I was 16 years old when I met her. We were at The National Black Theater Festival in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. Somehow, and I believe through my mother's finagling, we danced for a few minutes, during one of the receptions, to Luther Vandross' "Never Too Much". I was only slightly less awkward then than I am now, 24 years later. While dancing, I noticed the pack of Merit cigarettes hanging from the edge of her tiny purse. Being immersed in this sea of over the top theater folk, who looked just like me (for once), and while being a rebellious 16 year old discovering who I might want to be someday, I mustered up the courage and said "Excuse me, Miss Devine, could I borrow one of your cigarettes?" She didn't give me one. The song ended, and so did our dance. She was very sweet, and every thing you would want her to be. I will always have that moment. And I will always keep my eyes closed during great pictures. But I will never have a mustache again.
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