If Alison were here she would laugh heartily at the tone and slant of what I’ve written, she’d tell me it’s a bit grand, she’d advise me to speak more simply. But she’s not here and this is what I have written about her:

To some of us she was more essential than an Act of Congress, if she was not actually, she was very nearly an Act of God, this self-selected fellow American Citizen.

Alison’s life, you see, was a damn near holy (if you ask me) exceptional exercise in personal power. Both her personal and professional agendas were endless; remain ageless. They’ll always be empty of greed, avarice, or any of the other persistently deadly sins that afflict most of us and reveal a base pettiness. She was an avowed pluralist, not anti but certainly non-elitist.

This year, on the January night that she left us I posit that Alison, my favorite sister, may have been greeted by another feminist energy. It’s not so outrageous, to my mind, that Sister Teresa gladly took Alison’s figurative hand in greeting, gave her a kiss, their energies combining to merge into the light -- only to re-emerge according to their sense of where they might be needed or wanted; perhaps where they might be sent. Radiantly.

She may, in fact, be with us here and now, extending her usual warm welcomes, composing the natural illuminations as are an enhancement of this exquisite beauty -- that of our apprehendible universe.

You may think that I’m trying to deify her, propose her for sainthood. No. Alison was of this earth and fully aware of its processes. She celebrated creation in so many forms, to know her was like intimately knowing a hurricane or a still ocean. Boundless energy in life, was Jim’s oh so wonderful bright star, Raphael’s mother.

In Memorium: Alison McMaugh 1927-2005
Wife of James Adley
Mother of Raphael Adley