Comment to the Cold

Bravo mom! Prague, Czech, your past follies and foibles, the love and passion you feel for this timeless ancient place communicates wonderfully to the reader, to me! I’ve also ventured far far away with my mother, a perfect A++ OCD personality, must have typed itinerary for every minute of the trip, any trip, every trip…my honest request to her was, let’s fly by the seat of our pants, do the unthinkable and play it by ear! That was our only trip together! A youth hostel overnight stay with young partiers (sp) up all night, a night spent over a bar with bass drums banging till 3 am, oh the list is endless! I’m laughing now remembering all the funny things mother said and did while she politely entertained my youthful enthusiasm for everything! It wasn’t her best trip, it was an “aha moment ” trip…I’m the “Malcolm in the middle”, left handed, red headed, wild mustang that she was never able to tame…I was her blessing and her curse! Your story brought so many memories to mind and yes, my mother realized, as did you, that some of us are destined for uniqueness that defines us in a way that our mothers can never grasp or understand, but eventually accept against all reason and comprehension! It’s called 💝 unconditional love! Your story was wonderful! Thank you so much for sharing with us!

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The Color of Love

I’ve fallen in love with a man of color.  He’s a black man, a beautiful mahogany colored black man. He’s lots of colors actually.  He has an adorable smattering of freckles across his nose, pigment spots on his back and various other places on his body.  His color changes with the seasons, darker in the Summer months, lighter in Winter.

Inside, where it counts, he’s the same color as I am.  Pinks, reds, cell colors,,,we’re the same really.  When I look at him, I see a human being, not black, not white, not any color exactly.  I see a wonderful, loving, beautiful flesh and blood human being.  And I’ve fallen head over heels in love with him.

A friend and I were riding around one day when he spotted another friend at a store looking for a ride.  As he climbed into the back seat, we both looked around and found ourselves abruptly face to face.  I jumped back with a huge smile.  I thought, “how adorable…what long eye lashes! And those huge dimples! Oh my!”

Thus, began a year of accidental meetings about town, telephone conversations and promises of getting together.  He is black.  I am white.  My mother always said that I could get away with almost anything except dating a black man.  I didn’t question her, I just accepted the fact.  Well mother, I never had a reason or an opportunity to get up close and personal to that “one thing” that was forbidden.

The thing that surprises me most is how very prejudice people still are. I was not raised to be prejudice, I always embraced the exchange students, the foreign students, even segregation at my high school amounted to very little. Other cultures, the different cuisines, customs, etc. were and are fascinating to me.  But black people were not from another culture, although their culture is very different from mine, they are still Americans just like my family. I never really questioned why this was a “no, no” to my mother, I just accepted it.

In the coming months, I hope to share some things I’ve learned in the past three years. Mainly directed to the prejudiced, the narrow-minded, the die hards who seem to have a problem seeing our happy faces in public. We respect your opinion and beliefs, we just hope in time you’ll learn to respect ours!