realtalknic

You know it's summer in our house when that 1st Saturday comes and the macaroni salad is in the fridge waiting for the boys to come and get it. It's a summer Saturday staple. From Memorial Day to Labor day....you can count on it. As I stood at the island making it this week I found myself thinking back to an incident where my traditional tuna macaroni summer salad told us everything you need to know about how to talk about race. With love and laughter. We were heading out on our family vacation, a 12 hour road trip from NJ to Disney. Cell phones weren't a big deal then but we were fancy with walkie talkies in each car. After about 3 hours we decided to hit the rest stop and have some lunch. My best friend, who is white, had packed a beautiful basket of cold cuts and breads. My kids ran to her basket and made sandwiches. I had a cooler filled with my tuna and macaroni and while we eat healthy most of the time....I had fried up some chicken for the road. Of cours...

If I see one more side eye, or hear one more disparaging remark about folks adopting outside of their race or same sex couples adopting children I may have to scream! These comments always seem to come from folks that have not adopted anyone so I am wondering how they became experts. While I have filled my home with various relatives from time to time and three kids of my own I have never adopted........but I am adopted and that experience gives me a strong point of view. In my case, my parents (mostly my Mom) saw someone else's bad situation of drugs and poverty and stepped in so a new baby wouldn't be added to that mix. Lower middle class themselves, a new mouth to feed wasn't in the plans......they were more Florida and James than Claire and Cliff  but they made it work for a short time. Then, MOM, made it work by herself for the rest of the time. No questionnaires and home visits......just a ride home from the hospital. And in that moment, I was saved from what was su...

Some people have sunsets and a knight in shining armor…….my story is a little different. I fell completely in love on a rainy day in a Philadelphia cemetery. I met my future husband while working retail for a luxury brand as a teenager. He walked in wearing a Pelle Pelle jacket (ladies from the 80’s? You know the look, hmmmmm mmmmmm) and a bad boy attitude. Being the good girl that I still am…..I couldn't resist! We dated between 2 states. He was as fascinated with my suburban upbringing as I was with his inner city one. We liked each other. It was comfortable. We moved easily from fancy dinners to drive- thrus with a soundtrack of Babyface and Boys2Men playing softly in the background. I was a starving college student holding strong to my independence. I may have been broke but I didn't show it. I had my own. When he filled my gas tank up after a visit he had no idea how grateful I was. He was generous with all things except long conversations. Being the chatterbox th...