The Asparagas Separation

 As a child, I can only imagine that my memories are a bit skewed by circumstances, lack of available perspective, and the utter lack of understanding the triggers my parents brought to each life event that i personally experienced.  It was 1972, i was 11 years old.  My parents, particularly my mother, would complain that we had little, and at times just a few years earlier only $.20 in the checking account, yet as i sat at the kitchen counter of our 2nd home in Tucson awaiting dinner I did not know what was about to transpire.  My sister, Joanne, was also joining us that evening.  I believe the main dish was pork chops, but on the counter sat a can of vegetables.  Asparagus!

Now it may be hard to believe, but at 11 years old I have no memory of ever eating asparagus before, but I do have a memory of the taste of it, so it must have happened, or perhaps the smell was enough to dissuade me.  

Dad was at the sink, back to me, and was washing something or perhaps preparing the breading for the pork.  Mom was opening a can of asparagus when i exclaimed (blurted out, casually announced, vehemently opposed - I leave all possibilities open) that I did not like asparagus and that I was not going to eat it.  It was then I experienced something that I have never before seen:  A well of volcanic lava in the form of verbal frustration exploded from my mom (now i will admit, it may have been a little less explosive but the following events make me say no)

The parental go to, from mom, started with the obligatory "When I was a child, we ate what was put before us."

then the childlike response of "I am not eating it!"

"Then you will go to your room and get nothing!"

That is all that i remember of the conversation, but I remember resigning to my room.  There was then some conversation in the kitchen that i was not privy to and a bag was packed and mom was gone.  She had left the house and gone to the Spears' house.  Everett and Iris, a much older couple than my parents and friends that were customers of one of the restaurants that my parents owned.  it was the last time I would see my mom for about 3 months.  and it was now summer time.  School was out and I was hanging out with dad at our other restaurant, the MCW (Museum Chuck Wagon) "The Restaurant."

This is only the second time I had seen cracks in the familial foundation, the other was a night that my father stormed out of the house (back when we only had one), but was only gone for about an hour before calling and begging to come home.  He was not as determined as my mother, or perhaps not as willing to fin for himself.  Mom, on the other hand, was Mrs. Determined.  after spending the weekend at the Spears, we learned that she had moved back into the house out in the desert.  for the next three months I am not sure what conversations my parents had, but there was obviously some renconciling going on, because by the time school resumed, all had returned to normal.

As an adult, I can look back at that time and realize that my place in what happened was a minor nuisance compared to things I was unaware were happening, but it did remind me that children often see things for what their involvement was and that carries on into adulthood and how they then react to circumstances.  And with that deeper understanding, I also realized that my mother and father were carrying their own triggers.  The only way to avoid those types of altercations is through learning, Unfortunately the learning usually comes after the event.  and after the can of Asparagus is opened.

Well, well, well, so how have you been?

Fine, thanks for asking.  it has been a while since I spent time to specifically write something for the blog, in fact I often dismiss the feeling of "need" because I am the only one who truly knows of its existence, but just for shits and giggles, I thought I would catch myself up on what I have been doing.

After a very bitter divorce, but well worth the freedom that followed, i returned to the Oregon Coast at the behest of my former boss, Jon Thompson.  You see after flitting around the country following a broken spirit, I decided to do what was best for me.  I don't often think about taking care of myself, but then I get a little bitter when i find myself in the position of "having" to think of others.  That is some pretty inane thinking when I step back and objectively look at it.

So anyway, I packed up all my belongings from my Mount Juliet, Tennessee residence and headed back to Oregon.  It was quite a prophetic thing that happened.  On the day that I pronounced that I was "finished" being manipulated, the phone rang -not more than an hour later-.  It was my predecessor, Bob.  He informed me that he was quitting and that I could expect a call from Jon inquiring of my current situation.  I thanked Bob and hung up the phone.  30 minutes later it rang again.  It was Jon.  Job offer, quick turn around (three weeks) and I had to be in my seat at the station, ready to go by May 1st.  

This was going to take some divine providence to make happen.  Afterall I had just dropped the divorce bombshell and she was not too happy about it.  I had to file for divorce, get an agreement with my soon to be ex...promise her a butt load of money, and find a way to get back to Oregon with little or no money in my pocket.  Not a big deal.  Been there, done that, and was better off and I knew that this time would be no different.  So I went to work on it.

The biggest difficulty was talking to my then boss, Tony Didier.  You see, I had just been offered the GM position at the new radio station that I had spent the last three months remodeling: WHIN.  The plan was for me to take over the morning show, do news, day to day operations and the rest.  I had committed to the job, but when the phone rang and Jon gave me the details of what I would be earning, it far exceeded what WHIN was offering with half the responsibility.  Added to that that there was the possibility that I would remain in the same town as my ex... and no way was I up for that.  So I broke the news to Tony.  Long story, long... I made all the deals I needed to make, filed the papers I needed to file, rented the truck and car dolly and waved goodbye to the town that I have loved since my youth (ok, since my late 20's).

In a side note, I had agreed to pay my ex $1650.00 a month for 13 months. and pay half of her tuition bill that she had accrued during our marriage.  Fine, no problem.  I knew that the money I would be making would more than allow for that to happen...more on that later.

So I said my goodbyes, hit the road and headed west.  by this time I had about 7 days left before my deadline and i knew that if I wanted to start from a successful advantage, I should arrive a few days early to at least have time with my predecessor to glean what I could from him.  So I beelined for the coast.  I arrived on April 27th of 2017 (an interesting date to be explored later) and I had prearranged living quarters through Tim Sapp at TR Hunter Real Estate.  It was all coming together.  Got to my work, acclimated to the office climate and hit the ground running.  WHEW!  did I say Whrilwind?  I certainly meant to.

The next 12 months were the most difficult 12 months that I can remember, not because of the job, but because of the ex.  I had to block nearly everyone that was a friend of hers that also accumulated over time, because she was starting a Russian-like incursion into my life that consisted of half-truths and some outright lies.  Then there was the financial aspect, while not a burden it was a fight.  I will go back to my "more on that later" segment.

According to the documents signed before a judge and submitted to the courts in Tennessee I had agreed to pay spousal support of $1650.00 a month for 13 months.  Enough to allow her to pay rent and utilities for over a year.  she would just have to provide food and car insurance and gas.  I began paying the money on June first meaning that my last payment would be on June 1st equaling 13 months.  Well, she did not see it that way.  the finalized divorce papers were not signed by a judge until July 7th, which she decreed entitled her to a 14th month of support.  There were threatening letters, texts, phony lawyer letters (or maybe real) demanding another payment of $1650.00.  HA!  I could tell that I was not concerned by the way I argued through the situation.  You see the documents only said 13 payments, not 13 payments from the date of the divorce decree.  It took some time, but she finally quit harassing me after a few demands to cease and desist.  Despite my consistent adherence to the decree she refused to let me abide by the decree and constantly accused me of breaking the agreement, however the court saw it differently.  It was a slow process, but the nasty posts on Facebook quietly calmed down to vague references of her ex rather that the spewing out of my name.  Friends came out in my defense and even shared personal private conversations that painted an entirely different light.

I still have some of the emails back and forth and as I read them I see the different realities we were both living in.  Quite a shame honestly.

enough for now.  If you want to read more, just ask.