Four powerful women have been on my mind lately, and I’ll drop three of their names here: the late writer Eudora Welty, into whose cart mine once bumped in a Mississippi supermarket; the late Katherine Graham, who hosted a wonderfully grueling grilling that I barely survived at a lunch in 1965; the longer-ago late Eleanor Roosevelt, with whom I shared a 22-story elevator-ride conversation at a conference. You know them. We were not close.
The fourth one is the late Rehova Williams Arthur, who died in July at age 84. Unless you are a South Side Chicagoan, perhaps a member of West Point Baptist Church, where Mrs. Arthur was active for 75 years, or a University of Chicagoan or a reader of the acknowledgments in many of the books written by U. of C. Divinity School faculty during her 28 years there, her name will be new to you.
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