I don't know who the youngest Kossack is, but I'm pretty sure that Charlotte Lucas is the oldest. On Monday, she celebrated her 96th birthday, and posted her 27th diary at Daily Kos, which made the recommended list. Thanks to the tribute by Emmet, we learned how she picked her moniker, about some of her travels and that:
She's an accomplished tailor, knitter, cook and gardener (passersby take pictures of her gardens). She's worked for and/or contributed to every Democratic presidential candidate and countless statewide and local candidates for over 60 years. With her husband Patrick, who died in 1990, she raised six children and last week welcomed another great-granddaughter (the most remarkable child ever born) into the world. She's sheltered homeless immigrants, tutored reading in Head Start, taken in abandoned pets, and been there for the friends of her children who had a tough time in their own homes. She volunteered with the local library until she was 92. She's a fierce feminist and a crusader for civil rights for all. She cried for joy when the 1964 Civil Rights Act was passed.
By clicking on her moniker, you can read all her diaries and comments. But here's the first one she wrote at Daily Kos, on Christmas Day 2008.
I am 95 years old. In 1936, two years out of college and shortly before my twenty-third birthday, I exercised my franchise and cast my first vote—for Franklin Delano Roosevelt. We were still in the midst of the Great Depression, and the migration from the Dust Bowl had begun. At the time, painfully immature and thoughtless, my vote was an act of independence that gave me a feeling of being an adult. I admired Roosevelt and, in the rebellious spirit of youth, liked his being known as "a traitor to his class". When he won and his second inauguration was coming up, I was pleased but not excited, having more important things like dates and parties on my mind.
As time went on and things began to look a little brighter, I was, in my dim way, impressed by FDR’s fireside talks, by the jobs that were being created, and a feeling that there was still hope. As for social issues, I confess with shame that I rarely thought about the unfortunate Okies and Arkies who were invading California and thereby outraging many of its citizens. It wasn’t until years later when I read the magnificent GRAPES OF WRATH that I realized what had been going on in front of me. Looking back over the years, I see how FDR’s vision and his feeling for "the common man" pulled us through those terrible years.
Now times are bad again. After eight years of incompetence, an unprovoked war that has cost thousands of lives, a huge waste of money, and the loss of good relations with other nations, there is hope again. I look forward to Barack Obama’s inauguration with the greatest enthusiasm.
There is real light at the end of the tunnel. Getting through it won’t be easy but we have, I think, chosen a wise and thoughtful young leader.
I am reading Mr. Obama’s book DREAMS OF MY FATHER. This is a story that makes me look at myself and to see myself through the eyes of another person, a person who has reason to distrust my kind of people. It shouldn’t be like that in this country, this "melting pot" whose citizens far too often judge their fellow men and women by the color of their skins, their religious beliefs or lack thereof, and sadly often, in the case of homosexuals, simply because they are "different". Barack Obama and his administration can’t right all these wrongs but, again, the hope is there. It isn’t the mere fact that an African American is moving into the White House. It’s trite but true that here is the realization of the American dream. In the dangerous and tumultuous world we live in now, here is a man who is capable of inspiring hope, who is willing to take on a stupendous job, and who is determined to do his very best.
Thanks for hanging around with all of us youngsters, Charlotte.