Carolyn Wright became my personal hero this week.
Keep your pants on! It pertains to the discussion, and I will explain why.
There are many reasons the good people of Dayton should give props to Carolyn.
For starters, she is the executive director of Parity Inc., an organization that offers a black leadership development program and a mentoring program for youth.
Just this week, Wright and her volunteers and staff pulled off the 2020 installment of Parity Inc.’s Top 10 African American Male Luncheon. A story about the event that has spotlighted black men making a difference in Dayton appeared in this newspaper a few days ago.
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For all that, Carolyn should be showered in roses.
But that’s not why I am bringing her up.
Let me rewind the tape to explain the events leading up to Carolyn freeing me from a fate that would have been worse than a firing squad in some circles.
It had been a busy morning for me, which led to a mad rush out of the building to get to the luncheon.
But first, nature called as she often does when one is in a hurry.
It is how it always works. Am I right?
A pit stop to Tinkle Town was in the cards.
Not wanting to be any later than I already was, I hightailed it to my car and, obeying all posted and unposted traffic laws, made my way toward Sinclair Community College for the luncheon.
I missed my turn and had to take the long way.
Anyone who knows downtown Dayton knows that a person in a hurry would give a left arm to be able to turn left, but I digress.
In my belted zebra-print dress, black tights, chunky turquoise necklace and bright-red shoes, I signed in at the registration table.
On the way to my table, I felt a tap on my shoulder just as I was about to find my seat among a sea of people who somehow managed to get to the luncheon on time.
Turning around, I was delighted to see a smiling Carolyn.
After a few super quick pleasantries, she relayed the reason she stopped me.
“They told me to stop you. Your dress,” she said.
Eureka! It hit me.
My dress was the reason I felt an extra breeze as I rushed from the parking lot into Sinclair’s building 12.
My dress like all articles of clothing was out to get me.
As a former male coworker and friend approached, Carolyn and I did a little waltz to free the dress from whatever was hitching it up.
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The friend talked about this and that, la da da da not knowing until he knew what was going on in front of his very eyes.
“Wardrobe malfunction?” he asked just before I freed the back of the dress from my belt.
The extent of the hike I will never know and never shall the people I would have walked in front of on the way to my seat.
They say that not all heroes wear capes, and they are not kidding.
It takes a village to raise a child just as it takes women caring about other women to make sure the back of someone’s dress is not stuck in a belt.
Tell someone if they have something green in their teeth or something red on their forehead.
And by all means, stop them to tell them their dress is hiked up in the back before they walk in front of a crowded room.
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