I ended up next to Cynthia at the wedding, down at the end of the long wooden table with all the chartreuse trimmings, flowers and even vegetables in the centerpieces, all in that light yellow-green color. It was a humid chartreuse evening we spent under the big tent in the ritzy suburbs west of Philadelphia, hoping the rain would wait.
Cynthia and I got to talking, and afterwards people were talking about how we were talking. Because we were so animated, because we got lost in it, because we kept going, and going, and laughing, and then stopping, and eating, and then talking again! So, it wasn’t just polite conversation, and we barely knew each other. She is the companion, not really girlfriend, could-be wife, but isn’t, of Jason, who is Melinda’s cousin by marriage on her father’s side. At any rate, she’s Black and I’m white, and there weren’t very many other Black people, if any, at this wedding.
So, it became an item that we had such an animated conversation. They asked, “Do Doug and Cynthia know each other from somewhere else?”
I wish it weren’t remarkable. I wish it were just that we talked and hit it off.
It was because we both grew up as military brats, we said. Her father was in the Army; my father was in the Navy. But, that’s all just an explanation after the fact. She’s half-Japanese too, and I lived in Japan when I was young, have visited Japan, and now have clients in Japan. But, she doesn’t feel any connection to Japan, she’s never been, hasn’t thought about going, doesn’t even know anybody who’s Japanese, except her mother. She is American, and she’s African American, and that changes everything. It even changes the story about me, because I’m the one who talked to her, sitting close for a long time, like we had known each other for years.
We did really talk; about our fathers and brothers, about how racism is learned, about whether Charles would turn out the way his brother has… and it was delightful. The next morning at the brunch, she came over to me amid the toast and eggs and fancy fruit, to say how much she had enjoyed the conversation, and I found out she had remarked to other people “how wonderful” Melinda’s husband is.
There’s probably something I don’t know, when I dismiss it like that, and say it shouldn’t be a thing. Because maybe it should be a thing, maybe a big thing, and maybe I should be very public about that kind of connection. That’s what they said, “Well, Doug’s good at that kind of conversation.” Meaning of course, the kind with black people. Such a strange honor.
Yet there was Prince Charles with Doria, Meghan Markle’s mother, also having the strange honor bestowed on him, getting credit for looking so natural talking with her, you know, almost like she’s a regular person and not Black.