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A precious nugget among the pebbles

We all lost a friend last week. Typically, Dolores Marx passed away unobtrusively. If you knew Dolores personally, you will know what we’re missing.

If you knew about the multiple Yorkshire dogs she took in and raised (including one who was born without front legs, which Dolores asked for), you know that from a dog’s eye view there will never be another like Dolores.

We submit a small appreciation to those of you who may have missed a class act, as Dolores wanted, and for those of us who were lucky enough to appreciate her when we had her.

Editor’s note: This was written in 2011:

Dolores Marx has always been our heroine.

When we first came to Ashland and went to the library, Dolores was working there.

When we went to the Christmas parade, Dolores was on a float.

When we went to Oregon Stageworks, Dolores was selling drinks.

When Norma joined the Ashland New Plays Festival board in about 1994, Dolores was already on it.

When we started ushering at the Oregon Cabaret Theater, Dolores was already ushering.

When we acquired an out-of-date database for our first mailings, Dolores looked up each one of the 510 names to be sure they were still current.

When we needed someone to pick up our mail several times a week from our post office box at Rite Aid, Dolores did that.

When we needed someone to deliver 500 copies of our newsletters to the bulk-mail postal department four times a year, Dolores delivered them.

When we were getting play submissions in hard copy, Dolores went to the post office and carried 175 of them home.

When we needed a treasurer of ANPF, even though we had not a single penny of our own, Dolores did that.

When we needed some generous donors so we could put on a festival, Dolores talked to her friends, and contributions happened.

When we needed someone to write all our checks, pay all our bills, and keep all our financial records, Dolores did that.

When we needed someone to take all ANPF’s phone calls and return them, Dolores had another line activated at her home.

When we found a tiny puppy lost and alone in the forest, Dolores took him in and raised him (and still has him).

When we needed someone to collect the tickets at any event (which Dolores had sold to audience members), Dolores was there and did that.

Dolores never takes a job with any possibility of recognition or praise or status or celebrity.

Dolores never takes any credit for anything or everything she does.

Dolores always shows up when she promised to, does what she said she would do, declines any appreciation, cleans up, and locks up, while others are socializing or exhausted.

If we ever, ever, get to the Pearly Gates, the sign above them will read “The Dolores Marx Community Theater,” and Dolores will be there collecting the tickets, and we’ll know we still have someone to live up to.

Fred and Norma Wright of Ashland are both past presidents of the Ashland New Plays Festival.

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