Maybe ten years ago or so, as an avid reader of editorial pages, I found myself reading a column by Molly Ivins and cackling with glee.
For those of you not familiar with Ms. Ivins, she was one outspoken, witty... really a genius... of a columnist who wasn't afraid to bite back at the powers that be.
Born in Monterey, CA but raised in Texas and proud to stay there most of her life, she had a keen eye for observation and I loved every thing that came out of her pen.
Most times, her columns were bold and brassy, taking the political right wing, that she lived beside day after day, to task for their un-Democratic and un-progressive platforms.
I particularly loved how she incorporated her strong Southern drawl into the thoughts themselves, simultaneously mocking and loving her own roots deep in the Bible belt.
And, I snapped up her books, from Shrub: The Short but Happy Political Life of George W. Bush, which unsuccessfully tried to warn us all about the perils of electing an incompetent boob from a weak governorship state to the Presidency, to Bushwhacked: Life in George W. Bush's America, a searingly accurate accounting of his first term in office, she was serious, funny and dead on.
She had a talent for taking the absurd in American life and politics and making me laugh. Molly was one of those people who made me feel like someone else out there gets it and therefore, got me. Cynthia Tucker, of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, another brilliant columnist that I crave, gives me that same kind of feeling but without quite the same edgy pizazz of Miss Molly.
Although I never met her, she was one of those writers that you felt like you knew. I was incredibly sad when she succumbed to breast cancer in January of 2007.
Bush is finally gone, but we'll live with his unfortunate legacy for years.
I remember you Molly, and I remember that you tried to warn us. I miss you.