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Although I usually respond to men’s questions in this column, I decided to do something a little different. Since March is Women’s History Month, I thought I would honor my woman and the history we’ve shared together.
Ria and I met in 1980, when I was 19, with long hair and torn jeans. I transferred into her class on the second week of school. She watched as I spoke with the professor. Having learned to appreciate the pleasures of having a “project” from her creative and adventurous mother, Ria thought to herself, ” I can do something with that.”
Besides cute and petite, I could tell she was smart. That’s why I would glance over, from time to time, to see what she had written