My story is the age-old tale of black and white, my mother being white, my father black. It goes back to the story of an older man with a younger woman. She was a teenager, got pregnant, and had me. She tried to keep me for a while, but for whatever...
My Mother Didn’t Want Me. My Mother Couldn’t Keep Me. Sit with those two sentences. Feel the differences implied by their words. In one, you are rejected and abandoned. Discarded. Given away, never to be thought of again. The other gives a different...
My father was black. My biological mother was white. My adoptive family is all white. So, it wasn’t like they could pretend I had been born from them. My earliest memories of being adopted are my parents talking about it and explaining that...
I had left college in 1967, which turned out to be one of those things where I realized this is not where I’m supposed to be. I’m busy finding a place, finding work, paying bills, and living where the University of Vermont is. Which is...
The Salvation Army had made two attempts to reach my birth mother. They sent two letters, three months apart, one in April, not long after we had located my mother Barbara, and then another one in July. They, like myself, had also left two voice...