by Kean Kaufmann
In my favorite picture of Ann, she stands on an old stone bridge on the west coast of Ireland. She and Doug were hosting us in Galway. They had made themselves at home there, as they did everywhere all over the world -- sought out the best the place had to offer and gladly shared it with their friends. They took us rambling over the Burren and scrambling up the Cliffs of Moher.
In the photograph, Ann smiles a little, not looking straight at the camera, lifting her face to the light as it filters through the leaves. In a quarter-century I've seen so many pictures of her, taken in so many different places... but only the green of Ireland -- that vivid, vibrant, heart-startling color -- could match the blue of Ann's eyes.
Everyone talks about loving life and living it to the fullest. But when you meet someone who actually does, it takes your breath away.
Fresh out of grad school, I met Ann, years after the stroke that made it harder for her to walk and talk. My first best memory of her is amazement: Her eyes were bluer than anyone else's, and her love of life more vivid.
For twenty-five years, I'm so glad I've shared meals and movies and music with her and Doug, witnessed their devotion to each other, had their company on adventures and hikes and protest marches. It seemed to me that Ann had been everywhere, done everything, and somehow managed to see everyone with some kind of kindness -- though often with an ironic head-tilt, too! I once asked her if she "prayed or meditated or anything." But I didn't say: How on earth do you live with such grace? She tilted her head and said quizzically, "No..." She didn't say: Why would anyone ask such a question?
Ann was no saint; her frustration was obvious, when her speech snagged on numbers or strained for words. But equally obvious was her gratitude to be alive. She was grateful to the clumsy [body] that carried her graceful spirit.
How on earth did she live with such grace; how did she live with such grace on the earth? The poet John Keats called this world "the vale of Soul-making." Though it may not survive beyond the brain and body, Ann proved her soul greater than the sum of its parts. While she was here, Ann made a soul that shone.