Oh, for the Love of Molly

Another Love Thursday finds me mourning another stranger -- another celebrity, no less!  This one truly deserved to be celebrated.  Typically, though, I discovered her passing late, and only because it was marked by a favorite radical feminist blogger.

Of course I'm talking about Molly Ivins.

I haven't a thing to say about her that anyone else hasn't already said better.  Mostly, as usual, all I've got to say is "Thanks.  I mean it."  A professional smartmouth -- a really smart mouth, a brain and a wit -- she showed me while I was still young what could happen to a woman if she refused not to call everything as she saw it:  she could be heard, respected, and sharply influential.  She could make a difference.

Molly amused me every time I heard or read her voice, and as with every other mind she reached, she affected my political education in ways I'll be developing, often aware of their provenance but likely just as often not, for the rest of my life.  Her language has entered my language; in polite company, I find I can't call our president anything but "Shrub."  She even taught me a little Spanish, like the time she was describing a typical Texas political pissing contest as a game of "¿Quién es más macho?"  Man, I use that expression all the time now!  'Cause I see that same stupid game going on all over the place.  'Cause she pointed it out.

I loved her voice.  The idea of it silenced forever, except insofar as we cherish the record of it she left behind, really does grieve me, especially for it to be silenced now (as if there would ever be a good time) and especially for it to be silenced by breast cancer (as if there would ever be a good way).

A great one has left us, and well we know it.  Raise a glass -- a sober glass -- to Molly Ivins, to love and truth, and love of truth, to the mot juste, and to a just sense of the ridiculous.

Thanks, Molly.  And happy Love Thursday.  Sorry you couldn't be here in person.

Comments

[patry]

I miss that unique and strong and wonderful voice already.

[Ron Sullivan]

That was last week and I'm still sore.

Too damned much death.