One of the Greatest People You Never Knew Died on Saturday

Although she was born in Foo Chow China, she wasn't Chinese. Although she had all the benefits of an upper middle class life, most of it was spent working to benefit those who had less. Though she had a passionate liberal streak a mile wide, she was one of the most respectful people I've ever known, even to those without the benefit of her liberal perspective.

I didn't meet her 'til she was 76 years old, but the day I met her she was out cross-country skiing. She was a textbook example of how to live life, then how to greet death. She found out last Thursday that she was going to die, then on Saturday she passed on. At home. In bed. If you've gotta go, but there aren't that many more better ways to say adieu than that.

She was former Vermont State Senator Jean Ankeney. Jean was an old school liberal, and if you don't know what that means, let me illustrate. When she lived in Cleveland as the wife of a surgeon, she started a library in a very rough, decidedly un-white neighborhood. Active in family planning, once she moved to Vermont she became active in the Planned Parenthood outlet there. Jean thought life should, if at all possible, make sense. Things like libraries and Planned Parenthood are great dispensers of sense.

In 1992 the leader of the Democratic Party in Chittenden County came to her and asked her to run for the state senate. She didn't really want to, but she figured if this young man could raise kids, complete his residency at the local hospital to become a doctor, all while being a lieutenant Governor at the same time, maybe she could give that Senate seat a run. So she told Howard Dean that she'd do it. And did. And won re-election four more times.

She and the soon-to-be Governor Dean went head-to-head a lot, though. His inflexibility on balancing the budget conflicted often with her primary focus: early childhood development and education issues. Governments often find spending wherein there's not a statue or a building to put a plaque on the most expendible, when something's got to go. But she and Dean came together more often than not, and remained friends to the end.

I met her in 1998 when I moved to Vermont ahead of my family. The idea: get to know the area to determine where to live once they got there. 4 days into looking for a place to live on my own for the 5 months before the family moved up, I came across an ad saying something like "live on 12 acre farm free in exchange for dusting and household duties." That was just what I was looking for! Decidedly cheaper than cheap.

So I went to meet her and her aunt at her farmhouse. We hit it off and I moved in the next day. I got to know Vermont on a country farm with a big barn, sheep, horses, chickens, and more snow than you could shake a snow shovel at. It was really, really great. I spent January through May walking her dogs, starting the fire in her wood stove, shoveling out the driveway, and vacuuming.

And she told me what she thought was important about Vermont. Just two things: its people, and its nature. She loved both with equal passion. And a lot of that rubbed off on me.

My family and I moved back to Texas two years later, but I stayed in contact with Jean. She was the personification of decency. And tough. Rural Vermonters are that way, especially as their bodies get older and even the simple becomes difficult.

But then last summer I took the family back for a visit to Vermont. Jean was gracious enough to let us spend, probably five nights back at her house. We got to take her up to Lake Placid on a day trip. It was a splendid day (splendid being a word Jean would have used to describe it), topped off by a brisk ride across Lake Champlain on the ferry. We exchanged lots of smiles, without any discernible reason for them other than the pleasure of the moment.

There are many kinds of great people in this world. Some demand attention and adulation, which powers their efforts. But some of the great ones just go about their work quietly, their determination to make this world a better place quiet, but resolute. Jean made no more noise than she had to, but her efforts were felt in large and small ways. Vermont without her would have still been a wonderful place, but less so.

I thank the powers that be that Jean and my paths crossed. I know she made me a better person without my even knowing it.