Binge-drinking isn't even remotely compatible with parenthood, so Sunday mornings find my husband and me clear-headed, albeit bleary-eyed-tired from a long week of toddler-chasing. We cling to two other vices when the baby's asleep--chain-smoking and coffee-chugging--out on the porch. I'll usually start the conversation with a button-pushing rant for my deep-thinking, artist-husband, who minored in sociology, to go off on. I'll say, "Why do the fast-food joints put the non-English-speaking workers on the business end of the drive-through speaker?" He'll launch into his fine-tuned speech about how assimilation into someone else's culture is bad, how America is not and shouldn't be a melting pot. "It's more like a salad bowl," he'll say, "where diverse cultures remain distinct unto themselves yet blend effectively into a rich and interesting whole society."... More >>>