The Budget of Paradox

Sophia,
Did you know that the last place I saw your mom — before she filed for divorce — was in Morocco? You were very young, only three years old. But your mom flew to meet me in Paris. We were there for a week then flew to Morocco together for another week. We had a great time. At least, I remember it as a great time. That was the last time we would be husband and wife together.

We even had dinner at Rick’s Café in Casablanca. It’s the setting of an old film called Casablanca. There was an excellent film in 2006 called Babel. Part of it was set in the mountains of Morocco where your mother and I did some hiking. The movie featured a married American couple vacationing in Morocco, but they’re on the brink of divorce. Funny how life imitates art. Here is a scene from the movie.

I took a lot of photos on that trip. If you want to see them, I’m happy to share.

Morocco is a beautiful country. Its name is derived from the old Berber language. It means “Land of God”. I always liked that.

Morocco is in north Africa. I’ve been to other parts of north Africa before. I’m probably going back to north Africa next month. Parts of it are nice; some parts are terrible, of course.

I’d love to meet you there someday. We can eat figs and baba ghanoush.

Thinking about you today,
Yours most sincerely,
Dad
p.s. go watch the movie Babel

Sophia,
This blog is about you. But, today, I need to acknowledge something just for me. As you probably know, before I met your mother, I was married to another woman. She died in a car accident 153 days after we were married.

We were married 30 years ago tonight.

Thirty years. When I say it out loud, it’s hard to believe.

We got married on the beach of the campus of the University of California at Santa Barbara, not far from the marine sciences building where she was a senior with only a few months left before graduation. My friend Dennis was the only witness. Later, we all went out to dinner at a nice restaurant in Goleta Beach Park. During dinner, Dennis told dirty jokes. It was a nod to the traditional role of a Best Man. The idea of a Best Man started in Medieval times when weddings would hire a jester to tell off-color jokes. This was done to draw the attention of the Devil away from the newly-married couple.

Robin and I kept our marriage a secret from our friends and families. I remember calling your Nana Julie the next morning to tell her.

30 years

I don’t expect you to care very much about someone you never met. Why would you? But she was a good person. She was kind to animals and old people. She had a good heart. Sometimes, I would drive six hours just to have lunch with her. I miss her very much.

Appreciate the people you love while they’re still alive.

Dad

Sophia,
As I write this, it’s January 23, 2024. The last time I saw you was exactly nine years ago today. I remember it very well. After the final hearing of my divorce from your mother, I took you and Morey out to dinner. We went to a restaurant at the corner of Rivermont Avenue and Norfolk, across the street from a post office. The restaurant that’s there now is called Oliver’s. I’m not sure that’s what it was called in 2015. But that’s where we had dinner.

Nine years. Wow. It’s hard to believe it sometimes.

Morey, you and me in Lynchburg in 2014

I know I’ve said this often before, but this is not the life I planned for us. This is not the way things should be. A man has the God-given, natural, federal and Constitutional right to enjoy the company of his children, and help colonize their imaginations. If you ask what went wrong, I’m not sure I have a good answer. All I know is that strangers with law degrees prefer to keep us apart for reasons I can’t imagine. I think removing the father has been a destabilizing force in your family, for you and Morey both.

I often think back to that night in 2015. It was snowing all day. There was even a chance the hearing would be cancelled at the courthouse. Schools were nearly closed that day. I was worried about you getting home safely.

I love you, kid. And I miss you. I hope I can see you before I die. At this point, that’s all I can look forward to.

Dad

Sophia,
Technology has changed a lot in 25 years. When the internet first became popular, the coolest thing you could have is your own domain name. A domain, for example, is the “britney” in “www.britney.com”. Everything suddenly was a dot-com. If you’re curious, look up the history of nissan.com. Its ownership was the subject of an interesting and intense legal battle.

It’s easy to find some unregistered domain name that’s long and complex. The idea was to get a short, simple, memorable domain. But all the good domains were taken. And the coolest of the cool kids somehow managed to get one of their names as their domain name. I tried for a long time to get becker.com; a few friends of mine (with unusual names) own the dot-com version of their last name. Some companies paid millions to acquire the perfect domain name. For a long time, I owned threadfish.com. One year, I forgot to renew it and some Chinese company took it immediately.

When Morey was very young, I registered the domain morey.be and for a while, her e-mail address was morey@morey.be. This is back when domain names were exciting and e-mail was firmly established as the way to communicate online.

dreams and plans

Wow, it’s hard to predict the future. Little did anyone know that having a great dot-com would not only become irrelevant, but kids in the future wouldn’t even know what to do with one. Everything now is an “@” handle or a hashtag or a snapchat ID or a phone number. I had visions of Morey holding on to that e-mail address forever. Now, she doesn’t even use e-mail. And, of course, she’s not even Morey. Another dream set aside.

I have kept the domain name all these years. No point in renewing it now.

Dad
black.blue (no dot-com, it’s a dot-blue!)

Sophia,

I know I complain a lot about your mom. Sorry. It’s not my intention to blame her for everything. But there are very few people standing in the room. I blame the lawyers for most of it. But I am bumfuzzled (now THERE is a great word) why she thinks I’m some abusive asshole who only wants to terrorize his own children.

Believe it or not, there was a time when your mother and I were happy. Here we are dancing at our wedding. Did you know that our wedding had a soundtrack? We picked out a dozen songs and had CDs printed, with artwork and everything. The last song on the CD was called Love On A Real Train. Here is the music video. I picked it out. There’s a special meaning.

I’m sorry that all you have ever seen from your parents is conflict. It wasn’t always this way. And it certainly was never meant to be this way.

I’m sorry. You’ll never know how sorry I am.

Yours,
Dad