Life with Liz Carpenter

To celebrate International Women’s Day on March 8, I wanted to write about the mentor, friend, and woman (besides my mom) who most influenced me—Liz Carpenter (1920-2010).? Liz was a women’s rights pioneer, author, humorist, and lecturer. But she was probably best known as the former press secretary to First Lady Lady Bird Johnson and special assistant to President Lyndon B. Johnson. When President John F. Kennedy was assassinated in 1963, Liz wrote the words that then-Vice President Johnson delivered to a grieving nation:

This is a sad time for all people. We have suffered a loss that cannot be weighed. For me, it is a deep personal tragedy. I know that the world shares the sorrow that Mrs. Kennedy and her family bear. I will do my best. That is all I can do. I ask for your help and God’s.

I met Liz in the mid-90s. I had just come back from living and working in the film business in Los Angeles, and I was glad to return to my hometown. My friend Paula introduced me to Liz one afternoon because she was looking for someone, preferably a writer, to live in her guesthouse on her property which had a panoramic view of downtown Austin. I was extremely nervous, but we immediately hit it off. Initially, I thought I would only stay for a few months, but I lived there for a little more than four years. My experience with Liz was more valuable than earning a Ph.D. She became my life guide and my surrogate grandmother.

The first time I visited the White House, Liz and I stayed with Betty Friedan in her Washington D.C. apartment near the Watergate Hotel. As a young feminist, I felt like I was in a dream. The night before, I had dinner with Liz, Betty, and former Texas governor Ann Richards. At that dinner, I remember saying to these extraordinary pioneers, “Thank you for everything you have done for women. I am so grateful and so humbled to be here.” And then Ann said, “Jennifer, we didn’t do it for you. We did it for ourselves because life was hard for us.” And she winked at me.?

Ann reminded me that women are programmed to do for others and not for themselves. The lesson? One of the most significant actions a woman can take is to realize her full potential, and the world will benefit. Betty called President Clinton’s office the next day to ask, “Is he around today?” He was. We sat in the Oval Office two hours later and watched the President deliver his weekly radio address. Afterward, we received a personal back office tour. I told the President, “Thank you so much for allowing us to come today.” And he said, “Well, you can’t really turn down Liz and Betty.”

Betty Friedan, President Bill Clinton, Jennifer Hill Robenalt, Liz Carpenter

But for all the excitement around Liz, she was one of the most down-to-earth women I’ve ever had the privilege to call my friend. One night I had a terrible migraine headache. I felt very ill, and no amount of pain medication could give me relief. I went into Liz’s bedroom, and she could see I was in a lot of pain. She immediately got out of her bed, which was not easy for her with a weak ankle, and told me to climb into it. She scooted a chair up to the edge of the bed and began massaging my feet and saying things like, “Imagine you are by a cool stream. Look at the clouds and watch the wind in the trees. Just relax.” And when she began praying over me and asking God to take my pain away, I said, “What about Buddha?” And without a beat, she replied, “Buddha can’t save ya now, honey.” She could always make me laugh through the pain.

Liz was a dynamo. After her stint in the White House, she became a VP at Hill & Knowlton in Washington D.C. When Liz returned to Austin, she published several books and was a tireless mentor to young women. Earlier in her life, she was at the forefront of second-wave feminism—a worldwide movement— with friends like Betty, Gloria Steinem, Betty Ford, Barbara Jordan, and many others. She fought hard for the Equal Rights Amendment, which we are still fighting for today.

Liz was also the consummate host and often entertained people in her home in Austin, Texas. Dinner parties might include Carol Channing, Bill Moyers, Mrs. Johnson, Helen Thomas, Walter Cronkite, Molly Ivins, Liz Smith, Candy Crowley, and countless others. I’m grateful for never being excluded from these incredible experiences. Liz survived breast cancer and had trouble walking when she was in her 70s, but that never slowed her down.

I could (and probably should) write a book about my life with Liz. But in the meantime, here are just a few things I learned from her.

• Work Hard: Liz grew up in the Depression-era and deeply valued hard work. She admired people who were masters at their crafts. Even into her 80s, Liz was a disciplined writer and wrote every morning. She was an expert in checking off a “to-do” list and got more done before 11 a.m. than most of us could muddle through in a day. But she also knew that working hard and being good at whatever makes you passionate about life means you have to schedule time for friends and life-enriching experiences.
• Stay Young: Even as the “elder stateswoman” of Austin, many of Liz’s regular friends were much younger than her. She prioritized surrounding herself with young, idealistic women and was sincerely open to learning as much as she could about the issues facing them. Liz valued interesting people and had little time for pessimists and naysayers. She always told me to listen to young people and respect their experiences. Youthful optimism keeps you engaged with life.
• Be Yourself: Liz was always herself, whether in the White House or at an intimate gathering in Texas. With her endearing Texas drawl, humor, and brightly colored ensembles, Liz engaged with students, political leaders, award-winning authors, and neighbors in the grocery store in the same way—always with a quip and a smile. Before knowing Liz, I had felt enormous pressure to wear a professional “mask,” which was separate from my identity. After living with Liz, I understood the extreme importance of being authentic in your everyday life. Authenticity attracts the kind of people and experiences you truly want in your life.

So many of us miss Liz and wish we could listen to her stories or bend her ear. If anyone could make things happen, it was Liz. I used to take my young son to the Liz Carpenter Fountain, where he could run through the water and play. I still teach him about Liz (who loved him very much) and remind him that boys can be feminists too. And on this day of celebrating women, I remember my friend Liz.

Liz Carpenter in her home, Grassroots, in Austin, TX.