I had dinner with RBG, sort of.

I first saw Justice Ginsburg in person back in the early 2000s in DC at one of Arena Stage’s open nights. I cannot remember which play that was. My husband and I used to see many plays there and at other theaters on opening nights. Justice Ginsburg was also a familiar and highly-respected figure at these events. She and her husband, Marty, were sometimes escorted to prime seats, with theater personnel helping them with easy access. But just as often, they would mingle in the crowd of first-nighters, maybe grabbing a drink or a snack at intermission or at the opening night parties after the performance. I said a brief hello on occasion, but one night I was able to have an enjoyable, memorable conversation with this warm and gracious legal pioneer, whose brilliance and tenacity changed American law for the better in many ways.

It was another opening night at the Kennedy Center. Following the play, there was a reception with the cast at a venue nearby. The place was crowded with good vibes and celebratory energy. I managed to find a small corner table in a booth. As my husband and I sat down with our food and drinks, the Justice and her husband walked up and asked if they could join us.  I simply could not believe what was happening to us, but I managed to say I was more than happy for them to join us.

I was at a loss immediately, however, searching for any possible conversation topics. I felt I had to entertain them. I rambled something about admiring her work from my days as a C-SPAN producer when she appeared before Congress for her confirmation hearing and later swearing-in as a Supreme Court Justice. Her graciousness put me at ease. She had that twinkle in her eyes when she smiled, which was pretty much the entire time we spent eating and drinking. I remember being mesmerized and enveloped by her kindness. She gave me a wink.  Our conversations were interrupted occasionally by her admirers saying hello briefly and apologizing for the interruptions.  They probably assumed the Justice and her husband were having dinner with two friends. We, of course, were just two lucky people whose faces she probably vaguely remembered from many opening nights. This could only happen in DC, I guess.

As that evening’s conversation went on, I soon realized Martin Ginsburg was pretty quiet, probably because my husband and I were focused on his wife. So, I shifted my attention to him and engaged in some small talk. If I knew then what I know about him today, I would have had much better things to talk with him about. He is always described as being very charming and talkative, in contrast to his wife’s quiet, somewhat introverted personality. He was also a pioneer in many ways, and an amazing complement to his wife.

When they said it was time for them to head back over to the Watergate, where they lived, we said good-bye. I was left with a very distinct warm feeling for her I never lost. She was not yet renowned as Notorious RBG, but my husband and I referred to her as Mrs. G. And we had a ritual. Each time we walked or drove by the Supreme Court, we always shouted out, “Hey, Mrs. G,” and sent nice thought to her. Throughout the years, the warm feeling toward Mrs. G only got stronger. 

RIP, Mrs. G. You made a beautiful evening for two strangers. I only wish we had taken a photo together. This is what she looked like, with husband Marty on the right (photo courtesy of The Washington Post. Photographer: Rebecca D'Angelo).