Mother To Son

• 2 pints Rainier - Poggie Tavern

There's a hilarious scene in Napoleon Dynamite where Napoleon performs Bette Midler's "The Rose" as a member of the Helping Hands team. It's tender, it's funny, it's endearing. It was a great song choice for the movie and I laughed so hard during that scene. But whenever I hear "The Rose", it reminds me of my parent's divorce. It was the song that came on the radio right after Michelle and I told Ken that my mom and dad were ending their marriage of 13 years, and I've never forgotten that moment. Ken thought Michelle and I were playing a joke on him and to this day it pains me that he thought that this was in the league of the jokes we did play on him. He started crying and I don't remember what happened after that. Ken had just turned 10 years old, Michelle had been 8 for a couple of months, and I would be 13 in about four months. I know I was the first to be told about the divorce and Michelle was second. I'm not sure why Ken was third and I'm not sure why it was me and Michelle that told him.

Last week I watched "The Squid and the Whale" and I really enjoyed it, even though it was depressing. It was real, and that's what I liked about it. The parents separated and had joint custody of their kids. My parents never had joint custody. My mom took Michelle and Ken and moved to Columbus, Ohio where she went to OSU for her teaching degree. I stayed with my dad in Lawrenceville, Georgia until we sold the house and moved to Stone Mountain, Georgia. Ken, Michelle and I really had no choice about who we were going to live with. My mom wanted all three of us, but my dad wanted me to stay with him. The whole situation was fucked, really. My mom was left with so little and now looking back at it I realize how unfair it was to her. I always felt guilty visiting them because they were on food stamps and had to really watch their money, while my dad, not well off by any standards, seemed to at least have some freedom financially.

Even though money was tight, Ken, Michelle, and I used to have so much fun during the summers when I would visit. My mom worked at OSU and we would sometimes go visit her on campus. During the day we would play around the apartment complex, go swimming, create our own adventures, and go to the nearby grocery store and eat the free samples. One summer we wanted to start a business, and I thought the best way would be to deliver food and drinks to the various apartments. Even though Coke is my cola of choice, Pepsi was cheaper to buy, so I hand-wrote "Ice cold Pepsi delivered to your apt." on numerous index cards and dropped them into the mail slots of the neighboring buildings. Not one person responded, to my bewilderment; I thought it was a for sure tactic! Ken and Michelle still to this day laugh and yell at me, "ICE COLD PEPSI DELIVERED TO YOUR APT." They love that I abbreviated apartment and they love pronouncing it "apt". And they love even more that I didn't get one damn customer.

When I think of my parent's divorce, I hate (and that's not a strong enough word right now) that those six years I spent living separately from Ken, Michelle, and my mom, I will never, ever get back. That time was stolen from me. It was stolen from my brother, my sister, and my mom and there is nothing I can do about it. It's gone and I feel cheated out of my time with them. When my mom died I felt that I never had enough time with her. I was 31, she was 54 and there were so many things we could have done, could have experienced, could have shared. But I know this is always the case, no matter how old it is when someone dies. ...... The ironic piece is (and I just realized this in the past week) that if my parents hadn't gotten divorced, I wouldn't have the pictures and letters from my mom that I have now. Would I rather have had those six years, or the pictures and letters and notes and cards that will live eternally?

The first Christmas after the divorce was final, my mom gave me a copy of The Way, a Catholic Bible. On the first page she copied the below poem for me and I have never failed to read it without tears, but it has never failed to give me strength. "Well, son, I'll tell you:"