We're Working on this website it should be up soon

Oh, I miss her.

Molly and I returned to Austin the same year, 1982. She worked then in the Dallas Times Herald closet-like office in the Texas Capitol — right across the hall from my Houston Chronicle closet-like office. We got to be friends, largely because we both liked to talk politics and, in my case but certainly not hers, I needed a generous and patient spirit to put up with me. Such was her spirit.

Years later she would write the forward to my first book, musing in print that she was stunned that her old beer-drinking friend had such a serious book in him. She asked me if the gentle jab was okay. “Molly,” I said, “I don’t remember drinking any beer.” She thought that was funny.

But then, Molly was so quick to find the humor in our lives and circumstances. Just about everyone was the cleverest person she ever met. That’s how she made you feel.

Isn’t it the case that many of you feel close to Molly? Isn’t it true that those she met just know Molly loved them? As much as our righteous cause? That was her magic.

This would be a great time to honor Molly by erasing Shrub as the international sign for “Texas” and replacing it with Molly’s wide, open-mouthed, gut-busting grin — a smile informed by her deep understanding of our political predicament, and her belief that one thing authoritarian types can’t abide is the people’s solidarity born in an uncontrollable and revolutionary laugh at their expense.