I had the pleasure of meeting Dorothy Height once in about 1993. She was in San Francisco at the Nordstrom event which coincided with the release of the "Black Family Reunion" Cookbook.
I took my daughter with me. She was just a baby. There was a long line of people waiting to shake Ms. Height's hand. Anna Marie Horsford, the actress, was there too.
By the time I got to the front of the line, my daughter was asleep in her stroller, but I still had our picture taken. I knew that while she would never remember this moment, she would, one day, appreciate the fact that she had been there and had the picture to prove it.
Ms. Height's presence was larger than life. She made me wish I'd dressed more formal on that day and that I had worn a hat. And even though she must have been nearly 80 years old at the time, she didn't seem "grandmother-ly." She seemed like royalty. Like our version of Queen Elizabeth. Only smarter.
After that meeting, I remember contacting a member of my church about joining "The National Council of Negro Women." I never got around to it. Now might be a good time to revisit the idea.
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