Last Thursday, I had the honor of reading in a performance showcase called Verbatim. Milwaukee club owner, novelist and spoken word artist Dasha Kelly organized the event. It took place in the Milwaukee Repertory Theaterâ€™s intimate Stackner Cabaret and was really successful on many levels.
I was intrigued with the invitation because, these days, I rarely share my writing outside of my OnMilwaukee.com articles and blogs. And thereâ€™s a lot of it. I keep a personal blog and write a lot of poetry, letters and creative non-fiction.
It was interesting -- and a little unnerving -- to share my "private" writings. In the end, I really enjoyed the experience and I received very sincere, positive feedback. Hence (God, I love the word "hence"), I thought I would take it a step further and share the piece I read for Verbatim here, too. Have at it.
Humans are often meaner than animated cows
In 2002, I adopted a baby boy from Guatemala City, Guatemala.
Unfortunately, the reality of international adoption boils down to money and whether or not one can cough it up. It cost $28,000 to adopt my son -- almost all of the money went to lawyers -- and the only reason I could afford this was because I accidentally made a couple of lucrative real estate investments in the late '90s.
I start off by saying this because I want to share what it is like to be a white mother with a brown son, but I want to make it clear that by no means am I suggesting it is a hardship. It is, indeed, a privilege.
And yet, my experiences -- I am not sure what else I might also call them -- are undeniable. They are perplexing, infuriating, heartwarming, comical. And so I write about them; here are six vignettes:
We are at a family reunion in a small town in northern Wisconsin. I am straddling on my hip my 13-month-old-son and have my newborn son strapped to my front. I am standing in the garage, drinking a beer (no judgments, por favor) and a distant family member saunters over to me.
"You got q…Read more...