A few months ago, I was having lunch with my father at the independent living center where he resides. He pointed out to me that Deborah Pryce, who is the Congressperson for this district. He also mentioned to me that Representative Pryce had adopted a biracial child and commented in his most sage voice, “She’s going to have problems later on.” I managed to refrain from banging my head on the table in exasperation. Instead, I let out a very deep sigh and patiently explained to my father that as a lawyer who spends a great deal of his time in juvenile court, I know more than any sane human being about what it takes for a child to wind up in a PCC (Permanent Change of Custody). Unless someone resents some charge of positively horrendous conduct on the part of Representative Pryce, I would say that the child she adopted has won the grand price in the adoption sweepstakes. I realize that my father’s perceptions of race relations are rooted in his experiences growing up in Arkansas in the 1920s and 1930s. I also manage to mildly comment that if my father knew anyone of any color or social status who went through life without having any problems, I would very much like to know who they are.