Molly Kiely--Artist, Writer, Entrepreneur, Adventuress, ...

Self portrait by Molly Kiely

I don't know if "met" is the right word, but if we agree that the word gets the job done, then I met Molly Kiely online several years ago. Probably in 2003. I had been surfing the web for several hours, reveling in pictures and stories about ancient travel trailers brought back from the dead. When I clicked on a now forgotten link and ended up at her web site, I hit pay dirt.

Back then, she was the parent-restorer-big sister-nurse to a 1950 travel trailer. A mid-century trailer is not really ancient, but is old enough to show some character. And need a lot of work. A Roadmaestra. I was jealous until I visualized all the sweat needed to put an old-timer like the Roadmaestra in shape.

Anyway, I leaned a little closer to the computer screen when I saw the pictures of the trailer and read about how Molly was going it alone with the restoration. Extraordinary woman, my mind whispered to itself. Going it alone takes guts.

How did Molly come to buy the old trailer? What I seem to remember is that she and the Arizona desert are kindred spirits. First she bought a couple of acres of heat, sand, and scrubby vegetation just outside of Tucson. Some time later, she happened upon the old priced-just-right trailer that was in need of tender loving care. Maybe the trailer came before the land. I don't remember for sure. But for Molly, trailer plus land equaled a soul-soothing getaway from a less-than-satisfying 9-to-5 life anchored by a high-tech job in California's Silicon Valley.

I emailed her that night with a few rambling comments about the trailer. Since then, I've probably emailed her two or three more times. In one message, I sent her links to some web sites I thought she would like. In another, my condolences when her homeless buddy, Buster, passed away.

Has the trailer passed away, too? Or just been passed on to another owner? There haven't been any recent mentions of the Roadmaestra. No wonder. Molly's traded in that California to Arizona commute to put down roots in the desert. She's got herself a home in the Avra Valley now. Attached securely to the ground. Not just a trailer that a strong wind might push to California in a weird dream following a night of too much tequila, but a real house.

I love the washing machine on the front porch. Molly says it's an Arizona thing.

I also like Molly's writing, photography and art. She's sort of a paradigm for the "modern woman," or at least what I imagine the modern woman to be. She's still got a day job to pay the bills, but her nights (and weekends) are made for better things. Writing, painting, photography, illustrations, pinup art (WARNING: Adult content; Molly says, "There's nothing wrong with pretty girls."), comics ("comics that are not for kids," as Molly puts it on her comic web page), and art shows.

I've read that if you type in "home-based business opportunities" in the Google search engine, Google will come back at you with 69,000,000 hits. I suspect a lot of those home based businesses are scams. Molly's the real deal. She's the real home-based business woman. Except that tag doesn't fit exactly.

Purists would have a fit if Picasso were called a home-based business man. Rightly so. So scratch the previous paragraph. I'll just say that today's economy gives people the opportunity to pursue higher interests--art, religion, philosophy--and make a living at the same time. As an economist, I can say, "Three cheers for capitalism." As a person, I'll add, "Three cheers for Molly Kiely for making the world a more interesting place."

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