She could not be dead, I thought, she had survived so much – blizzards at the Standing Rock pipeline protest, her public breakdown, and even flying in the stratosphere as Lois Lane in the movie Superman. Yes, she was a celebrity – but I saw Margie simply as my friend. I had seen her just days before her death on May 13, and often walked her Pyrenees dog Jack, a giant next to the diminutive Margie, when she was no longer able to. But she is gone. And the world is a smaller place for it.
At the family memorial a few weeks ago, Jack recognized me, laying his huge slobbering jaw briefly on my lap. A woman led him past as he served as a sort of maître d’ of a sad, strange affair involving several hundred people who knew and cared about Margie.
At the request of Margie’s daughter Maggie, some of us donned the Liberty Belle costumes we had worn in the Livingston 4th of July Parade during 2009 – Margie’s idea of course. Backed up by a truck with loud speakers blaring 60’s rock and roll music (think Aretha’s R-E-S-P-E-C-T), we danced down Main Street and all over town. Each of us made a saSh that articulated our favorite cause. Mine? Save Bears. Margie’s? Regulate Banks. We won second place.
The amazing thing was that after nine years, some of us could still find our costumes and sashes.
I never thought of Margie as a star, despite being reminded of that fact every time I walked into her house, where her many book shelves were lined with pictures in…