Half Time Show

The interesting thing about having a 50/50 child custody time share is this not only means I see my kids half the time, but for the first time in about 15 years I am alone half the time. That alone time carries almost the same responsibility of child rearing. It’s all about time and opportunity.

So, what to do with my free half time? I wrote a list. I penned these ideas in a very quiet moment. With each idea comes the realization that I may meet people and be faced with yet another decision; Do I want to get friends in this process or steep in my aloneness. The latter is so much easier to maintain. My list resembles a cross between a camp itinerary and a bucket list.

1. Take classes – I am not artistic. I can’t recognize my own signature so art class is out. I would take a home improvement class at Home Depot but since being ousted from my house and now in a rental, what’s the point. Dog training school may work except for my obsessive pre-occupation with the fact that owners resemble their pets except me, of course, because I have a black Labrador and I am clearly not Labradorean. I have considered higher education, but the classes are on line and spending all of my half time in front of a computer has a weird Ted Kaczynski ring to it and you saw how that turned out. Classes are out.

2. Dating - Well, maybe. And maybe not yet. But, if I did, I have options. There are singles groups. I remember going to these when I was single many years ago. My feelings back then were they should sell pre-noosed ropes at the door and a floor plan highlighting strong over head pipes that will hold my body weight. It was rare to see such a gaggle of miserable people and a collection of vintage prom dresses at the same time. A singles dance should be a paid theme park attraction to view. Put in Disney world in the new attraction called Loser World. It is a mess. Online dating is good, but even that gets unusual. Apparently there is a “lifestyle” out there that accepts bondage in the same way I accept pasta. For this group, it is just normal and I really don’t fit in to that …yet. For every hour of online chatting, it is equal to 6 months of dating. The relationship on line moves at lightning speed and inevitably turns to sex or innuendo. The only thing missing from online dating service subscription is a supply of hand lotion and a box of tissues. There are specialty online dating sites like J-Date or Plenty of Fish. The Fish site is loaded with very open minded experimenters who, based on their self made profiles, have no intention of ever running for public office. The J-Date is a site for Jewish singles. I look at the ladies’ profiles and I can only imagine exactly how long it would take for them to become whiney and insulting toward me. It probably would not happen…but it might.

3. Get out in public – I like people watching. I am not quiet at the age where I can go unnoticed so I need to pick my perches carefully. For example, sitting in a park alone means I am a pedophile, homeless or a Middle Eastern pilot. The library is passable, but who the hell goes to the library anymore? Join an exercise club might be good but even typing “e-x-e-r-c-i-s-e c-l-u-b” is exhausting. I did try the mall. I always hated going to the mall, and in many ways I still do. A recent trip to the mall proved uncomfortable. I took a break from people watching to use the restroom. The stench was staggering. Out of one of the stalls came a middle aged man. He not only was the cause of the odor, but he also did not wash his hands. I was appalled. When I returned to my bench, this filthy man must have walked past me with his family at least 5 times in the course of an hour. Each time he was holding the hand of one of his many trophies of fertility. It was a child’s little hand held by the viral hand of their trusted dad. Disgusting, and completely distracting. The pigman ruined this day for me.

4. Work – There should be a program offered by your employer to increase your pay if you decide to throw yourself at your job with your free half time. Work is a safe place. All of your things are there. You understand it. You can talk to people if you choose. Working extra hours may fill your time void, but it is not very productive, personally. I don’t see the immediate value, so I don’t do it.

5. Do nothing – This is certainly the easiest, but it is probably the most damning and dangerous. In my neighborhood, I don’t want to be known as the guy that only leaves his house to go to work, or beat his rugs. When I say “beat his rugs” I truly mean beating rugs. I don’t want to live out my last 30 or so years as the old man in the house that if a baseball goes into the yard, the kids leave it there out of fear that the “old man” will come out, capture them and bake them into a quiche. It works well in a fairy tale, but the realty would be bad. Doing nothing also leads to bad things like drinking, gambling and internet porn…and I really don’t want to drink.

6. The book store – If I want to validate my reality I can work on my flexibility so that I can sit cross legged on the floor between the self-help and psychology racks at a Barns and Noble. To solidify the stereotype, I can sip a five dollar Carmel Macchiato as I thumb through the pages of a Tony Robbins diatribe on “what the f&*k is wrong with you” books. If I build up the nerve, I can strike up a conversation with the frizzy haired red headed girl who doesn’t own any makeup and her pimples read like a brail copy of a Susan Grafton novel. Perhaps in the rows and rows of books, I will find myself.

7. Movies – Going to a movie alone is strange. Research Paul Reubens (Pee-Wee Herman) for further explanation.

I am new to this free time. I will figure it out eventually. I know there are good things in this somewhere and when I find it, and it will be great. Maybe I will travel, volunteer, write, run, and act. I will live. I will commit to being a whole heck of lot happier and active than I have been but I just don’t know where to start. These are one half of some very exciting days.

Golden Slumbers

Once there was a way, To get back homeward. Once there was a way, To get back home. Sleep pretty darling, Do not cry. And I will sing a lullabye.

Those John Lennon lyrics ring so true and the following describes our journey.

I took the kids to the beach yesterday. It was the first time I had since leaving their mother. Observing them in this environment and under the current set of circumstances is an amazing experience. The lesson I learned is really not so deep and not so introspective; I forgot how interesting it is to be a kid.

Let’s start with my son. Sure, we bought the five dollar spongy football. What fascinated him more than its aerodynamics was the amount of water it can absorb and hold. Also, his discovery that the tide will bring it back to shore if it is dropped in the waves. My gift from this was his statement saying, “I see how the water moves this football, and it must have been horrible watching the waves move houses in Japan.” It was at this moment that I knew that he gets it. Maybe not all of it, but he gets it. As an adult, I forget the magic in realizing the moment when the dots connect and the world jigsaw puzzle pieces begin to fit together.

After the football play, he embarked on a shell hunt. There were not many shells washing up that day. But, for an hour he watched the waterline, carefully seeing what the white retreating foam would uncover. He would see the wave recede and run to the spot of imperfection in the wet sand to discover its cause. The innocent process of shell collection is a fascinating one to watch through the eyes of an engaged 9 year old boy.

What made this especially interesting was when he returned to our spot on the beach with his treasure. I was surprised to see that of the twenty or so shells in his cup, none of them were complete or especially beautiful or interesting. I asked him why he wanted to keep them. His response was a lesson in tolerance. He said he wanted these because “nobody else would want them and they would never be collected.”

I have to believe this depth of reasoning is being fueled by the dynamics of my divorce. I can interpret his display as both compassion as well as fear. However, the message is clear that he needs trust and protection right now. I am convinced that what happens in the next few months will shape his entire life. I need to respect my role in this.

My daughter brings a completely different set of beach going behaviors. Unlike my son, she never wants to be alone. Her ability to meet and make new friends in literally minutes is outstanding. I think what I especially love about this is that she never, and I mean never either knows or remembers their name. I watched her play for two hours with a little girl and boy whom will forever be remembered as those “two kids on the beach.” What I learned is that you really don’t need all of the details to know that you like someone.

An odd behavior, again a divorce byproduct, is that she constantly asks two questions. The first, “Is that person homeless?” She is so worried about people and I am sure that she is really mostly worried about herself. Her world is so unstable right now. Her sure footing comes from comparing herself to others.

The second question she asks often is “Is this a true story?” She asks this all of the time. She had come across the horrific images of the recent earthquake and asked if it were true. She will see a dead animal on the side of the road and ask if they are really dead. I believe she is testing the permanency of her broken family and simply wondering if this too shall pass. As a dad, I need to make sure she understands that this is a true story.

So, I do tend to gush a bit much over these kids, but you know what? Too bad! I know that we three are in this together and we are starting to smile a lot more lately. It is not always paradise, but it is always fascinating.

Our journey has only just begun.

a not so Hallmark Thank you

There have been way too many times in my life that I have fallen back on the irreverent words of the Grateful Dead, “What a long strange trip it’s been.” The mere recanting of these words not only demonstrates a moment of personal inventory, but also acknowledges one’s own faults and mortality. The process of divorce begs for validation of life’s journey and the rationalization that it is truly a long and strange trip.

I am mostly happy and sometimes sad to be coming to the end of this section of my trip. Eleven years of marriage produced many handfuls of incidental smiles but even the broadest, most ear to ear grin will eventually relax to an unassuming expression. What does not fade are the byproducts of such years, namely my children. So, that by itself makes it ok.

Another odd result of this life’s difficult section is the fateful blessings of friendships formed and reformed. I have amassed more love in 4 months from virtual ghosts of my past than the eleven years of the marriage which I thought was worth the troubles. I hear the paraphrased words of Anne Frank resonating when I confidently say that in spite of everything, people are basically good.
What would compel someone to fly 1100 miles just to be there while the dust settled during the starting days of the vicious post nuptial process? Why would someone, in spite of their own health and personal issues constantly seek conversation and support at all hours of the night? And why am I constantly reminded to not shut down, become reclusive and reach out with no fear of judgment, just nurturing chat?
I am not sure of any of those answers. What I am sure of is it all came when I needed it most and I am pretty damn fortunate. Someone once told me that I cannot count on people, especially those who live far away and have not been close to me throughout my life. That person was very wrong. Maybe I am naïve, but it has been those people that has given me the will and reminded me of the personal power I hold and for that I am thankful.

I am bad at asking for help and worse at saying thank you. I am an incurable cynic that has been humbled in the most profound way. So, I say to my FRIENDS, thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Whether we continue our bonds in the years to come I do not know, but the mark you have left on me is deeper and brighter than a new tattoo.

Thank you and know that you are loved the way that you have loved.