The Budget of Paradox

Sophia,

It was my birthday yesterday. I didn’t do much. Maybe one of these years, you might feel ready to say Happy Birthday to me. That would be nice.

I don’t know how much global news you absorb. More importantly, I don’t know if anyone is teaching you the context of the news. What’s happening in Israel right now has a context that is very deep, very serious, and very old… almost going back to the Bible. Jews and Arabs have been fighting since forever.

Anyway, I won’t explain it all here. I can’t, really. But what I hear in the news is that Iran could be responsible for the attack on Israel. Iran, if you look at a map, Iran is just across the waters of the Arabian Gulf from Abu Dhabi. If war begins to destabilize the Gulf region again, especially if Iran is involved, wow, that would be some great job security for me. It would be nice to put my skills to work again and get paid for it.

I hope you’re well.

I think of you, and miss you.

Dad

Sophia,
Do you know your cousin’s names from my side of your family? How about your aunt from my side? Or your great-uncle? Do you know anything about my side of your family? For a long time, I accused your mom of alienating you from me. But it goes beyond just me personally. You have an entire ‘other’ family besides the Moreys and the Tunkels.

I’m curious. I wonder if your mother is still pushing the story that I shook you as a baby.

Here’s a true story: almost exactly 13 years ago in the Fall of 2010, I was working in Afghanistan but I came back to Lynchburg for two weeks. Your mom was having a medical procedure. After her procedure, she was given powerful drugs – narcotics – to help knock her out so she could sleep. One afternoon, after she took some narcotics, I put you down in your crib to take a nap. But you only slept for 10 or 15 minutes. When you woke up, I quickly dashed upstairs to try to soothe you so you wouldn’t wake up your mom.

But she woke up anyway. And I guess she figured I was incapable of handling a baby, so she got up and came to your room. I was already there, and I encouraged your mom to go back to sleep. All of this is true. It’s undisputed.

But when we were getting divorced four years later, your mom testified under oath (which means she promises to tell the truth in court) that she found me shaking you. Literally, she says I was shaking my own baby like a Polaroid picture, simply because she woke up. Because, you know, I guess I’m the kind of fucking asshole that shakes a baby when it won’t sleep. That was her story.

I’m sure you know by now that shaking a crying baby is more than just wrong. It’s selfish, stupid, criminal and potentially dangerous. Shaken babies die. It takes a real coward, a real piece of shit, to shake a baby. But that’s what your mom said.

While she was under oath, she was asked if she had X-rays or a CAT scan performed on you. Those are standard procedures for a shaken baby. She said no. She was asked if she took you to the hospital. Answer was no. “Ever taken Sophia to see a doctor for being shaken?” No. “Ever call the police or get a restraining order against the dad for being violent?” No. “Ever tell anyone about the shaking? Your sister, your mother, your best friend, your marriage counselor, your psychologist, the police, the schools, the teachers, the doctors, ANYONE?” No.

When the military investigated me because I needed a higher security clearance, they interviewed your mom. She said I was a great dad. I have copies of their interview.

So, to re-cap, while taking narcotics, she thinks she saw me shake you. But for four years, FOUR YEARS, she didn’t tell anyone, not a single soul. The first person she told was her divorce lawyer, and only after we had a disagreement about money. And during those four years, I had unrestricted access to you and Morey. I took you overnight, unsupervised, plenty of times.

And yet, despite all of this, your mother expects to be taken seriously. She thought the judge was so stupid that he would actually believe her story.

This is just one piece of the puzzle. There are many more. I hope someday you can see how all the pieces fit together to show that your mom is just a bitter lady who wanted to punish me by alienating me from my kids.

I didn’t leave you. I was pushed out by scumbag lawyers and a retarded judge. I love you more than ever. I never shook you. That’s insane to even think so.

Dad

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Sophia,
The principal of your school is some limptard named Dani Rule. If you ever meet him, tell him I said hello. He sounds like a real swell guy. Back when I was trying to get Morey’s school records, those cowards over at Dunbar gave me a hard time. I guess the school administrators think your mom is the ‘real’ parent and I’m just some annoying asshole with no rights. Can’t a man simply be interested in how his kids are doing in school? I had to get a lawyer to finally get them to comply with me. And it looks like Dani Rule wants a lawsuit, too. Fine. They can’t stop my love for my children.
Dad

p.s. Dani Rule, if you’re reading this: you’re a coward. I can be a pain in your ass for four more years. Just do the right thing. Do your damn job.

Lynchburg City School Board has appointed Dr. Daniel “Dani” Jon Rule as the next Principal of E.C. Glass High School.

Sophia,

Some random thoughts… 34 years ago this weekend, I bought my first CD.

Music delivery technology changed a lot in the 20 years before you were born. When I was your age, if you bought music, it came on a vinyl record (big round black disks; I’m sure you’ve seen a photo of them, but I’m also sure you’ve never held one). Music also came on cassette tapes. When I was really young, it was still possible to buy music on reel-to-reel tapes. That’s really old technology.

When I was in high school, the compact disc (CD) was introduced. It was a revolution because it was digital music, and digital never degrades. Vinyl records and tapes degrade over time.

There was a time when I had a huge collection of CDs. Hundreds of them. I enjoyed collecting rare and hard-to-find CDs, especially imports from Japan. The cool import CDs were always from Japan for some unknown reason. I’m not talking about Japanese bands. In fact, if you were into a band from Belgium (such as Front 242), you’d expect their rare CDs to be from Belgium. But nope. Japan.

Anyway, by the time you were born, almost all music was streamed over the internet. You can still buy CDs (and even vinyl records). But it’s all streaming now.

So, getting back to 1989. I was living in upstate New York and getting ready to move to Hawaii for the first time. I bought a CD player and my first CD. It was “Blind Man’s Zoo” by 10,000 Maniacs. I bought it on the strength of the song “Trouble Me”. The lead singer, Natalie Merchant, is also from upstate New York. She’s only a few years older than me.

It’s funny that I remember all these dumb little details.

Link to “Trouble Me”. Natalie wrote it as a love letter to her father who was dying in a hospital at the time.

I love you and miss you. I’d love to tell you more stories from my youth.

Dad

p.s. if you liked that song, here is one more.

Sophia: Your mother’s birthday is tomorrow. Does she even celebrate it anymore? When we were married and living on Kauai, I started to plan a big birthday party for her one year. But she told me to scale it back considerably. She just wanted a small affair.

When I first met your mother, she was 31. And I’m sure you know by now that some women hate getting old and sometimes deny their correct age. Sometimes they try to hide their age; but sometimes their denial runs so deep, they genuinely forget.

Shortly after we met, your mother had a doctor’s appointment and I went along. I can’t remember why she was seeing a doctor. I’m sure it was something minor. In the waiting room, they had her fill out a form. One of the questions was her age. I distinctly remember that she wrote “29”. Then she stopped and thought about it for a second. Then, she crossed it out and wrote “30”. Then she stopped again and thought about it some more. Then, she crossed it out again and wrote “31”. Then she started to cry.

We laughed about it together.

Your mother and I back when she was 29 30 31. The other couple is the famous painter Walfrido and his wife.

All of my memories of your mom since the divorce are bad. Now, she just seems like an angry, paranoid, selfish old lady who lives in some alternate reality that she’s invented. It’s too bad you never got to know her like she was back in her thirties. She was funny and clever and loving and surprising and daring. Her humor was twisted and dark (and I mean that in a good way; I mean that in the best possible way). We all change, I guess. But my love for my children hasn’t changed.