Margaret snatched the old songs of Vermont from the brink of oblivion -- the tradition had practically died away like the lost languages of so many native peoples. But she did more than sing them; Margaret represented their spirit in her spirit, in her person. Looking out my window at our hills in their new greens like children freshly dressed after their bath, I think of Margaret glowing with pleasure to be among us. When I wave to my neighbors on the road or stop to visit with them outside the store or the post office or salute their forebears as I pass them in the graveyard, Margaret comes to mind, holding Vermont's lyrical heritage cupped in her hands for protection. Margaret wasn't born here, but she adopted Vermont and lived up to its best nature and reflected it and gave it voice, and every Vermonter, born or adoptive, who met or heard her her recognized the best of Vermont in her. She made us no longer strangers to each other, and I hope her wonderful family will forgive me for thinking of her as the State Mom. I hope we're living up to her, or trying to, and that her memory will be a blessing to us all.