Yesterday, my daughter asked “Is your blog going to be all
about Dad’s case?” The answer to that is No. A blog could never do it justice. I
have written a book about Cecil’s case and the far-reaching tentacles it left
behind. Hopefully, that book will be on the shelves soon for people to read.
This blog will be about meeting life as it comes to you. For
us, Cecil’s case was a turning point. It serves as a place to start the blog. I
mean, there’s a lot of material there. I could nuance the thrill of seeing your
children plastered on the front page of the newspaper as they leave the
courtroom after yet another hearing. I could (and I will later) share with you
the humiliation of a Perp Walk. A view from inside the jailhouse lends itself
to countless narratives. But this is not intended to be a shrine to what members
of my writers group call my 'bitching and moaning' about what happened. To their
utter frustration, I’m sure there will be a fair amount of that, despite my
best efforts.
But, there will be more. I love vignettes. Some will sting the heart, but others will be humorous. Many other topics flow from the seed. Ambition. Crossroads. Facing Death. Divorce (not us!). War and the havoc it wreaks. Life behind the Iron Curtain. I used to pity myself the uncommon experience. Now, if I can't have what I lost, I am at least grateful for the depth of experience.
In the telling, I suppose it is inevitable there will be musings, and maybe a few epiphanies. One thing I've discovered: the good part of a
nightmare is that, eventually, you wake up and realize that, notwithstanding
the stink that can happen, real life is not all bad. It’s a matter of perspective,
and a determination to look for good things that lie, like a faint heartbeat, beneath
the rubbish that has scattered from corner to corner of the landscape you can
see.
For us, Cecil’s case was a life changing event. In my last
post, I touched on the government’s largess, shall we call it, in going after him.
Initially, he and I stood like deer in the path of a Mack truck, waiting for the
splatter that would follow. For a year, when we wanted to talk in the house, we
wrote notes to each other, then flushed them down the toilet, certain our home
had been bugged. It would have been easy to let ourselves be eaten alive. The
tendency was to dress up in ‘woe is me’ and wear it all day, every day.
When we caught ourselves doing that, we made a conscious
decision to knock it off. First, we turned Woe
is Me into Screw Them. That helped
a lot.
Then we designated our family life as off limits. We went
searching for Normal and made it our mainstay. Whatever calamity waited on the doorstep, our home became our solitude.
When we closed the door behind us, we shut out the nightmare
and carried on with our lives. The sons-a-bitches would be lurking the
next day, ready with some hideous take on how justice gets meted out but, for
those few hours, our life together would be our own.
I don’t mean we sat around in a circle, holding hands and fretting
together as a unit. I mean we allowed ourselves to breathe. We would sit before
the fire and read. The kids would argue one minute and cuddle under
a blanket watching TV the next. Food fights erupted on a moment’s
notice. When my hair caught fire during a singing of Happy Birthday one year,
they doused me and we laughed. We finished the song and then exaggerated the
hell out of the story for the rest of the night. Each year we tromped through
the woods to find our Christmas trees. Each night we ate dinner together,
talking about the kids’ school and a million other things, but never The Case.
We did all this, not because we weren’t taking the government’s
threat seriously. We did it to survive. To be consumed by a barrage of
destructive emotion, without respite, can be catastrophic. You lose your sense
of how life was before and how it needs to be again. Although our circumstances
would forever be a part of our kids’ childhoods, we did not want the mess to
become a part of who they were. I think that’s key.
By saving Normal, we stayed tuned into life beyond the feds,
and kept ourselves from becoming jaded. In short, good can come from almost
anything. Today, I am less judgmental. Little things are so much sweeter than
they used to be. We take challenges in stride; the sky is hardly ever falling. Cecil
and I appreciate each other in ways that hadn’t occurred to us before. As for our relationship with
the kids, well, we went through something terrible together. The trauma seared its mark into the fiber of our family dynamic. It was frightening then; it has transcended into something special.
When terrible things happen, allow yourself to go through
them, but distinguish between the moment and the long run. There will be wreckage,
the burden of which might change the path you choose in the future. But you
have to keep walking, and looking forward to the rest of what’s waiting for
you. We found a way to keep walking, even during the calamity. I think that
saved us.
I like the way you are giving up parts of your story without undermining the greater work itself. I know the memoir will hit the shelves. This blog should whet a lot of readers' appetites. Keep up the good work.
ReplyDeleteMaybe I should just start putting chapters up at a time and, eventually, I can say the book has been published!
DeleteMaybe I should just start putting chapters up at a time and, eventually, I can say the book has been published!
Delete