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I guess it never really occurred to me that Mary was mortal. It certainly never crossed my mind that I would somehow be around, alive and kicking, in a world without Mary in it. Mary Cynthia Dunlap, larger than life, a force of nature, who filled up a room with her presence, her tall solid self, her waving arms, her energy, her laugh, her voice, her words and words and more words, her hair that (of course) stood straight up on her head, electrified. Mary who, Saint Frances-like, rescued birds and fed them in her big palms, loved dogs and cats, painted elephants, giraffes, and multicolored fish. Mary the poet, the painter, the survivor, the diver-into-the-cold-Pacific-Ocean-just-for-fun. Mary the gifted and the generous giver of gifts - of poetry, of paintings, of warm notes of condolence or congratulation, of time, of her self. Mary the loving partner of Maureen, Mary the lawyer, all reasoned passion or passionate reason, fighting for justice, for equality, for dignity and respect, for liberation, year after year. Mary the indomitable, the indefatigable.


Publication Citation

19 Berkeley Women's L.J. 12-16 (2004)