Ann Richards, the former governor of Texas, died last night after a short battle with cancer.

She was more than just a Democrat to me, and certainly more than just some governor of my home state.  She was a friend.  I knew her long ago when I was doing work for various media outlets in the DFW area.  In fact, she joined my friend Christy and I in attending the Press Club of Dallas theater event back in 1992 or 1993 (I can’t remember specifically which year it was).  As I read her obituary this morning, I also thumbed through photographs from those years and wept a bit as I came across pictures of us enjoying that evening out on the town (including one with Christy still in her costume from the play).

One thing about Ann that always cheered me up was that she was precisely who she appeared to be.  There were no façades, no masks, no public personas; there was only Ann, a fiery woman who said what she thought and did what she believed to be right.  She was as much a little spitfire in life as she was in politics (and by little, I mean she was short, but she made up for that with her big Texas hair and even bigger personality).

The silver-haired, silver-tongued Richards said she entered politics to help others — especially women and minorities who were often ignored by Texas’ male-dominated establishment.

”I did not want my tombstone to read, ‘She kept a really clean house.’ I think I’d like them to remember me by saying, ‘She opened government to everyone,”’ Richards said shortly before leaving office in January 1995.

Whether or not she succeeded at that, there was no question she cracked open the door.

She only served one term and lost to George W. Bush.  Although I am normally repulsed by the man, he hit the nail on the head when he learned of her death and said: “Texas has lost one of its great daughters.”

Indeed it has.

Rest in peace, dearest Ann.  I’m a better man for having known you.