There's no escaping
Krawi
at
7:47 AM
Just when I thought how rewarding it must be to listen to him read passages from his literary masterpieces, I was shocked to learn that Frank McCourt, Pulitzer Prize-winning author of Angela's Ashes, had succumbed to cancer last July 19. The news of his death pinched me to the core, his old age temporarily forgotten as the image of him braving through a miserable childhood in Limerick rushed back into my head.
The news of his death saddens me more than any other story of someone passing on.
I still picture him - little, innocent Frankie - with his stories, dreams, and confessions. And as if his memory were mine, I look back in between pages of the endearing rags-to-riches tale that propelled him to literary greatness; of how he pedalled his way out of poverty to becoming one of the most respected figures in the literary world. But beyond that is the charm written along the paragraphs of McCourt's books. And even deeper than his insights is a gift of generosity. More than words, more than humor, McCourt is simply brilliant.
"If you live past 65 you're responsible to the rest of humanity to pass on your insights, that's why you're allowed to live a little longer... So if I'm here, there's a reason I'm here."
- Frank McCourt, (August 30, 1931 - July 19, 2009)
Picture: Frank McCourt author of 'Angela's Ashes' at his Roxbury home in 1999. (TOM BROWN / HARTFORD COURANT / August 9, 1999)
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