It is not every day you get to meet someone famous. It is rarer still to meet a legend, someone with historical significance who lived the stuff you read about in classroom textbooks. Rare though it may be, such was the case for my wife, daughter and me when, on the eve of the anniversary of the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr., we met Minnijean Brown Trickey.

She was the keynote speaker at the Multicultural Communication Series sponsored by the University of Hawai'i's School of Social Work, Yale University and the Sheraton Waikiki.

In 1957, Brown Trickey and eight other black students, known as the Little Rock Nine, entered all-white Central High School and helped to desegregate the South.

Despite a federal mandate, the nine teens were initially barred from entering the school when Gov. Orval Faubus enlisted the help of the National Guard to keep them out.

President Dwight D. Eisenhower then stepped in and ordered the 101st Airborne Division to protect the black youths. The Little Rock Nine were brave souls who dared to challenge the system. While not a household name, Brown Trickey was a central figure of the civil rights movement and deserves her place among the likes of Thurgood Marshall, Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King Jr.

Interestingly, Brown Trickey "enjoyed" (if that is the right word) a bit of fame and notoriety at the time. The entire Central High integration ordeal played out on national television.

Brown Trickey was interviewed soon afterward. While bright and articulate, she was still simply a teenager. Clearly she knew the significance of the event, but she was surprised by the fame. It was a refreshing difference from our current society that confuses notoriety with importance and fame with significance.

Some 50 years later, I was sitting with my daughter listening to Brown Trickey talk about our future and our continued need for vigilance to protect our civil rights. She spoke with passion and fervor and even a bit of humor. But mostly, she spoke from experience.

My daughter sat in rapt silence, her eyes fixed on Brown Trickey and her head on my shoulder. She knew the significance of this event, and that she was in the presence of greatness. Like Brown Trickey so many years ago, she too is a child.

After her presentation, Brown Trickey met with audience members and even agreed to a photo with my family. She was warm, friendly and devoid of pretense. She hugged us. As we exited the ballroom, I thought about our quest for equality.

Calling me back from my thoughts, I heard my daughter say, "I can't believe I met someone famous from the civil rights movement."

"Honey," I answered, "You didn't just meet someone famous, you reached out your hand to history and she welcomed you with open arms."

Michael C. DeMattos is a member of the faculty at the University of Hawai'i School of Social Work. Born and raised on the Wai'anae Coast, he now lives in Kane'ohe with his wife, daughter, two dogs and two mice.