A journey to the heart of history’s largest nonterritorial empire
“One of our most important roles that we play now in our lives is to try and keep the grandchildren grounded,” says Ed. “They have an impossible time raising kids. They’ve done an incredible job, and the kids are just great. But they’re still very protected, which you have to understand. We took the older one a couple years ago to the mall for her birthday to buy a pair of earrings. That was a really eye-opening experience, just walking through the mall.”
“We haven’t really discussed it with them yet, about how they’re going to integrate them. One day they’ll be out for high school, maybe. I don’t know.”
“It’s complicated,” says Karen.
“It’s very, very complicated,” Ed agrees. “But he knows what people need and want, sometimes even before they know it. I mean, people call him arrogant—”
“He’s not,” says Karen.
“—but time after time, his arrogance just turns into truth.”
“You will experience it one day too,” Ed ruminates, “when your children eclipse you.”
Karen nods and waits for her husband to finish, then comes alive. She shifts her posture back toward me with a tender but firm gaze. “I can tell you how it is for me as a mother,” she says. “This is my child.”
“The Eye of Sauron” is how her child’s longtime lieutenants have referred to the unblinking, sometimes unnerving silences he involuntarily imposes when preparing to answer a question or make a point. I see it now, I think.
A Company press handler knocks and enters; Ed and Karen have to be going, it’s time. As we stand up to say goodbye, I mention that I’ll soon be interviewing their son at his home, then joining him and his family for dinner that Friday, and get in a parting question about it.
