Goodbyes

I didn’t hear about Ann Richards until late afternoon. I’m not surprised I’m sad because she’s gone — I’m surprised at how sad I am because she’s gone. I learned who Ann Richards was reading Molly Ivins columns in high school. Ivins immediately became my columnist hero; Richards quickly became my politician hero (not political hero, but one of them). Not to mention, I was comforted to find out that there was another state with politics at least as screwed up as Kentucky’s.

So, yeah, I’m sad. And I have none of my favorite Ivins’ columns at hand here to quote — the collections are all still on my childhood bookshelves back home — all I’ve got is Shrub. So here’s the best I can do, a short excerpt about Ann Richards campaign against W from that book by Ivins and Lou Dubose (but Ivins’ name’s a lot bigger on the cover):

Of Bush, she says, "We didn’t underestimate Bush, but we underestimated the Christian right, which probably reached its zenith that year. We underestimated the NRA (National Rifle Association) and its money. That cost me the male union vote, the good ole boy vote. I lost that over guns. Bush was very firm on the concealed weapons legislation, that he would sign it. I could not do it, in my conscience I could not cross that line. He is governor today because of guns."

And:

She said all along she would veto it (concealed weapons bill passed by the Texas lege in 1993), but the NRA put up a helluva campaign to convince her to sign it; one of their more innovative tactics was to try to persuade the feminist guv that Texas women would feel ever so much safer if they could only carry guns in their purses. When Richards vetoed the bill, she observed wryly, "You know that I am not a sexist, but there’s not a woman in this state who could find a gun in her handbag."

We need more Ann Richardse; sadly, they’re in short supply. I’m raising a glass to her tonight, a woman I always thought of as the Dorothy Parker of politics.

Last week, news filtered out that Mike Simanoff, the blogger behind Little Toy Robot (and other sites over the years), had died. Jeff Bryant wrote about him more eloquently than I’m able to. I only "knew" Mike through our respective sites and exchanging comments over the years; which is to say I knew him enough to be very, very sad for his friends, family and the world that he’s no longer here with us.

John Klima has posted his short story "Morris, His Self," which was in Electric Velocipede #6. There’s also a memorial site. R.I.P.

Updated from Michael’s brother (thanks, Colleen):

"Many people have asked about flowers and memorial donations. We are asking people to make donations in Michael’s memory to the National Alliance for Research on Schizophrenia and Depression." ( http://www.narsad.org/ )

Dana announces she’s vamoosing the much-beloved Number One Hit Song. Wah.

That is all.

Jane Jacobs, author of The Death and Life of Great American Cities and many other books about economics and how to have sensible cities, died this week in Toronto just shy of her 90th birthday. I’m sad to say I’ve never read any of her work and had only a passing familiarity with the name, but it makes me incredibly happy reading all the obits to know that she existed. It seems like many, if not most, of our culture’s best, common sense, rarely-employed urban planning concepts stem from her work. And unlike many who can write persuasively on such issues, she seems to have had a tangible, noticeable effect by stopping unnecessary, bad-idea projects from occurring in the cities where she lived. Sometimes by force, as the NYT obit recounts:

Ms. Jacobs did not limit her impact to words. In 1961, she and other screaming protesters were removed by the police from a City Planning Commission hearing after they had leapt from their seats and rushed the podium. In 1968, she was arrested on charges of second-degree riot and criminal mischief in disrupting a public meeting on the construction of an expressway, which would have sliced across Lower Manhattan and displaced hundreds of families and businesses. The police said she had tried to tear up the stenographer’s transcript tape.

Her personality seems to have been one of her biggest assets. How can you not be won over by this? Also from the NYT:

In an interview in Azure magazine in 1997, Ms. Jacobs recounted her habit of carrying on imaginary conversations with Thomas Jefferson while running errands. When she could think of nothing more to tell Jefferson, she replaced him with Benjamin Franklin.

"Like Jefferson, he was interested in lofty things, but also in nitty-gritty, down-to-earth details," she said, "such as why the alley we were walking through wasn’t paved, and who would pave it if it were paved. He was interested in everything, so he was a very satisfying companion."

Years later, she realized that she had developed her talent of working through difficult ideas in simple terms by practicing them on her imaginary Franklin. She also acquired another inner companion through Alfred Duggan, an English historical novelist. He was Cerdic, a Saxon chieftain. Years later, she continued to chat with him while doing housework.

"There were only two things in the entire house that were familiar to him," she wrote, "the fire (although he didn’t understand the chimney), and the sword," a Civil War souvenir. "Everything else had to be explained to him."

The Toronto Star’s obituary says:

She believed that residential and commercial activity should be in the same place, that the safest neighbourhoods teem with life, short winding streets are better than long straight ones, lowrise housing is better than impersonal towers, that a neighbourhood is where people talk to one another. She liked the small-scale.

Former Toronto mayor David Crombie said that while people see her as a city builder, affecting the city form, her impact was much bigger and deeper.

"The most important thing she did for me and us was remind us that ideas matter, and the ideas that were most important are the ones that mattered to us," Crombie said. "She also believed you take action. You don’t have ideas and go away. There is a direct connection of thought and action."

That’s some kind of legacy. Raise a glass for Jane Jacobs tonight.

See also:

Duncan Murrell at Maud Newton’s
The Vancouver Sun
The Globe and Mail
More in the Star
Bloomberg
Tributes in the Globe and Mail

There were a lot of things George Rowe the Dog, Poster Boy for American Values, My Attorney, did that made him different than most dogs. Things that made him extra-special. Here’s ten:

1. Became world-famous. One of George’s most often-used nicknames is "The World Famous George Rowe the Dog" (always followed by a cheer of some sort, usually "Yay!"). There’s a reason.

2. Started a political movement.

3. Was used by CNN as the Poster Boy for American Values in cut-aways from the Supreme Court building during the deliberations on the 2000 election.

4. Was an honorary member of the U.S. Capital security force. George likely had top secret clearance.

5. Pioneered the world-famous passive-passive defense against things he didn’t like, such as baths.

6. Could fly laying flat on the floor. And shake hands with the best. He almost never barked. He had a huge heart and spirit. And everyone loved him instantly.

7. Ate only Mickey Mouse-shaped pancakes. (It was in his contract rider.)

8. Did everything Christopher Rowe ever told him to do and meant.

9.  Was always a good boy.

10. Made us happy when we were sad.

David Stemple passed away yesterday. Jane Yolen talks about it in her journal.

I didn’t know David nearly as well as I’d have liked to, but every moment I was around him was a joy. I always thought of David as Indiana Jones, because that was what he was like. On a trip to Mexico, he and Adam braved the wilds of the countryside birding and he looked perfectly like he was on safari. You can see some pictures and listen to some of his bird recordings here. It feels strange to post about this, but it’d feel stranger to have the day pass and not mention it at all.

The world is less without him in it. My thoughts are with his family.