One of those "Signs of the Apocalypse"

It's almost a cliche nowadays -- people use "this must be a sign of the apocalypse" to describe an event that was so unlikely, so improbable, it never would have been predicted. Something that upsets the balance and order of the world as we would like to imagine it.

Something like a couple I've known since the beginning of my first marriage (hint: Reagan was enjoying his first term) who are about to finalize their divorce. She's a few years older than he, but both are in their 50s. Always viewed from without as slightly bohemian, though she consistently held down 9-5 jobs while pursuing some artistic pastimes. They seemed absolutely "made for each other," and it did last over a quarter-century. No kids, but lots of pets.

I've only gotten her side of the story, but she described objective, provable events, rather than a slanted POV, so I'm inclined to believe her. It sounds like a classic midlife crisis, complete with a long-distance affair revealed via cellphone records; makeovers; separate vacations and finally just the vaguely expressed desire to be single.

And so, now two people who seemed like puzzle pieces that fit seamlessly to create a pleasant picture are now having to rethink everything about themselves.

It's disturbing because if this couple can call it quits, there are precious few others I know out there that offer any real assurance of permanency. Click Here to Read More..

RIP Jenny

I got a Christmas card from a second cousin, who told me that her sister Jenny died earlier this year. She'd had a host of health problems that were beyond the purview of 21st century medicine.

She and her husband Tony were married for about 43 years. I remember attending their wedding, thinking Jenny was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.

Not too long after the wedding, I heard gossip exchanged between my mother and Jenny's ... Tony didn't treat her well; they were "having problems." Our families weren't extremely close; we saw each other about once a year at most. It wasn't our family's way to make a big production out of our problems, so the truth of most situations rarely came to light; it just hung like a murky cloud on the horizon and could be forgotten by just looking away.

I saw Jenny at her sister's wedding, and then at mine, but don't remember even a little bit of conversation. I think I may have had those vague, undefined "problems" of theirs in my head and was worried about saying the wrong thing. Again, that's how our family was -- my mother identified me early on as someone who suffered from chronic foot-in-mouth disease, so when in doubt, I kept a distance. I think I still do that.

And yet...just like my parents, who stayed together for 48 years until Mom's passing, this couple hung in there, too. They had no children.

Jenny, I hardly knew ye. Click Here to Read More..

Lingering Effects of Domestic Violence

Okay, now that I've introduced the topic, I might as well expand on it.

So, how did two loud, chronically unhappy and incessantly bickering alcoholic parents affect my life later on?

Did I grow up to marry a physical abuser? No in both cases, though I contend there was emotional abuse the first time around -- more on that later.

Did I become a physical abuser? No.

Am I an alcoholic? No.

So what was the aftermath?

Well, having recently taken the ACOH checklist quiz, I scored 70%, having answered yes to 14 out of 20 questions. Angry people frighten me (though I have been angry enough to scare certain people, such as my ex-husband Doug, mwhahaha...). I often view myself as the oddball surrounded by "normal" people. I tend to avoid asking for help. I have a strong streak of stoicism, in which I feel I must always "be strong and carry on." I have trouble letting go of a course of action even when it isn't working out. I take too long to hold other people responsible when they screw up.

But, realistically, and having had the opportunity to check out the living situations of many other people over the years, I have to insist that it could have been much worse and I came through it relatively unscathed -- though it still took quite a number of years to work through it all.

My marriage to Doug was clearly a reaction to my first 20 years. There was no obvious alcoholism in his family -- though his mom proved to be quite the tippler, especially after she became a widow. His parents always had a very well-stocked bar, but the atmosphere in their home was always that of genteel, middle-class drinking. None of the raucous beer-swilling that went on in my family. Things in Doug's home always seemed pleasant, serene, controlled.

But there was a hidden side to all of this. My background made it impossible to see that unhappiness could still exist even where people always smiled readily and used their best manners. That people could still wound with silence and sarcasm, even if they never cursed or shouted. It was an entirely different variety of family dysfunction. I was so grateful to be in a "normal" environment, it took years, even after the divorce, to see the truth of it.

What I came to understand was, though my parents often threatened to tear the roof off the house with their wild verbalizations, there was never, ever a doubt that they cared.

With Doug's family, you couldn't be sure. And I think that's why Doug adopted his Scarlett O'Hara-like approach to life, that "money is the only thing you can count on."

So during the 15 years I was with Doug, I continually stuffed the realization that we were not happy.

In my case, then, the domestic violence and chaos were too much of a distraction from the warning signals coming from the quieter corners. There was too much of a tendency to say "Oh, quit complaining. At least nobody's kicking doors or throwing furniture through the window!" Click Here to Read More..

Well, this pretty much says it all.

52 As a 1930s wife, I am Average Take the test!

A'right, it's a slow day.

There were 100 questions on this quiz, and many of them served to point up the slightly unconventional character of my marriage to Carl.

I drive, he doesn't.
I pay most of the bills (at least the big ones).
I manage the overall finances (probably not very well).
Carl does the housework.
Carl does most of the cooking.

So, yeah I flunked questions about having dinner ready on time and keeping the house neat. But I passed the ones having to do with being friendly, considerate, affectionate, etc. because I love the guy. I was just born without the June Cleaver gene. Click Here to Read More..

Fading away

No, not me. I'm talking about two entities that are being pre-mourned by conservative pundits.

The first is persons of European descent (i.e. white people).

Pat Buchanan says:

"Recent reports suggest God has another end in store for us.

An Augusta, Ga., group, The National Policy Institute, has meshed the figures on fertility rates with the continents and races on Planet Earth -- to visualize what the world will look like in 2060.

In 1950, whites were 28 percent of world population and Africans 9 percent, a ratio of three-to-one. In 2060, the ratio will remain the same. But the colors will be reversed. People of African ancestry will be 25 percent of the world's population. People of European descent will have fallen to 9.8 percent.

More arresting is that the white population is shrinking not only in relative but in real terms. Two hundred million white people, one in every six on earth -- a number equal to the entire population of France, Britain, Holland and Germany -- will vanish by 2060.

The Caucasian race is going the way of the Mohicans.

Sixty-two percent of Americans told Pew we should do more to protect our way of life. Three-fourths of Americans wanted more restrictions on immigration. Yet all three presidential candidates voted amnesty for the 12 million to 20 million illegal aliens.

Hopefully, the peoples of Asia, Africa and the Middle East, who are about to inherit the earth as we pass away, will treat us better than our ancestors treated them in the five centuries that Western Man ruled the world.

Otherwise, we all go out with a bang.

--

Yo, Pat, I love the "we" and "us." How do your conservative fellows Thomas Sowell, Walter Williams and Larry Elder like that "we?" Don't yo u think they, too, are concerned about preserving "The American Way of Life?"

I love the USA; I do believe English should be our official language, and I do believe that people should go through established legal channels to become citizens. I am also concerned that Islam is morphing into a horrible, primitive, murderous belief system, when it didn't start out that way. I think if the PM (you know who I mean) came back, he'd look at his descendants and give them a Cosby-esque talking-to. It's class and worldview that concern me, not the color of people's skin.

What strikes me most about this little screed is that Buchanan takes it for granted that this "fading away" of the white race is a terrible thing -- because it pertains to the group that HE identifies with! Can you imagine if black people or Asian people were facing a similar crisis of numbers -- would Buchanan be lamenting their existence? Well, maybe... "Where ever will we find people to run our convenience stores???"

Then you've got good ol' Dr. Dobson, writing this in 2003:

It is with great concern that I share with you our considered belief that the institution of marriage is about to descend into a state of turmoil unlike any other in human history. The homosexual activist movement, which has achieved virtually every goal and objective it set out to accomplish more than 50 years ago, is poised to administer a devastating and potentially fatal blow to the traditional family. And sadly, there is hardly a politician who has the courage to utter a word of alarm or protest in response. Indeed, there are very few Christians in positions of responsibility who are willing to use their influence to help combat it.

Researchers have been warning about this looming cultural storm for the past decade. The most prominent among them, sociologists David Popenoe and Barbara Dafoe Whitehead at Rutgers University, conducted a longitudinal study of the family between 1960 and 1999, and concluded that the institution of marriage appeared to be dying.There is accumulating evidence now that they were right. A handful of power-obsessed judges is determined to impose the homosexual agenda on the nation and thereby change forever the legal definition of marriage.

The dire ramifications of what is happening in the United States and other western nations cannot be overstated. For millennia, traditional marriage has been celebrated by every culture on earth as the cornerstone of society. But in the late 1960s and early 1970s, no-fault divorce laws, radical feminism and a sweeping sexual revolution combined here in the United States to rip open the fabric of the family. They left it shaken and wounded. It was a growing apprehension about this situation that led me to resign from my academic position in 1977 and start a fledgling new organization called Focus on the Family. In the 26 years since, we have been working tirelessly to bolster and preserve traditional marriage and parenthood. There have been times of hope and times of despair during this struggle, but overall, the family has been steadily losing ground. Now, the institution of marriage is on the ropes and western civilization itself appears to hang in the balance.

~

Dobson goes on at considerable length, describing how Canada, the Netherlands and Belgium have all made gay marriage legal. He says "...the legal acceptance of homosexual marriage was little more than a pipe dream just a few years ago, but it has become a tidal wave that is sweeping around the globe."

Maybe there's a reason for this, Jimbo!! Maybe people are starting to wise up; they realize it's all we can do to keep ourselves going, and our own lives on track, without staying up even later to try getting laws passed that would keep a certain group of people on a lower social tier.

If Dobson were a divorced man, or someone who had personally experienced some of the issues that gay or unmarried people do every day, he might not be so quick to throw around the we's and us's. Being a white male heterosexual married man works for him. And so he assumes that the structure with which he is most familiar and comfortable should work for everyone.

Click Here to Read More..

I Led Me Not into Temptation.

Very quick post for now.

I was SO tempted to call Carl at work and start talking about a story I'd heard on the radio, about how the Atlanta Braves will be disbanding because they hadn't won enough games and weren't supporting the City of Atlanta with revenues ... and how Turner Field is slated to be converted to mixed-income housing after the Braves finish their last season in 2012.

And then after he started foaming at the mouth on the floor I'd have yelled "Gotcha! April Fool!"

But I didn't.

I was good.

However, when I came home and told him what I almost but not quite did to him, he informed me that if I'd done that, he would have left work, come directly to my office and killed me on the spot. "Because," he said "you are officially sick and twisted."

We have such a sweet marriage... Click Here to Read More..

My short, pathetic relationship history

Ha! I'm in a perverse mood (again) and have decided to review the entire spectrum of guys I've been involved with, in reverse chronological order.

• Carl. We've been married just over 10 years. We got engaged 19 days after we met and married 5 months after that. We have a good, easy, fit-together type of relationship. I sometimes feel like I'm much more of a caretaker to him than he is to me, but in all honesty, I don't need that much caretaking. I like being the person who does more of the work because it makes me feel like I have more power. In past relationships (to be described below) I often had way too little power. I only wish Carl could do a better job of getting along with my son. He rates about a D minus in that department. On the other hand, it's very hard to imagine my life without Carl. Please forgive the cliche, but he completes me.
  
• Dennis. Not much to say about Dennis. He was an occasional FWB that I met on AOL when I had that service for a very short time. Middle aged (over 50 but said he was in his 40s); widowed, a bit on the dramatic side. We had some good phone sex one day and went out on exactly two dates. Our parting was mutual and completely undramatic; we both had other fish to fry. But in the meantime he said I was overweight and should think about trying to go back to my ex. Yeah...
• Steve. Steve was a fling I had while married to Doug. I felt a lot of guilt about this for a long time; it led to me becoming a Christian for 15 years. Steve was wonderful. Sometimes I think I should have left Doug and "gone with" Steve. Steve certainly wanted me to -- he got a bit "Fatal-Attraction"-esque until I broke it off for good and stayed with Doug. My big mistake was telling Doug about it when I thought it was ancient history. I had a lot to learn about life. The best advice anyone could have given me (assuming I was ever inclined to follow anyone's advice) would have been, keep your own secrets. Sharing them causes pain for the other person and for you. Confession may be good for the soul, but it will kill a marriage. Steve wanted a true love for all time and apparently he found one. He's got 2-3 kids now and a very interesting career.
  
• Doug. Doug was my husband for about 13 years and we lived together for a year before that. At the time we met (and for many, many years therefter, until very recently), I was prone to make quick assessments of people and situations and then set them into quick-dry cement. My impression of Doug was that he'd make a great father, because I saw him interacting pleasantly with kids. Doug and I were simply too young -- we were both still living with our parents, on the verge of making some breakthroughs into adulthood, but we took the easy way out and moved in together because we were both afraid of being alone. I wasn't afraid, actually, but my parents were. The thought of me moving out made them both kind of hysterical, so I figured they'd have less objection if I moved in with this big strong-looking guy. I very much put my thoughts and feelings on ice for years -- I had come to a place in my life where I felt that my opinions were worthless ... that I was worthless. What's that movie where the actress says "Oh, it was easy -- I looked for the guy I thought could give me the worst time, and that's the one I went for." I'll think of it at some point. That was basically what I did. I wasn't attracted to Doug other than as a friend. Bob Seger paraphrase: I used him, he used me, but neither one cared. I know that without Doug in my life, there most likely would never have been a Wally, but the frustration at not being able to go back in time and change things sometimes gets overwhelming. Talk about wasted time.
• Danny. A med student who I met around the same time I met Doug. Now him, I was attracted to! Wow! I went after him in a rather bold way (bold for me, at least). We slept together twice. I knew he had a serious girlfriend but thought (hoped) for a time that I would "win" him. I didn't. No longings; it was fun while it lasted. Rebounding from Danny is probably what sent me toward Doug.
• Felix. That's not his real name; none of these are real names! But Felix was "my first." Very good-looking; looked several years older than his actual age. But talk about the interior and exterior not matching up! Felix had been seduced by an older woman when he was in his mid-teens, and as a result, he had one of those madonna/whore complexes that some guys have. A sexy (or sexual) woman was seen as evil. I was at the age where I felt old enough to explore my sexuality, but it was my misfortune to consistently run into guys who either wanted me to be sweet and sexless, or who were not terribly attracted to me physically. That's why Carl is such a keeper -- there is attraction there, and it is mutual. Carl also doesn't try to transform me into someone I'm not. For anyone who's come out of that type of relationship, that one thing is very, VERY important. Felix and I split mainly because of the same problems I should have recognized with Doug: We were too young, still trying to sort out our identities. Felix probably could have kept it going (right to the altar, God help us all), but I felt very smothered and trapped and broke away. He married a submissive mousy type and they now have 2 grown daughters.
  
• Tony. Tony was just one date, mere weeks before I met Felix. Tony had been a classmate, one of those kids people make fun of. So I really didn't take him seriously when we had that one date, just a year after high school ended. But I think back on that one date surprisingly often. It could have gone somewhere, I realize that now. Tony was sexy in an understated sort of way. The kind of guy who could surprise you in the bedroom. We never got as far as his bedroom, though he did give me this one sizzlin' kiss that I still remember. It's probably a good thing I never dated him a second time; I was in a very unstable period of my life and most likely would have made the poor guy's life hell.
  
• Mike. Oh, my mom had a jones for Mike! See, my mother liked men who were tame and useful beasts. She didn't want personality (my dad had plenty of personality). She wanted "the strong silent type" who could fix anything around the house in a jiffy, eat whatever you put in front of them, and hardly ever speak. Mike was like that. It drove me crazy, because I was the quiet type. That's why Felix appealed to me -- he was flamboyant and very "out there." I needed someone to speak for me. Mike did none of that. Which was why as soon as I met Felix, Mike was history. Another case of, the guy has no idea how lucky he was not to marry me.
• Brian: A classmate who pursued me for YEARS. I don't like possessiveness and Brian was brimming with it. I went out with him because he was really persistent, but for awhile I found him so repulsive, I'd get literally nauseated being in his presence. We went to the beach once and I dug a hole in the sand and retched into it. I'm sure he noticed, but pretended not to. Finally, one day I looked at him and out of nowhere began to feel stirrings of attraction. Suddenly, I really liked being with him. We got closer...and closer...and then I discovered that he was one of those madonna/whore types. He had a bunch of alcoholic part-time girlfriends that he saw when I wasn't around, but I was this angel on a pedestal, and the one time we got to where we were actually in his room, on his bed, and my clothes were coming off, he got the worst case of cold feet I have ever seen in my life and abruptly took me home. That was the last time we went out. Many years later, I thought he might be a good match for a friend of mine. They got along great, but unfortunately, he'd never gotten over me, and was using my friend as an excuse to see me, even though I was married to Doug by that time. He treated my friend worse on a progressive basis, really messed up her head, then they split. Fortunately, my friend met someone better, and he finally quit drinking and settled down. About time. What a strange case.
• Tom: We came close to having actual sex, but it never went past manual and oral -- we were both 17 and pretty conservative. Tom had plenty of issues; he saw his life as some sort of sweeping, epic novel. But I really enjoyed his house and his family. Tom and I broke up at the end of high school and he died suddenly in freshman year of college. It was very hard dealing with that. Took me about a year and a half before I started feeling normal again.
  
• Dave: If he ever looks back at our time together, I'm sure he'll think our breakup was racial (one of his parents was not Caucasian), but it absolutely was not. I simply didn't think I was "cool" enough for him. I thought I was an awkward nerd and being around him compounded that feeling until I really started acting like one. I couldn't take it after awhile and gave him back his class ring with no fanfare.
  
• Maurice: I met him through a mutual friend while I was dating Jeff (below). Maurice was really sexy and I probably would have let him seduce me, but he thought I was taking too long to make up my mind and stood me up for my birthday. I now realize he was a total creep and hope he dies of some unpleasant disease.
  
• Jeff: I dated Jeff for about 5 months. I let him touch parts of my body but felt very uncomfortable with it. He wanted intercourse, but I was only 16 and just could not accept that idea. In order to avoid such an eventuality, I broke off the relationship.
• Ed: I met Ed before I dated Jeff. I found Ed very attractive, but apparently it wasn't mutual. The "friend" who introduced us volunteered to give Ed aid and comfort whenever he wanted; she told me she was meeting him every night "to talk him into" dating me. Apparently she wasn't all that persuasive... Just one of those memories you'd just as soon throw in the recycle bin.
  
• Bubba: Bubba was not someone I was attracted to in any way, shape or form. He was friends with Brian. I went out with Bubba exactly once. When Tom died, Bubba called me up and asked me out on a date "to take my mind off it." He was a total creep and a toad. Yech.
• Burt: My first actual date. It lasted about 3 hours. I was in the first semester of 9th grade; my friend was already totally boy-crazy. This was on a Saturday. The plan was for Pam and me to walk down to a local store, meet these two guys who were from another town, and walk back to Pam's house. All Burt did was talk incessantly. He never asked me a single question or (as far as I can tell) even took a breath in between sentences. Yes, I'm sure he was nervous, but why do guys have to act so bizarre when they're nervous? I think I said one sentence the entire time I was with this motormouth. I said hi to Pam's little sister; Burt quit babbling and stared at me as though I'd farted or something. When I didn't follow my sentence up with anything, Burt resumed babbling. Needless to say, there was not a second date. I think Pam started dating him, in fact.
  

And that's my relationship history, as far as men I've actually dated, bedded or wedded. There have been a few other relationships where there was no sex or potential sex of any sort but that's for some other post. Click Here to Read More..

Heavy Stuff, Part 1

Okay, after more than 2 years of toodly-doodling my way through this blog, I am ready to sit down and unburden myself about the main problem in my life. People on MySpace and LJ know who I am, but I don't think anyone here does, so it feels more anonymous and safe.

It's my son. "Wally" is 18, and I can't get over the incredible contrast between his life and mine when I was that age. We're roughly 31 years apart in age. Whereas, I lived with my parents (in the same house, mainly with the same furniture!) for nearly 23 years, he has bounced between his father and me; he's lived in 4 states, 4 different places in one state, and is currently homeless in another.

He hasn't finished high school yet. He is on his own, trying to finish and get to college. My heart just aches for him, but I can't think of anything really concrete that I can do for him, other than just be there when he calls; listen, and try to come up with some ideas for him.

Here's a rough chronology.

He was the most wonderful, fantastic baby who ever lived. Okay, I'm his mom and I'm biased, but he really, truly was incredible. He was lovely to look at, he smiled and laughed and just brought a lot of joy to my life, his father's, his grandmother's, and pretty much anyone who met him. I was in awe of him.

Problems? For his first 2 months or so, he had pretty bad colic, but I had to have surgery not long after he was born, necessitating a switch from nursing to bottle-feeding. The more dense formula seemed to satisfy his hunger better -- he was a big baby, over 9 lbs. -- and definitely calmed him down.

We always worried about him, as parents do. He didn't get his first tooth until he was more than a year old. He started trying to walk close to a year, but didn't really "take off" until he was 15 months old. I was a slow walker too -- 18 months -- but then, I was a preemie. I think he was average for toilet training -- 2 years, 9 months -- but there were some odd glitches, which I'll get to later.

I think his father and I put a lot of pressure on him in the preschool years. His father had this odd notion that school was really just for socialization, and that academic skills needed to be taught by parents. So if he couldn't read by age 4, it was the end of the world. I'm sure he sensed this pressure.

He used "w" for "r" and "l" for a long time, but, as was very typical of him, he somehow just figured out the right way to pronounce things on his own, in his own time.

Last of all, he sucked his thumb until he was almost 11. This one especially gave his father fits. He tried wrapping gauze and adhesive tape around Wally's thumb to break him of the habit, but Wally was in preschool and we got some veiled threats from the caregivers that they might report this as abuse if we didn't ease off. So Wally kept sucking that thumb for years ... and then one day he simply stopped.

Right up until he left home at age 17 (and who knows, possibly still), Wally had encopresis. He would hold it in for days sometimes, until he "had an accident." I remember spending a lot of time washing his underwear in hot water with bleach. Then he'd decide to "go" at odd times. He'd wait until we were visiting a neighbor, then go into their bathroom, lock himself in, and stay there for the better part of an hour. Inevitably, he'd clog up the toilet, to my tremendous embarrassment. Sometimes he'd clog our toilet too. The last episode was a few months before he left home. I got a call at work -- "Hey mom, both toilets are clogged. I've been using the plunger but nothing works." That time, the plumber cost me 80 bucks.

All of these things were happening while his father and I were still together. We didn't fight in any kind of loud way (like my parents), and there really wasn't too much tension, at least until Wally was around 4. Then things started changing; there was a lot of stress. But the thumb-sucking and encopresis were already present. For these things, I cannot blame the divorce.

Wally went through something of a bad patch when he was about 4 or 5. His father and I split when he was 5 and a half. The break came boiling up, seemingly out of nowhere. I gave in on a lot of things, mainly because I wanted to keep the atmosphere calm for Wally and not frighten him. But by that time, Wally was demonstrating traits that he'd carry with him right into young adulthood.

I guess Wally can best be described as passive-aggressive. His shortcomings will sneak up on people, and I suspect there's a strong element of self-sabotage in him. His personality is impeccable. He has a ready smile, gorgeous eyes, a very adult-like demeanor (he's always had that -- people were remarking on it when he was only a toddler), and a lot of very obvious intelligence. But just when everyone's relaxing, feeling confident in Wally, he will "pull something." People will then look twice at him, with that unmistakable glint of doubt in their eyes. When he was 5 or 6, he decided one of his friends wasn't "cool" enough for him, and drove her away in tears. I'm surprised the girl's mother wanted to speak to me after that. It was inevitable that people would start out giving Wally an A+ in terms of personality, and gradually, it would go down to a C or a D. Once we went to a store and he smiled at the cashier. She smiled back, and then Wally decided to put on a mean face. The cashier actually looked frightened. Other times, Wally would start repeating words at random. We were in a restaurant, seated near an old couple, and he started chanting "Mee-maw." It was in the south, and that's what grandmothers are often called. It wasn't something he ever called his own grandmother -- he just seemed to pick the right set of syllables out of the air that would be the most disruptive at that moment. 95 percent of the time, though, he was very well behaved in public. That's why episodes like that were so disturbing. You could never plan for them, or figure out where they came from.

No question, he had a turbulent childhood. After the divorce, I tried to keep things light, and for awhile it worked, mostly. We moved into an apartment complex and made friends pretty quickly. It was right at the beginning of the summer, and we had a pool to swim in and new places to explore. The apartment was small, but our house had been huge, and Wally often lost me in it. I felt good that he could always walk around the corner and find me in the next room.

But around the time he turned 6, just starting kindergarten, his closest friend DJ's parents also split. That one was traumatic: a cheating husband, a murderously jealous wife, threats, hostility, open warfare. Everything I'd tried to shield him from, was getting thrown right into his face with no warning. Suddenly, he was "grown up" enough to understand everything that was going on and it hit him hard. His father was getting his life together and wasn't even sure he wouldn't move out of state, so he put a deliberate distance between him and Wally, only seeing him for occasional visits. And very soon after that, he met the new Mrs. Wally liked her just fine, which was a relief. She was a pretty nice person with her own son, a few years older than Wally. Things were reasonably peaceful. Wally adapted to all the changes -- new kindergarten, new after-school, Mom's new job, and soon, a new and bigger home when I bought a condo.

At this point, Wally was in first and second grade. Once we went to the school grounds a week or two before it opened so he could ride his bike around the paths and check the place out. When he was out of my sight for about 5 minutes I went looking for him and discovered he had joined up with two boys who were busy throwing rocks at the cafeteria windows!

From the age of 2 or so, Wally was a nut for clothes. He was very particular about which shoes he wore, and would refuse to wear a pair he didn't like, even if I'd spent a lot of money on them. After the divorce, we found ourselves living always in a poor part of town, but sending Wally to school in a neighborhood full of affluent people. Later in the school year, when it became obvious that I didn't make enough money to buy him all the cool clothes the other kids wore, Wally began using the Lost & Found as his own personal thrift shop. When one kid challenged him that he was wearing a stolen jacket, I found out what he was doing and put a stop to it. But quite often, classmates would invite him out, and if I gave Wally ten dollars, he would end up needing 20 to keep up with the other kids, and invariably someone else's parents would end up paying for it. Even at an early age, Wally would keep this from me. When I found out and tried to pay the parents back, they would tactfully refuse, saying it was worth it to have Wally's company. When Wally wanted to make a good impression on someone, he could do so very easily.

Things went on reasonably well until just before Wally's 8th birthday, when I happened to meet a man who lived in our condo complex. The attraction was immediate and mutual. We got engaged less than 3 weeks after we met, and were married 5 months later.

"Carl" and I are still happily married, 10 years later, but when it came to Wally, it was a rough go. Those were the years when Dr. Laura was at her peak of fame, and you know I suffered with guilt for having brought the complications of a step-parent into Wally's life. Especially when it became obvious that the two of them really couldn't stand each other.

Carl was light-years away from Wally's father, and that's always been one of the things I liked best about him. Wally's father, "Doug," liked to live in the intellectual sphere. He had a "small-market" mentality. Anything that was popular or known by more than 10 people was "common." I had been with Doug since my early 20s and had moved out of my parents' house and directly into his, so in many ways, he was just another parent to me. It took a long time to work my way out from under Doug's psychological influence. Doug always made me feel stupid and incompetent.

Carl had limited education and limited income potential, though he was always steadily employed. Unlike Doug, whose parents had a stable, upwardly mobile marriage, Carl came from a single parent family, with loads of siblings and half-siblings, and had grown up in abject poverty. When he looked at me, he must have thought I had a lot of advantages. And for my part, being with Carl helped me feel like a "leader" in our relationship, rather than just a subject.

Carl treated me great, but somehow, when he was anywhere near Wally, all his childhood feelings of sibling rivalry and deprivation came flooding in. He could not see Wally as a kid, while he was an adult. It became constant competition. They even fought over the last slices of bread in the loaf, or a plate of brownies I'd brought home from work.

Carl was not physically abusive toward Wally -- he never touched Wally, and if he had, I'd have shown him the door. But there were numerous times in our marriage that I entertained thoughts of another divorce. There was hardly ever a moment's peace between them. When Carl would start complaining and finding fault, Wally would retreat into a sullen silence. I've done a lot of second-guessing over the years. When I ask myself if I'd "do it all over" with Carl, knowing then what I know now, the answer is no. I would not. I love Carl. We have a good relationship as a couple. But Wally suffered for it; there's no question. I kept hoping things would work out. They didn't. Wally became more and more angry and cynical, but as always, it was kept under wraps. Wally was always able to control the outward expression of his feelings, but had mastered the passive-aggression. Wally never did anything overtly scary -- he just dropped little hints that were supposed to be scary. Carl was the one who would snoop around in Wally's dresser and find things to show me. Like a cigarette lighter, or a racy magazine. Then Wally would lie and say he was "holding it" for a friend.

Carl, Wally and I moved twice out of state. One place was Wally's favorite, but we were only there for a year because the job situation didn't pan out. We moved back to "home base," and Wally became even more discouraged. By this time, he was ready for middle school. Before our move, I had asked his father if he thought he might want to take Wally, since Wally was now old enough to be needing more of a male influence (someone he didn't hate, like Carl). Doug said no, he didn't feel ready for that kind of responsibility, and that was why Wally ended up moving twice in the space of a year with us. After we moved back, Wally spent one more unhappy school year with Carl and me. Things were much worse now, because the move had eaten up a lot of money and my job situation was not stable. I'm sure Wally got tired of feeling like he was poor. During that time, Doug and his wife moved several hundred miles away, and Doug informed Wally that once they were settled, Wally could join them. Wally was, of course, thrilled. His dad and his wife were making a lot of money at that point; they lived in an affluent area and Wally would be going to one of the best public schools.

And so, a few months shy of age 13, Wally left my home. I missed him, but also felt relief that someone else was in charge of the complicated needs of an adolescent. I could work longer hours and relax a bit.

Things were reasonably good for the next 3 years or so. Looking back, I can't believe how quickly they went by. I saw Wally a few times a year when he came to visit. Once, he got off the plane and had grown so much (his hair included) that it took longer than usual to recognize him.

I was happy that Wally had a chance at the type of lifestyle he always seemed to have craved. But there were problems. I never got the whole story from his father, but bits and pieces came across, and I knew the situation was far from rosy.

Wally had been "acting out" in strange ways, and most of them were the usual passive-aggressive stuff. He kept his room a pigsty, despite the new furniture and huge walk-in closet. He continually "forgot" to do the chores he'd agreed to. He tried to keep his school progress a secret. He continued the habits he'd formed while with me -- letting his friends' parents pay his way when they went out, rather than asking his father for money.

Less than a year after he went to live there, he was in serious trouble. He'd begun pilfering things that belonged to classmates. There were always suspicions, but he managed to deflect them, until his father searched his room and found someone's wallet. Wally came very close to Juvenile Detention. From what I heard (mostly from Wally), he got counseling, wrote an apology to the offended party, and had the incident expunged from his record.

But the worries lingered. He came down for a visit and I brought him to the office where I was putting in some overtime during the holidays. We only spent a few hours there, but while I was working at my desk, I suddenly smelled the distinctive odor of a match being lit. I raced through the office (no one was there except Wally and me) and asked him if he'd lit a match. He said he hadn't; I knew (and still know) that he had, and as proof, he continually asked me throughout the rest of the day if I'd ever figured out where "that match smell" had come from. Wally was not a good liar.

My contact with Wally was sporadic over the next couple of years. Whatever problems he was coping with were mostly kept from me. Either it was a matter of no one wanting to worry me, no one wanting my input, or simple pride on Doug's part of wanting to handle all of this himself.

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