Spilling over the 3×5

This week began with two posts by me, or featuring me away from Mama C: one discussing Sam’s reaction to being excluded from certain social dynamics at school, (and being the one who does the excluding), compared to my feelings of being “other” at a bridal shower at MomsofHue. The other appeared at my Open Adoption Blogger interview partner’s site; Adoption Aint for Sissies. Jill’s excellent questions allowed me to reflect on a few things that I have never taken on here in the same voice or light. Please stop by her site, read the interview, and let her know you’re there. She is an amazing woman, who I am honored to have met here.

Then today I was asked to preview an upcoming article that I wrote for Adoptive Families Magazine-which looks stellar. It is due out in May. I had to call Cordell, the owner of a local black barbershop to check out that I had everyone’s names correct. He was amused to say the least about the fact that him and his colleagues were going to be in Adoptive Families Magazine. He said Sam was good for a free line up if he liked the article. Continue reading “Spilling over the 3×5”

Segregation on Sunday

Today at the Green Memorial AME Zion church, the reverend said to a very ethnically mixed congregation, that Sunday is still the most segregated day of the week.

Reverend Lewis said a lot of things that landed in an uh-huh place.

But that was definitely one that I could include here without fear of misquoting, or speaking outside of my area of expertise or system of beliefs.  He went on to say that this church was founded on a belief that people of any hue are invited to worship here. This was very evident at the early service this morning. I have read elsewhere that church is one of the most segregated events that takes place across the country today. Continue reading “Segregation on Sunday”

When the Divine makes itself known: Or how going to church and a near death experience hours later feel related.

I was so moved by the choir that  I cried. After one of the hymns Sam stood up and said; “Amen” and “Thank you, Jesus.” Marcel was a raisin tossing pew climbing menace. This is the brief version of our first encounter with the AME Zion church yesterday.

And, aside from the one woman who moved when Marcel’s aforementioned shenanigans were too much for her, we felt welcomed, and unimportant in a good way.  Meaning, I did not feel as if we stood out at all.  That crazy ego centric fear  kept me home for months. There were many families that looked like ours in some way. The building was small, and packed. The musicians included a drummer and a bass guitarist.  The choir leader’s voice pierced through me like beam of epiphanous joy. I was shaking it all  despite myself.  Sam held his hands up in the air and sang along. Marcel put his hands on his ears and said; “too loud.” Continue reading “When the Divine makes itself known: Or how going to church and a near death experience hours later feel related.”

Mama C discovers evidence of black farmers in Maine in 1993!

I found this at the Salvation Army thrift store yesterday.  I live in Maine.

I only paid .99c for this genuine artifact from 1993 in mint condition celebrating the existence of a multicultural product driven civilization for the one and under set. (It was made by something called Multicultural Toys Preschool.When I Googled them I found no such outfit.) Continue reading “Mama C discovers evidence of black farmers in Maine in 1993!”

Was it the boots?

I went out to dinner last at a new Korean restaurant in town, Happy Teriyaki, followed by dancing to a popular local cover band, The Delta Knights. The drummer, Larry is a warmhearted large black man, who exudes calm, and has endless talent. He took a liking to Sam many years back on a summer’s day when we saw them play an outdoor venue. He gave me child rearing tips then, impressing upon me how important it would be for Sam to know his musical heritage as part of  his cultural background. Last night Larry was dutifully impressed by pictures of the boys that I thrust at him, nearly knocking over the drum set to do so, when we arrived minutes before the set began. Continue reading “Was it the boots?”