so devastating.
They don’t make anything like they used to. Stupid planned obsolescence. I’ve found Lady Gaga has a great line of blush. I pair that with cheap mascara from walgreens/target. Rarely any eye shadow or foundation. It’s a great way to save time and money. The pandemic cut back on how often I use makeup because everyone had to mask.
E. Jean, I swear by permanent eyeliner and lip color. I got perma-eyeliner for my mom (who's probably reading this) and she loves it too!
Oh E. Jean, what a delicious question!
When distinguished biographers root through my archives, they’ll find a wild, windswept tapestry of a life lived full-throttle — behind the camera, on mountain bikes, under waterfalls, in editing bays, and deep in the Green Closet (until I busted out in 2017).
They’ll unearth footage from Full Cycle: A World Odyssey (yes, I rode my mountain bike in the shadow of Everest), and NECTARBALL: The Story of Cannabis, a doc that took seven years and five countries to make. They’ll find letters to collaborators, where I wrestled with art and ethics, books of my hand-written poetry, journals (my own and my mother's), and song drafts where I rhymed about death, war, love, and longing — like in “Death is a Lady” or “Somewhere a Woman.”
There’ll be photos of me and my beloved Mark — lovers and creative partners for 43 years — and a VHS gem called California Big Hunks, which I wrote and co-produced (and yes, that one’s had quite a resurgence lately).
As for the cover of my future biography? I imagine a black-and-white shot: I’m behind a tripod in the early 1980s, smiling into the wind, sunflare kissing my shoulder, reaching to adjust the lens. The title? Through the Lens: The Life and Light of Patty Mooney.
Because that’s what it’s been. A lens. A light. And a hell of a ride.
Oh! Patty! I love that title!!!!
Ride, Patty, ride!
I only wear makeup if I know other people are going to see me 😏
PRECISELY, Ms. Tara!
I have an amazing archive of films, books, and objets d'arts, but the most important objects I own are a fork, a spoon, and a butter dish. These were all gifts loaned to me that I have kept because I love the people who loaned them to me so much.
The cover would be a photograph of a tree I planted in my mom's honor when she died. It is a beautiful jacaranda. My goal in life has been to honor and recognize people and places who make this human experience better.
E. Jean, it is so wonderful to hear your voice and see you. You are such a great presence and help me through this world.
I stopped regularly wearing make up after I did an ethnography on Mary Kay Cosmetics in the 90s. They put make up on you at each of their events, and it eventually was too much for me. I call it "war paint" and use it only for encounters where I need a little courage.
WAR PAINT is one of the terms that the great Simone de Beauvior uses!
Good to know that Simone de B used this term. My father used it for me in the 1960's when I returned home to conservative Toronto with false eyelashes and painted on Twiggies and more. But it wasn't a compliment!
yes, that's my favorite term for it too, and I learned that term in France also, from a male work colleague: "peinture de guerre" is war paint in French 🙂
I’m like the first commenter: I’ve had a below the radar personal life. I learned to keep my business to myself when I was young and when I became a lawyer I learned what not to say, even beyond holding confidentiality. Most people are supremely incurious about anyone other than themselves or their current crush. I like having secrets. I’ve left no trail at all.
Ellen, you wear your secrets like Chanel No.5!!
Wow! Interesting question. I lost everything but 2 sewing machines, some old ratty sweats, a trench coat, leopard print scarf, old tired sneakers, and 2 plastic tote boxes of important papers in the Eaton Fire, so my physical memorabilia is no more. I do however see this as a fresh start and I’m tuned into the miracles that have been part of my life since January 7, 2025 when I drove away assuming I was far enough away, I could come get anything I needed the next day. I think my next chapter that I’m emerging into now will be the most interesting one and I’m not yet sure exactly what it will be. I do look forward to reading other conflabians’s stories.
Carol V!
Carol V! You survived the Eaton Fire!
And now you write TWO of the most profound and optimistic sentences to appear in Substack:
"I do however see this as a fresh start and I’m tuned into the miracles that have been part of my life since January 7, 2025 ."
and
"I think my next chapter that I’m emerging into now will be the most interesting one and I’m not yet sure exactly what it will be."
E. Jean, what a terrific response you wrote!
When I’m gone, a biographer will find a cigarette in a glass tube labeled “Break in case of emergency,” a monogrammed flask (empty, obviously), and ten copies of my book “In No Particular Order”—just in case my grandchildren ever wonder where the mental illness in our family came from.
They won’t need to dig. I left the breadcrumbs in print. Loud ones.
Title suggestion: Zee Zee: She Left Instructions, Not Apologies.
Please buy my book. I need the money. All short stories for the average bathroom break, full of enough smut to make Gramma clutch her pearls.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F2MXCY8Q
Dang! I love your author photo on Amazon, Zee Zee! Congratulations on the book!!
I do not wear makeup at all. When I was in 7th grade, I put foundation on my face in the morning and wiped it off on my school shirt in class. That was the end of me wearing makeup.
E Jean, you look great in the video! 😃
Biographers would say that I was Resourceful, Crazy, and Determined.
I totally am ungirly when it comes to clothes and shoes, but I love lipstick! I love mascara! I love skin creams! I color my hair! I think sometimes just putting on blue nail polish brightens my day. PS, E. Jean, you are so, so gorgeous.
Sapphire nail polish! A ruby lip! And here is CAROLINE LEAVITTVILLE!
I wear makeup every day even to go to the end of the cul-de-sac to get my mail. I've been performing my whole life even as a child just to survive. In fact, the cover will say, "She Survived It All and Kept on Singing".
Great title!!