The Kindness of Strangers

Last week was great. I finally got some serious 1:1 parenting time with the kids. It's the first real family time I've had with them since our vacation together in August. Sure, we've had the occasional weekend, but those were about specific events. Last week was about homework, dinner, washing clothes and making lunches. I loved every minute of it.

I think that surprised me. Like pretty much every single parent on the planet, I love my kids. It's hormonal. Even the worst parents get the same flood of endorphins from being around family. No, what surprised me was how much I enjoyed spending time with them. I don't mean "doing fun stuff" either. Sure, I love amusement parks and water slides, but what I am talking about are the quiet moments.  Simply reading a book or watching them play with their friends. Walking them to the bus stop in the morning. Talking to them about the mundane events that make up 99% of life.

It was probably my most rewarding week this year.

You see, up until this week, I've been having a very bad month. I hit bottom October 11th. It was Columbus Day and I found myself stuck in jail.

I've lived my life responsibly and with respect for the law and other people. I never imagined I would end up in jail. And I found myself locked up with no one to help me.

I was taken from my home in handcuffs at approximately 9:30 PM Sunday night while my children watched. After being stuffed in the back of the patrol car I was transported to the township police department. They took my fingerprints, palm prints and mug shots. I was thoroughly searched and all of my personal belongings were taken and inventoried. Once I was processed, they locked me in the holding cell that would be my home for the next 16 hours.

Unusual fact - I'd never been in a police car before.  The back seat of the car was not an actual seat.  It was a hard plastic bench that was formed to the inside of the frame / trunk. From the "seat" to the floor was all of four inches. This may be for security, but according to the arresting officer it is also very easy to clean. Apparently they have occasional problems transporting drunks.


All I could think of was "There's no seat belt. What if there's an accident?"


That's me. Safety first.

When it came time for my phone call, I tried my attorney. The jail only allows collect calls. This may have made sense in 1950, but seems odd in the 21st century when pretty much every phone in the country includes free long distance. What does it really cost the township to have that phone line installed in the jail? They pay for an operator to dial every call for you. They could probably save money by just letting you dial direct.

My attorney's phone went direct to voicemail, and since there was no one to accept the collect call I couldn't leave a message.

No one who cared about me even knew where I was or how much trouble I was in.

I had one more chance. I called Uncle Dave hoping against hope he would pick up the phone. He did. He was astounded by my situation and immediately offered to do anything he could to help. I told him I wouldn't be able to contact him again, nor would he be able to contact me. I gave him my attorney's number and asked him to please contact my attorney, let him know where I was and to please get me out. He agreed and hung up.

I was on my own.

Time passes very, very slowly in jail. There is nothing to do, nothing to look at, no one to talk to. The only other person in custody was a DUI who had passed out shortly after being locked in his cell. Judging by the remnants on the walls, the holding cells had seen their fair share of drunken vomit.

Much like the back seats of the patrol cars.

The 9'x12' holding cell I spent Sunday night in was not built for comfort. The "bed" was a thin mattress on a concrete pad. The cell had no windows and was lit up with about 40 bright fluorescent bulbs - all night long. If you looked up at the ceiling, the lights literally hurt - even with my eyes pinched closed. Sleep was not an option. I paced. I counted the cinder blocks. I counted the screws in the ceiling. I thought a lot about how my life deteriorated to this point.

Because of the holiday, all government offices would be closed Monday, including the county prosecutor. Until the prosecutor charges you with a crime, you can't get a bond hearing. Since everyone was on holiday, I was faced with the prospect of spending the next 24 hours in county lock-up waiting for someone to come to work to charge or release me.

County lock-up is not a nice place. The township holding cell is typically filled with domestic violence complaints and drunks. The county jail is filled with real criminals. Rapists, felons, thieves, murderers.

It was clear I would not do well in county.

Since I had no prior arrests and there was no one available to review my file, my attorney convinced the police officer to release me 'charges pending'. Part of the agreement was that I could have no contact with The Ex. No phone calls, no text messages and certainly no physical contact. This put me in a difficult position. I couldn't go home and had nowhere to sleep.

One problem with my 'true friends' - none of them live in Michigan. Well, other than The Ex, and since she was the one who sent me to jail I couldn't really ask her for help. I had no place to go. Realizing that I didn't have a single local person in my life that I could turn to was not my proudest moment.

I could have gone to a hotel, but I wasn't ready to be alone after my night in jail. In desperation, I turned to Don and Chris. Don and Chris are a very pleasant couple I know through my steel tip dart league. I'm not sure why I called them. They've both been sympathetic, but we weren't that close and I had no reason to believe they had any interest in getting involved. I called Chris cold and simply told her I had no place to stay.

She offered to put me up. Talk about the kindness of strangers.

Don and Chris have a beautiful older bungalow on the East Side. Their house reminded me of the house I grew up in. Their spare room is upstairs in the dormer area of the house - exactly like my room growing up. There is a narrow, steep staircase into the upper level. After my night in the holding cell, I was dead tired and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I got up early, washed, shaved and dressed for court. I didn't want to stay for coffee, breakfast or conversation. I was embarrassed by my situation and just wanted to run away. I was lost and adrift.

If Chris had said no, I probably would have slept in my car. Not that I couldn't afford a hotel, but after being caged alone I simply couldn't handle the idea of an impersonal hotel room. I'm almost ashamed to say it, but being in jail scared me. I had no idea how long I would be there. Sure, I was innocent, but the jails are filled with people who believe they are innocent.

By now you are probably wondering why I was in jail. In fact, you probably only skimmed through the last ten paragraphs looking for this very fact. Well, I'm sorry to tell you, I'm not sure why I was in jail. The official report was 'suspected domestic violence'. Fortunately for me, there was no actual evidence that any crime had been committed.


On Tuesday I got a call from the police telling me that the prosecutor's office had "denied my warrant". It meant that they did not feel there was 'probable cause' that a crime had been committed. No harm, no foul. Sure, it would have been easier if they had simply not arrested me, but I wouldn't have learned how blessed I really am.


I was lucky. And my lucky streak continued after being released.

On Tuesday afternoon Gary From Work offered me a place to stay. Gary and I were not friends. Gary was a co-worker. A nice guy who I respected, but we'd never gone out to lunch or had a beer together. By my definition, he was 'an acquaintance'. Why would he offer me a place to stay? Gary was divorced about eight years ago. I think he saw a guy in trouble and decided to take a risk and reach out.

I'm glad he did. I stayed at Gary's the entire week. I needed to get out of my house to let the temperature cool down and Gary gave me the space I needed. But I think there may be an indirect benefit for Gary too.

One evening our conversation somehow strayed to Gary's last colonoscopy and I had to ask, "How did you get home?" For 15 years I could always depend on having a ride home from the hospital. I asked Gary because I realize I've got no one to drive me home anymore.

Gary said he lied about having a ride, then waited and drove himself home. He said that one downside of being single is that you can only depend on yourself.

I promise you, the next time that guy gets a colonoscopy, I'll be there to drive him home. Just for giving me a place to stay he's already well on the way to making the next edition of the Friendship Hall of Fame. I owe him.

Now that I am single I am more dependent that ever before on my social network and my friends. I realize how important it is to stay connected and to keep reaching out. I realize no man is an island. I realize my success or failure is no longer completely within my control. I realize that to have friends you need to first be a good friend. And rest assured, when the day comes and I need a colonoscopy, I'll be calling one of you.

So I ended up in jail. And yes, it sucked. But I got to see just how great a friend Uncle Dave is. I gained a new appreciation for the kindness of friends like Don and Chris. And I made a new friend in Gary. All in all, not a bad week. Add one more thing to the 'benefits' side of the divorce ledger - a new appreciation for the importance of friendship.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again - single life is not what I wanted. But I am more determined than ever to make the best of it.