A Stone on the Roll

This is the second installment of a 3-parts series. Part One was posted on Tuesday,
April 13, 2010.

My marriage with Brad was officially dissolved somewhere around our baby son's first birthday. I was 26 and on my own, getting $150 per month in child support. I waived alimony out of pride, foolish pride according to my attorney. In my youthful rage my thought was "I don't need your stinkin' money! I can take care of myself, you narcissistic jerk; you help take care of our child."

Although I stayed in Milwaukee another 18 months, eventually I found a local newspaper publishing job in Chicago and moved back to Illinois.

The state of Wisconsin in 1970-71 required a one-year waiting period between the granting of a divorce and the remarriage of either party. Exactly one day after the end of the legal wait, Brad married the dental hygienist he had "befriended" while we were still married.

By then, he had become something of a local icon because he was a sportscaster on one of the network's local affiliates and his handsome face was plastered on the butt-end of busses. (I know. Highly appropriate for the butthead he was.) He was also attending law school.

Brad and the Hygienist had a son and a daughter before he managed to sabotage that marriage by continuing to pursue women on the side. He was well on his way to establishing a legendary pattern. Over the next 25 years, Brad would get married, have at a couple of kids, find a woman to replace his current wife, and proceed to get himself thrown out a total of 5 times. I was wife #1.

Including the daughter who was born out of wedlock to a woman he discarded in order to marry me, there were 7 children by the time Brad became ill with throat cancer early in the 1990s.

I was pretty sure I would never marry again. I worked my way through several PR jobs -- the paper, the University of Chicago, The Woodlawn Organization -- and finally landed the job that started a 25-year career with a major corporation. In the manner of most single mothers, I struggled emotionally, financially and professionally to make it all come together as perfectly as I could make it.

My son had been doing the usual bouncing back and forth between Chicago and Milwaukee for visitations, and during those times he would come home filled with wondrous information. He kept mentioning women's names, names that weren't his Dad's wife's name.

Sometimes, Brad and I would meet each other half-way to make the kid transfer, and I would be amused to see which female companion would be waiting with him this time. He was quite the catch in Milwaukee (never mind that he was ALWAYS married to somebody) because, in addition to his good looks and charm, he had become reasonably wealthy as a sports and entertainment attorney.

In the meantime, I dated quite a few guys who ranged from terrible to terrific, had a great time playing tennis and raising my son to be a rounded and grounded human being. Still convinced that I wasn't the marrying kind, I was not prepared for what happened after I took the corporate job.

A co-worker and I were assigned to the same industry in our sales office. We became great friends and eventually fell in love. We moved in together, slowly and carefully to accommodate my 7 year-0ld's sensitivities, but Bert really wanted to make it all official. After he flashed a gorgeous solitaire on Christmas Eve and proposed, I was elated to have a wedding ceremony the following February.

When Brad found out that I was remarrying, he took the opportunity to show me that he hadn't really evolved all that much, despite the fact that he was then on Wife #3. He sounded upset as we spoke on the phone.

"You were my first love. You will always be special to me. Sure, I'm sad."

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT? you might ask. I know. He was just that kind of a butthead. (I think it is here where convention dictates that I say "May he rest in peace." I'm not very conventional.)

And then he delivered the bombshell:

"I've always told you that if you ever got married I would step aside so your husband can adopt our son."

Based on his behavior over the years, I knew, without question, that this was entirely about his getting out of paying the measly $150 a month in child support. We had never had any conversation whatsoever about him giving up parental rights.

Livid, I shouted words at him that I didn't even know I knew. His mother, who was a widow now that his dad had died three years earlier, was deeply hurt. She and I had always been extremely close and she couldn't believe what she was hearing when I told her of Brad's pronouncement.

However, that is exactly what happened and from that moment on, our son never saw or heard from him until he insisted on inviting his "birth father" to his high school graduation.



NEXT UP: Conclusion, A FUNERAL FOR THE AGES