Being a Rockefeller, Becoming Myself: A Memoir by Eileen Rockefeller

Author:Eileen Rockefeller [Rockefeller, Eileen]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2013-09-11T14:00:00+00:00

Norman Cousins was an even more impactful mentor. He opened my eyes to new worlds, both personally and professionally. I first met him in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia, in 1979. My father invited me to join him at the Dartmouth Conference, which he co-chaired with Norman. Leaders from the former Soviet Union and the United States came together in hopes of thawing the Cold War. I felt a connection with Norman the moment our eyes met. It was clear he liked women but, more than that, his playful and searching eyes drew me out of my shyness into conversation. Norman asked what I did. I told him I was living on a farm estate in Vermont, teaching children agricultural and environmental conservation, weaving and writing poetry in my spare time. I gave poetry-writing workshops to children, the elderly, and battered women. The children had won statewide prizes, the elderly wrote about times gone by, and the battered women found community through their shared words.

“I’d like to see one of your poems,” he pressed.

“I’m not a published writer.” I was embarrassed, for I had just learned he was editor in chief of the Saturday Review of Literature, a widely read and highly respected weekly magazine on arts and public affairs, which I had read only a few times; the Cold War was foreign to me, and I was afraid of making a fool of myself. He persisted. I went back to my hotel room and thumbed through my titles for a small selection.

How could a man as brilliant and articulate as he was be interested in seeing something I had written? His talk to the group of Russians and Americans that afternoon had been the most inspiring I’d ever heard. I was magnetized, and I wanted to learn everything I could from him. It was the beginning of a mentorship that would last until his death eleven years later.

That night, I co-hosted a dinner with my father on the grounds of his parents’ home in Colonial Williamsburg. Grandmother and Grandfather had built Colonial Williamsburg to preserve the founding values of our country. A white tent was set up on their back lawn and I stood at the entrance with my father to welcome people to dinner. My dad made a gracious toast, recounting his parents’ desire for mutual understanding among nations and his own hopes for this conference. Norman spoke about the obligation to do all we can as individuals to keep nations at peace.

I was an unworldly twenty-seven-year-old, but I could feel the growing warmth from the Russians in the room, who were mostly men in their fifties and sixties. They appreciated being received with such respect by my father and Norman, and having me there, as the daughter of David Rockefeller. Norman told me, “It would be good for people to hear from the younger generation. It will give them hope.”

The mostly male audience looked drawn and tired, but when I stood and tapped my glass, I saw a spark of surprise and curiosity.

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