1. One of my heroes, Ann Richards, died last night. She was the quintessential Texas woman: big hair, big voice, big ideas, big heart. She was the first woman (and at this date, still the only one) elected governor of Texas on her own. There was an earlier one, Miriam "Ma" Ferguson, who was elected to finish out her deceased husband's term.

2. A lot of people referred to Governor Richards as Ma, but the Professor and I always called her Granny Annie. She was the first political candidate I ever gave money to, and it got me on her Christmas card list. Her Christmas cards were always pictures of her grandchildren.

3. I used to smugly think to myself, yeah, her grandchildren are really adorable, but nowhere near as adorable as mine are.

4. Governor Richards was elected on the day that Kritter was born. I thought that was such a wonderful symbol of the freer, more open world Kritter was being born into.

5. One of the reasons I admired Ann Richards so much was that she was raised just like I was -- women stayed home, raised children, and supported their husband's career. It didn't matter how smart or energetic or capable you were; there were rules, and you were expected to obey them. So she became an excellent cook, gave lots of parties to further her husband's career, and never, ever gave away her recipes because they were her only source of power.

6. Maybe not so surprisingly, she became an alcoholic along the way. Her family finally did an intervention, telling her things she had done when she was drunk, and ending every recitation with "and I know you wouldn't have done that if you hadn't been drinking." She said in her autobiography that one story that really haunted her was from her godchild, who told of being scared when Ann was holding her arm too tightly and wouldn't let the child go.

7. So she got sober, got into local politics, and before long became state treasurer. I know this sounds impossible, but she was the first treasurer who ever thought of investing our money to make it grow.

8. Next thing we knew, she was running for governor. She lucked out in her opponent, a west Texas millionaire who started running ads in January of the election year. He had cute sound bites that some people mistook for actual thought, things like his idea for drug offenders: "I'll teach them the joy of busting rocks."

9. The man -- Clayton Williams, I think his name was -- had it in his back pocket until just a couple of weeks before the election. Then, one day while he was waiting for fog to clear so he could give some reporters a tour of his ranch, he said "The weather is just like rape; you can't do anything about it so you might as well lay back and enjoy it." A week or so later he refused to shake Ann's hand in public, and that did NOT sit well with Texans.

10. So fortunately for Texas, Clayton lost the election for himself, Ann was elected, and life was good. Even her enemies have to admit she did a good job. But she lost the next election to a political novice named George W. Bush.

11. In addition to the fact that I agreed with most of her ideas, I felt a real connection to this woman because we had both spent years trying to suppress our competitive and goal-oriented sides, trying to behave as we had been raised to, and never acknowledging, even to ourselves, that we were miserable always being the passive and subservient one.

12. It's hard to explain this to younger people, but the rules changed, and it felt like they changed overnight. Suddenly, sacrificing yourself for the happiness of others earned scorn, not admiration. Suddenly, you were supposed to know what you truly wanted out of life. Ann did it first, and Ann did it better, but she helped light the way for me and countless other women who were still afraid to take on a "man's job".

13. We have lost a smart, funny, compassionate person. But we can say about her what we all hope they will say about us someday: the world is a better place because she was in it. Rest in peace, Ann.