On a personal note

Posted by Lizzie on 05/22/05

Baltimore is one of the few cities with a preponderence of interracial couples in the William S. Cohen/Peggy* Langhart tradition instead of the used-more-frequently-in-highly-politicized-films Quincy Jones/Peggy Lipton tradition. When yet another one came into a restaurant where we were eating dinner, we noted to the BOOG how funny it was that no one even looked anymore, whereas when we were younger, our family — William S. Cohen/Peggy Langhart 4-Ever!!!!!!!! — used to silence a restaurant with our arrival. Now, a fellow halfie tells me we have tote bags and special stationary. Call me when we get the casino rights. [Thanks, Emily!]

* Janet. Keep wanting them both to be Peggy.

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  1. “I look all white but my dad was black.”

    Comment by Pete Townshend — 5/23/2005 @ 8:13 am

  2. i think you mean janet not peggy langhart.

    Comment by sharon — 5/23/2005 @ 7:08 pm

  3. I keep wanting them both to be PEggy!

    Comment by Old Hag — 5/23/2005 @ 9:47 pm

  4. Most inexplicable Blake poem ever, though strangely compelling:

    My mother bore me in the southern wild,
    And I am black, but oh my soul is white!
    White as an angel is the English child,
    But I am black, as if bereaved of light.

    My mother taught me underneath a tree,
    And, sitting down before the heat of day,
    She took me on her lap and kissed me,
    And, pointed to the east, began to say:

    “Look on the rising sun: there God does live,
    And gives His light, and gives His heat away,
    And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive
    Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday.

    “And we are put on earth a little space,
    That we may learn to bear the beams of love
    And these black bodies and this sunburnt face
    Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove.

    “For when our souls have learn’d the heat to bear,
    The cloud will vanish, we shall hear His voice,
    Saying, ‘Come out from the grove, my love and care
    And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice’,”

    Thus did my mother say, and kissed me;
    And thus I say to little English boy.
    When I from black and he from white cloud free,
    And round the tent of God like lambs we joy

    I’ll shade him from the heat till he can bear
    To lean in joy upon our Father’s knee;
    And then I’ll stand and stroke his silver hair,
    And be like him, and he will then love me.

    Comment by Old Hag — 5/23/2005 @ 10:06 pm

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