Marcia and I first met in 1966 at Time-Life Books, our first jobs after college. We didn’t know each other, because we worked in different research departments at opposite ends of the same floor in the big Time-Life Inc. building.
One day I was exploring the territory, and I stumbled upon this young Black woman hard at work at her desk. “Hello,” I said tentatively. Marcia looked up with surprise and a smile broke out on her face as we introduced ourselves. We were no longer “the only ones.”
From that day, we became close friends.
Marcia’s mother, Ethel Gillespie, was a successful caterer on Long Island, and at our annual Christmas dinner gathering, Marcia could be counted on to proudly share her mother’s cherished recipes. Marcia learned to prepare her food with the same meticulous legacy that she applied to life—no shortcuts.