This is why I am so happy for Meghan to have come along.
I fell in love with a black man. Despite the fact that I had never really “met” a black person until I walked into my dorm room as a sophomore transfer student at the University of Maryland. I walked into my dorm room and there she was in all her African American beauty, Teri Walker (nee Brown). Teri was also from Cleveland (Pepper Pike actually, what are the chances?) But, Teri was from the East side of Cleveland — the “well to do” part of Cleveland and I was from the West side — “new money or no money.” She was active in the Black Student Union at The University of Maryland and I was VP of my very Southern sorority. We talked. We had the same Estee Lauder products. We coexisted and became good friends. We respected each other. We learned. Her friends would watch me blow dry my long blond hair with awe and we would giggle. I taught her to flirt and not be so serious. We ended up parting after one year — me to the sorority house (of course) and her to her active focused studies. We saw each other around and were always glad to see each other.
I met Chance shortly after graduation. I spotted him in the lobby of my office building. At 22, I figured “stalking” was the best plan to meet my man. This went on for 5 months…call me persistent. Following him to lunch, bumping into him, researching him (long before Google), calling his law firm of 170 lawyers and asking the naive receptionist if she could tell me the name of the new young black attorney that just joined the firm? Her reply with no shame “Oh you mean the only black attorney?” Yes, that’s the one…
We finally met. We began to wonder if we were falling in love. We LIVED together — can you imagine — white and black — Catholic and NOT — rich and poor — AND NOT MARRRIED (PS we moved to Teri’s part of town — the East side — turns out richer and a little more accepting.) My parents would pull up in front of our condo and beep to take me to lunch — never venturing to come inside. My Mom would finally resign to say, “well…I’m coming to terms with it…I will just have to buy black baby dolls.” My dear Irish grandmother replying to my Father after he mildly scolded her for a racist remark and reminding her “Chance is black.” Her reply — “no he’s not — he’s gorgeous.” Yes, Grandma Gooch he is — inside and out.
When we fell in love almost 25 years ago, Chance and I would talk about a “tan world someday.” We married and made our own tan family;)
We have three beautiful exceptional children. Great times. Really hard times. And with every day we are more grateful for our flexibility and resilience as a married couple.
I am so proud and honored to have married a black man. A man of standards. A man of understanding. A man of grace. A warrior of life as an unwanted result of a teen pregnancy at the age of 15 and 17. The beautiful result of a never married Mom who in all her negative life experience warriored through as a strong mamma to raise two of the most amazing black children you can imagine. And my family no longer sees color. And my parents perhaps love my husband as much as they love me;)
And Meghan, The Duchess of Sussex, somehow in her young wisdom knows — love and marriage take work but love and understanding triumph all.
On our wedding day, we walked out of The Georgetown Chapel to a Gospel Choir singing “Oh Happy Day.” (This is a picture of us outside the chapel seemingly celebrating — “wow, how did we pull this off?!”)
To Harry and The Duchess of Sussex I say…
“Oh Happy Day!”
