Oklahoma - A Time to Die

Coincidences, happenstance, bizarre outrageous behavior - I consider all of these to be signs from the universe. Sometimes I am tuned in, paying attention to the warnings placed in my path - the flashing beacons that are there to keep me out of the woods.

Yet at other times, I am sleeping at the wheel, letting my own convoluted thoughts steer me in the wrong direction, veering off the road until I crash into a tree and wake up slapping myself upside the head in grateful disbelief.

Right now, at this very moment in my life, I am so highly tuned into these divine signals - the frequency, pitch and tone of the messages I am receiving are along the lines of having the Mormon Tabernacle Choir in my head serenading me with a multitude of  HAL - LE - LU - YA's.

This brings me to the most recent soul awakening conclusion revealed to me during my Thanksgiving trek back to Oklahoma - the place of my birth, my home for the first 37 years of my life. My beloved red dirt wearing, tornado flying, flat as a pancake, peaceful, low tax, friendliest-people-on-the-face-of-the-earth Oklahoma is not my home anymore.

When I first moved to Wisconsin, it was not easy. Yes, it was exciting and necessary to move in order for us to begin our new life; but leaving my home state was immensely troublesome. I was often homesick. Whenever I found myself with a travel layover, I would seek out the gate with the departure to Oklahoma City. I remember sitting at those gates basking in the Oklahoma that surrounded me. I would soak in their warmth and drink from their accents, feeling completely at home with them.

People from Oklahoma have a certain look about them. You can see a softness, even when they are abrasive-- it's still there; the gentle, familiar, cushy undertone.

This trip was different. Something was not right. I wasn't recognizing them anymore. Had they changed or was it me? It had been almost three years since I had buried my mother. Dad was gone, two out of three brothers are dead and the remaining one has checked out. Seeing their children, my nieces and nephew, was a joy and a privilege.  It made me want to see them more. I have extended family and many friends who always welcome me with the kind of love that can only be found at home; yet, I felt myself longing to be back in Wisconsin.

I wanted to go home.

Perhaps it was the trio we encountered at the hotel swimming pool. I refer to them as Gansta Dude, Crack Whore and the Prostitute they brought along for some "adult" fun while my kids were playing nearby. Crack Whore sucked, no chewed, on a pacifier while Gansta Dude wore an overstuffed parka inside the moist heat of the indoor pool and Prostitute was asked to perform various duties ranging from fist fights with Crack Whore to sex in the hot tub.

My kids were kept busy with assorted forms of lifeguard/shark/victim role playing, marco polo, etc. They didn't notice. My mother bear instincts were telling me to play calm and ignore them (while keeping one eye glued to them), to not engage in a confrontation and to not report them to the front desk. They left after a half hour or so.  I think we were spoiling their ambiance.

I wanted to go home.

There was a beggar or two or three or four at every major intersection, all holding various cardboard signs explaining their plight. My children wanted to give them all money.  As I drove along, they kept shouting for me to stop as their read aloud from the dilapidated placards, this one was a former Marine, this one is old, that one is homeless, mom, mom, mom, we have to help this one, look mom, look--he's holding a sign with a happy face on it.

I wanted to go home. 

The signs were everywhere, pointing me in the direction of Wisconsin; but perhaps none more-so than my shock and disbelief at the condition of my last remaining brother and his house, our house, the house I grew up in had begun to fall into disrepair. My brother's wife is a beginning level hoarder. She doesn't have any dead cat carcasses, piles of human feces or goats eating through her walls but she is well on her way.

My brother is drinking again and he will die soon, just as the other two had done, by slowly drinking himself to death. The Hepatitis C will make certain work of it. I've seen it before, it is an appallingly monstrous way to die.  This is why I was so easily convinced to leave Oklahoma over nine years ago. The first brother had died, with me at his bedside and the second one was well on his way.

(To be continued...) 


Art Credit: Bouguereau Girl in the Cross Timbers of Oklahoma,by Margaret Aycock

Shit Creek - It's Not Just a Tourist Attraction

I suppose I should give you fair warning at this juncture.

Because we are irreparably, irrevocably and irreversibly tied together through our kids, there will NEVER be a conclusion to the Mr. Sunshine (with much more than a chance of pain) postings.

There seems to be no end to the insanity, or as I like to call it exceptional blogger-fodder.

There is no and has never been any child support between us, we share joint custody. I'm certain that's why we get along so well. However, there are bills that come which need to be shared. These are expenses relating to education, medical, extra curricular activities, etc. For the most part, we have always reconciled these balances and paid our equal share to the other.

About a year ago, I noticed Mr. Sunshine was experiencing a sudden change in his financial status. The kids were talking of these awesome, amazing and quite expensive things dad was buying them. I was hoping he hadn't fallen back into the old habits of spending on credit and pretending to be something he was not.

Then the really big purchases materialized - a $90,000 lot to build a home, paid in cash, an engagement ring and a car for the fiance, paid in cash, and a three week cruise to the Mediterranean, you guessed it, paid in cash.

Mr. Sunshine couldn't have reestablished his credit by that much, that fast. The dude must be pulling in some ginormous chunks of moolah. When I asked him, he told me he was running an Ebay business on the side and had stumbled upon a great opportunity. Within six months or so, he left his "real" job, once again to pursue his dreams of being the proprietor of his very own entrepreneurial enterprise.

This was not unexpected, who would work if they didn't have to? Good for him.  You go, Mr. Sunshine!

Then that freakish little devil that occasionally appears on my shoulder thought - I could be a greedy, money-grubbing ex wife and go after him for child support since he so obviously far exceeded my level of income but it was just a fleeting fantasy.  The better part of me, the chubby, diaper-wearing, cherub that has to counter balance the devil gave it a resounding "Nah".

Good thing I didn't. Turns out, that "great opportunity" he had stumbled upon involved taking inventory from his employer and selling it to a wholesaler overseas. Apparently HIS freakish little devil was a better negotiator.

As the story unfolded, or as he tells it - he left the employer, stopped running the Ebay operation and started his new Ebay business, which is similar to the other one but without all the stealing, fraud and stuff. He left without being caught and thought all was well and right with the world until he received notice that he would be facing federal charges, damages in excess of half a million and possible jail time.  Oops.


Now Lord knows, I'm a reasonable woman.  When he came over to tell me all this - out of fear it would hit the press and I would find out anyway - my main concern was for him. Nobody wants to see the father of their children go to jail. When he was pulling in the big bucks, I was happy because I knew the kids would always be taken care of.  I was equally as devastated to learn - he was now so far up shit creek, he might never be found again.

Mr. Sunshine's confession had occurred in late summer, just before the kids were to start school.  In an effort to ease his burdens, I covered all the back to school expenses along with paying some medical bills that included counseling for The Commando. I told him he could pay me in increments if it would help. If I had enough money to cover all those expenses without hurting my own cash flow, I would have done so, but alas, I'm blogging for free, ya know. Girlfriend hasn't been optioned for a book, well at least not yet anyway.

Last week, needing money to pay some bills, I asked him if he could just pay me something towards the balance owed. He refused to pay me anything, saying he did not agree with the counseling charges.

In his opinion, The Commando is fine, doesn't need any counseling.

Okay, then just pay me for the educational expenses and we can deal with the rest later.

No.  Unless you agree to drop the other charges entirely, I won't pay you anything.

Look, if you're hurting for money, I understand.  Just give me $200, less than half the educational cost.

No. Listen, AN- GE -LA, I will not pay you anything!  I made you an offer and you turned it down so you will get nothing. No soup for you. Next!

I then reminded him of all the health insurance premiums I had been covering at no cost to him, along with tons of other things I've let slide all in the name of sweet peace and harmony.  I told him if he forces my hand and I have to take him to court, it would be a substantial amount of money. If you will simply show me you are a man of your word and you will honor your obligations to your children, I will continue to work with you but you gotta give me something.

I don't think I need to tell you his answer.

I met with an attorney yesterday and we're moving ahead. The total amount he owes me exceeds $8,000.  I am hoping to receive a judgment and then attach a lien to that expensive piece of land before the court orders him to sell it for remuneration to his employer.

I am broken-hearted over the loss.  We have lost our ability to hang out together and show mutual respect and appreciation in front of our kids. We are taking that precious gift away from them. I am saddened but I believe all will prevail.  One day, everyone will know what went on and each of us, Sunshine and I, will have to be accountable to our children for our actions.

I do hope for the best and I pray everyday that he won't go to jail. I hated it when he pretended to be something he was not in front of the kids. "Daddy is going to get elected and change the world", he would say as he headed off for the results of another failed election.  Like many other 11 year old boys, The Commando still believes his dad has super powers.

Now, I wish he truly did too.

Mr. Sunshine - The Epilogue

Mr. Sunshine and I, aided and abetted by father time,  worked through the whole gambit of emotions after our divorce. I know it seems odd, but on the very DAY of our divorce, we walked from the courthouse into the parking lot and decided to spend the rest of he afternoon together, sitting, reflecting; talking about past, present and future.

It took him a long time (my viewpoint) short time (his viewpoint) to come to terms with the reality of us not finding a way to reconcile. During those agonizing months, he did not handle himself well in front of the kids. The girls were too young to be affected but The Commando was tuning into his dad's pain and turning into his dad in so many respects; including, but not limited to, holding me accountable for the cause of it all.

When Sunshine finally came to terms, to grips, to reality, we were able to begin to reconstruct our friendship and respect for each other as parents. Parents of these three fully functioning, beautiful, astoundingly cognizant souls we had ushered into this world  Our relationship continued to recover, ever so slowly; one day he's good, the next day he's the spawn of Satan. Finally, he seemed to get his own slap from Cher and he snapped out of it.

We have since enjoyed one of those seldom accomplished Bruce Willis/Demi Moore type post divorce harmonies. Holidays, birthdays, teacher conferences, kid's plays and concerts - all done together. Most recently he came over unexpectedly with his girlfriend/fiance and sat on the patio with my girlfriend and I talking for hours. Later my friend commented how unusual it was to have such a close relationship. Sometimes it has been too close, as in, watch yourself or he will take advantage.

Nonetheless, my position has always been - let's do whatever it takes to let go of our personal agendas and do what's right for these remarkable kids of ours.  With few exceptions and the occasional flare up here and there, it has mostly always worked. We speak respectfully, willingly trade days, plan vacations and other deviations from our court appointed schedules - all with little to no discord whatsoever.

We would often sit down and talk like old friends, sharing stories of family, knowing the other can understand from the historical context in a way that new people in our lives cannot. My favorites were always when he would update me on the continuing scams involving The Anti-Christ. Mr. Sunshine seemed to be doing financially very well. He spoke of paying off debt, saving money, planning to build a home. I was so proud of what we had accomplished.

I was thrilled to learn about the proposal to his girlfriend. The kids spoke highly of her, she seemed to be educated, dedicated and most importantly not a crazy, psycho, fatal attraction kind of bitch. I was happy for them. I embraced them and let the kids know of my acceptance and joy by demonstrating a welcoming atmosphere. 

This is the way I envisioned the end of the Mr. Sunshine chapter of my life. It all seemed to be conclusively, definitely and properly solidified. It was, for all practical purposes - a happy ending.

While I have been writing of this chapter of my life, I was elated to know I could end one of these Mr. Whatever series on a high note, with some semblance of hope - letting you all know, anything can be overcome if you keep your priorities straight.

Five years of happily un-married accord. Until just one week ago......

(Artwork entitled, "The Leaving" by Angela Hayden at www.angelahayden.com)

Mr. Sunshine (Part Five) - The Reformation and Resolution

He came back to me, changed and seemingly broken. He appeared to be coming out of his self-imposed delusions and moving toward the honest, somewhat shocking realization of who he really was. He would not consider himself a failure but he had failed, in so many, many ways.

He no longer wanted the hot, sexy young sales girl. He wanted a life with me. He wanted to be a father. He wanted to start going to church, to get a "real" job, to finally be a man and oh by the way, in order to accomplish all of this, we would need to move to Wisconsin.

While the thought had certainly never entered my mind that I might one day be living in Wisconsin. We were losing the house anyway. I had shut down the business and filed bankruptcy on the remaining debt. I didn't really like my new job and I was restless. We had visited Milwaukee many times to see his mom. It seemed like a city on the verge of cool; well at least much more on the verge than Oklahoma City was at that time. Why the hell not, let's do it!

We moved in August of 2000. It was glorious, fresh and new. It smelled clean and crisp; fall, my favorite season, was already in the air. Those first few months were exciting as we searched for a place to live, settled #1 Son into his freshman year of high school and began to explore our new surroundings. Mr. Sunshine had landed that "real" job for a national company, no less.  It took me a few months to find work back in my field. We were on our way, at the dawn of a new life. Time to rebuild.

When December rolled around, we had our first big snow storm. I had seen snow before, but never anything as beautiful as that. The entire place looked like a giant Christmas painting or Hallmark card. I bought snow boots for everyone and it continued to snow. We frolicked around in it and it continued to snow. We made snowmen and had snowball fights and it continued to snow. We went sledding and it continued to snow. By month end, we had received an all time, record breaking snow for the month of December - a whopping 52 inches.

It is the perfect metaphor for how my life with Mr. Sunshine evolved and eventually ended. Some snow is good; in fact, it can be great - a helluva fun ride but 52 inches in one month can put a damper on things.

Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself.

The reformation of Mr. Sunshine With a Chance of Pain had begun. He started to dabble in politics, his first love and perhaps his only true passion in life (besides his children).  Within two years he was heading up statewide committees, running for county and statewide elected office, volunteering for national senate campaigns, pursuing a Political Science degree at night and making a name for himself among the most conservative of the ultra-conservative-elite.

Taxes are three times as high in Wisconsin as they were in Oklahoma so I was proud of him for his fiscally conservative position; however, he couldn't hang with the big dogs without drinking from their water bowls, much like those poor souls who drank the Kool Aid in Guyana. (Yes, I intended to portray it in such a shocking context.)

Our fundamental belief systems began to sharply contrast. Soon, I found myself on the receiving end of many a diatribe over such things as abortion, gay marriage and family values, you know - things like infidelity and divorce, which a few of my friends were going through at the time.

"You shouldn't hang out with them" he would say, "They are a bad influence". After a long pause the only thing I could think to say was:

Excuse me, but have we met?

In November of 2001 I found I was pregnant again.  He was, believe it or not, a top notch partner during the pregnancy. He had to be when they put me down to bed rest. But after the babies came and the stress of two premature infants became apparent, he was again skipping out the door for work, night classes and political commitments. When someone suggested he run for office, he had to go back and fix an itsy, bitty, teeny, weeny little mistake.

I will never forget the shock and romanticism of it all when he came home from work on my birthday, handed me a gift box and said something to the tune of well, we've had three kids together, we might as well get married now.

The son of a bitch bought me an engagement ring on my birthday to get out of having to buy me a present.

The girls had been born in May, this was August.  We were married the following June.  There I was in the bathroom, crying so hard, knowing I didn't want to be married to him, knowing I would have to wait many years for him to truly grow up, but telling myself - I want to put the bow on this package and make it legitimate.

I wanted to share the last name of my children and I didn't want to have to explain why mommy and daddy were never married.  I walked down that aisle. If you look closely at the photo of me from Mr. Sunshine-Part One, you can see my red nose and red, squinty eyes, swollen shut from the profuse emotion; yet also, perfectly matching my red dress. Does anyone still question why I selected red as an articulation of my bridal bliss?

There were many interesting things that happened from June of 2003 to November of 2004 when I decided to leave him for good. At the height of his political involvement, he was spending most of his time volunteering for the Tim Michels campaign for the U.S. Senate seat held by Russ Feingold. I was invited to attend some events for the staff and volunteers at the Michels' home. It was difficult for me to sit and listen to them go on and on and on about abortion, knowing the man sitting next to me had paid for the abortion of the drug addicted whore he had knocked up.

Let's suffice it to say, I wasn't invited to many more events.  They could smell a social liberal at fifty paces.

Then there was the time they all went out after some rally or something and one of the young paid staffer girls got so drunk, Mr. Sunshine brought her home, carried her into our house, while she was kissing on his face and neck and put her to bed on our couch.  That was a tough one to explain to the nanny the next morning.  "Oh, don't mind her, my husband brought her home last night."

After that, I checked Mr. Sunshine's email on a regular basis and found he had quite the emotional affair (that's all I can prove) with a another young volunteer who was incensed that he had stood her up at a fund raising event he had promised to attend.  As I recall, he missed the event because I forced him to accompany us to my annual company picnic. I didn't feel comfortable keeping up with two babies and a four year old by myself.

It didn't make sense to me why he said he couldn't come with us. Why was a campaign event more important. Then I understood, he wasn't just showing up to support the candidate, if you know what I mean.

In late October, I came home from an overnight business trip to Chicago and woke up the next morning to discover another woman's panties in my bed.  Actually, I didn't discover them, one of my toddler twins had picked them up and placed them on her head.  I grabbed them, checked the size (small, not me) the label (Calvin Klein) again, not me and the smell (most certainly used and NOT BY ME).

Twin was immediately scrubbed down similar to that of a potential hazardous waste exposure.

All of that nonsense aside, I still wasn't totally done until I realized the guy was never going to work a real job, live real life, be a real husband - no matter what I did.  He had been laid off by the big national company when they noticed his head was in the political clouds instead of with them. He had not found a new job, opting instead to start his own consulting firm and supplement his income from county or state elected positions.

All of this cost money. He had cashed out everything from his job, borrowed money on our house and put us in debt, again to the point where we didn't have enough money coming in to cover the bills. When there was no more credit to be extended, he went to his mom and asked her to finance some home improvements, selecting the colors and fixtures behind my back.

I came home from work one night to see carpet torn out, cabinets demolished and new items slated to go back in, which I had previously objected to.  Said objections were not solely a cost issue - I hated the idea of pedestal sinks when you have no cabinetry - where's a girl supposed to put her shit?

It was a life changing moment. I sat at the edge of my bed, looked at the debris around me and felt as if Cher had suddenly walked up to me, slapped me across the face and said, "Snap out of it".

Thanks Cher. You were right. I am 41 years old, I make a good salary.  It was a revelation, a resolution and a glory hallelujah, I was unquestionably resolved. I could support myself and my children without him, I had to if I wanted to survive.

Just as I felt on my wedding day, I was done, so very, very done. However, this time it was "real".