Molly Ivins
Tomorrow is the second anniversary of Molly Ivins' passing.
I miss Molly, but I don't miss her more on that particular day, because it wasn't among her best days. Those better days were when she was raising hell.
I particularly miss Molly on days when I wake up on what used to be her property in Big Bend, walk outside with my first cup of coffee,
and watch the morning light dance across the mountains as the day begins. She loved that spot. It's during those moments that I think of her, and think of how many well-deserved feet have not been held to well-heated fires since she's left us.
But when she left, she left us something - the feeling that we could all, each, make a difference. A big difference. Maybe the difference. In fact, the sort of difference she might have envisioned us making is...the kind of difference we just made. And at that, she probably would have merely called it "a hell of a good start."
And in that light, Molly Ivins continues to change the world.
Also see the Texas Observer blog for more on the second anniversary of Molly's passing.
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4 comments:
Well, I miss Molly always.
But she still brightens my day when I think of her, hear her laugh, remember her chasing "Shit," one of the dogs she so loved, down the street in NYC, taking a kid with promise or trouble under her wing.
And, of all the good and inspiring and funny and outrageous things she wrote, I still treasure the short little note she wrote me on a little scrap of paper the day my father died.
Carlton Carl
Carlton, that was very cool, thank you.
In case readers don't know it, Carlton is the Executive Editor of the Texas Observer, Molly's favorite publication. I have now linked to their blog in my post, direct to the post written about Molly.
Great post. Can't believe it's been two years. Thanks for the info, FUBAR. Seems that most people outside of Texas think all we export is crappy politicians.
I miss her terribly. I was one of the great unwashed readers out there who looked forward to her column and howled with laughter when she was in the full throes of skewering her latest victim. Or she would prod me with her goad to action and participation. That this shit means something and I better get with it.
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