Endings and beginnings

Today, I received, in the mail, an envelope from the Prothonotary and Clerk of Courts in Coudersport, PA. My divorce decree. I am officially a single person.

I don't know what to write, don't know quite how I feel.

No one, I am pretty sure, goes into a relationship thinking that someday it's going to end. Certainly no one goes into a marriage thinking it's going to end. Unfortunately, my two (!) have ended the same way: with the equivalents of "common law" divorces: no-fault... papers filed through the mail... one day, a sheaf of papers arrives in the mail, with a cover letter asking for my signature on a couple pages, and then, a few weeks after I send them off, another, slimmer letter in the mail:

CIVIL ACTION - LAW
CASE NO 2008-125
IN DIVORCE

DECREE

AND NOW...

Funny: when my ex- and I were separated but still legally married (pause for a second, as I absorb the new tenses I'm using here), and she was hoping that I might "come to my senses" and we'd get back together (part of me was hoping the same thing for her, too), she said once "It's all just easy come, easy go to you, isn't it?"

No, June. It wasn't.

That's why, even though it seems like there's nothing more "easy come, easy go" than a common law, sign-and-submit divorce, I know that it's anything but for her. It certainly isn't for me.

* * *

When the mail came this afternoon, I was on my way downtown. As soon as I saw the envelope, I knew what it was. There aren't many reasons for any prothonotary in Pennsylvania to be writing me; besides, I'd signed the papers and returned them three weeks ago. I knew it was coming.

I walked into town, barely thinking about the paper in my bookbag... went for lunch, and then to the bookstore to buy a book (Kaleidoscope Sky by Tim Herd) that I'd had my eye on, plus a card for my parents and a couple other cards... then across the street and down the block to the Stowe Coffeehouse, where I sat and had a Red Eye (in my case, a decaf coffee with two shots of espresso in it; call it a Pink Eye) and opened The Envelope. The date was unceremoniously rubberstamped in a space on the form.

DECREE

And now, Feb 11 2008, it is ordered and decreed that Plaintiff and Defendant are divorced from the bonds of matrimony.

February 11...

Last week, I decided that I was going to go out on a limb and, defying all reason, send a SECRET ADMIRER valentine to a woman I had a crush on. Our paths crossed earlier this winter, and since then, I haven't been able to shake her from my spirit.

I mailed the card on Saturday.

On Sunday, I found out that she had a boyfriend.

On Monday, February 11, I found out that she had received the card.

I like to believe in the logic of cycles, of endings and beginnings, and in the power of faith and spirit to move objects and people that may seem, logically and rationally, unmoveable.

Could February 11 have been both a day of ending and beginning for me?

Time will tell.

* * *

I stopped into my workplace, Harvest Market, on my walk home to not only get a cup of coffee and a couple of Jones Green Apple sodas for the evening, but because I knew if I told everyone what had happened, I'd get empathy. Sure enough, when I showed the decree to my co-worker Ben, he patted my back. "Hey, if you wanna hang out or something, let me know."

Just what I needed to hear, when I needed to hear it. Thanks, man.

Lisa, one of the managers, gave me a chocolate covered strawberry ("You need this today") and I sat with another co-worker, Ian, and his roommate (whose name I don't know) and we talked about skiing, snowshoeing, going out on the mountain, and how beautiful it was. I decided that rather than walk home and hole up in my room and feel sorry for myself, I was going to go home, strap on my snowshoes, and go for a walk across the powder.

My apartment is above Gracie's, a restaurant on Mountain Road in Stowe. The Stowe rec path passes right in front of my building and crosses over a small stream about a quarter mile to the south; between the building and the stream, there's a wide open field, on which, a couple weeks ago, a group of snowshoers left their mark in the form of gigantic, crop-circle-like swirls.

As I snowshoed past the open, clean field in the gently falling snow, I looked out across the unspoiled snowscape, and I knew what I had to do.

Thinking of those crop-circle swirls, with my snowshoes, I walked a giant, 100-foot-wide heart into the snowscape. It will be there for all to see tomorrow, Valentine's Day.

I wonder if anyone will guess that the person who made it had just opened up a divorce decree.

Love still works. Life is still good.

* * *

After I took off my snowshoes, I took a shower and went downstairs to Gracie's for dinner. I seldom go out to dinner, but tonight, it seemed important.

Had a steak and two glasses of wine: one for endings, and one for beginnings.

Here's to both, and here's to love.

There's nothing you can do that can't be done
Nothing you can sing that can't be sung
Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game
It's easy

Nothing you can make that can't be made
No word you can say that can't be said
Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time
It's easy

All you need is love
All you need is love
All you need is love, love
Love is all you need

There's nothing you can know that isn't known
Nothing you can see that isn't shown
Nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be
It's easy

All you need is love
All you need is love
All you need is love, love
Love is all you need...

(John Lennon and Paul McCartney)


Happy Valentine's Day!

A simple quiz for the insecure

Carolyn Hax, of the WASHINGTON POST, is without question my favorite advice columnist. Not only is her syndicated TELL ME ABOUT IT the most insightful and bullshit-free advice column out there, but her weekly chats are full of gems, made all the more impressive by the fact that the chat is done in real time.

This little exchange is from her chat today at washingtonpost.com:

New York, N.Y.: Hey Carolyn,

Love your chats -- I'm hoping you can help me on this. How do you get over the need to have everyone (or if not everyone, most people) "like" you. I'm usually afraid to make waves or risk alienating people, even for good reason, because I'm always worried that this person will become resentful and besmirch my fair name among my social circle.

I think there's some good in restraint, but I feel like the fear of reprisal is too strong for me to deal with in general and then I end up feeling trod upon.

Advice, please? Thank you in advance!

Carolyn Hax: Pencils out, pop quiz:

Do you like everyone? Yes/No

Does your dislike of someone impinge significantly on his or her ability to lead a fulfilling life? Yes/No

Are there some people you dislike so much that their favorable opinion of you would be an insult? Yes/No

Do you think it's a realistic goal to be universally liked? Yes/No

Do you think it's a desirable one? Yes/No

Can you conjure one person who is universally inoffensive? Yes/No

If yes, has that person ever made you laugh so hard you spit your drink? Yes/No

-----

The point of this quiz being, everything you feel comfortable believing about other people's (dis)likability applies directly to your own. It's okay, certainly survivable, and in many cases desirable, to be distasteful to some people.

Enjoy.