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.

The Friendship Hall of Fame

In my post "Could You Be Loved?" I wrote that my emotional handicap prevented me from recognizing the people I love. I think it's high time I rectified that mistake. I call the people I love my 'True Friends'. Best Friend Brian once noted that "A friend is someone who helps you move. A 'true friend' is someone who helps you move a body."

Words to live by.

I'm going to start by recognizing "The Best of the Best" with the inauguration of the "Friendship Hall of Fame". These people represent my best friends throughout life. Sure we've had our ups and downs, and in at least one case I highly doubt we will ever be friends again, but history is history. If you made the Hall of Fame at any time, you're in for good.

No matter how many times you falsely call the cops on me.

What are the qualifications for the Friendship Hall of Fame? To be eligible for the Friendship Hall of Fame you need to be privy to at least one of my five most embarrassing moments or most secrety secrets. You need to be someone I would (or did) call if I was in jail. To vote you have to be "me". A minimum of 100% of the vote is required to qualify.

This list is limited to the "Best of the Best". If you're not on this list it doesn't mean I don't love you, it only means we haven't known each other long enough. And I get tired after about 25 minutes of typing.

I don't need any angry emails. I get enough of those from The Ex's attorney. Keep your complaints to yourself.

My Dad
What can I possibly say that hasn't been said already? He was my best friend and role model. He taught me how to be a man and the importance of responsibility. Even now that he's gone, my objective in life is to make him proud. His favorite saying was "The best a man can do is his best."

I tried to find the origination of that quote, but I couldn't find a reference. The closest thing I could find was:

"If a man does his best, what else is there?" - George S. Patton

I don't know if my father simply corrupted the Patton quote or if he was the originator. I suppose in the end it doesn't matter. His point was that in all things, if you put forth your best effort, you can live with no regrets or embarrassment. In school or in life, whenever I hit a roadblock he would ask "Did you try your best?"

"Yes."

"Then you've got nothing to be ashamed of."

I wish I could find some comfort in those words now that my marriage and life is collapsing around me, but I think the sting of failure is a little too fresh.

Uncle Dave
If I had a brother growing up, I could not have loved him more than I love Uncle Dave. He's simply the best friend a guy could ever have. I've known him since I was six. He's more a part of my family than my actual family members. Uncle Dave welcomed me into his family when my own family imploded. He's given me "the safe place to land" that I needed. He is godfather to my children and the only person I would want to raise them in my absence. His personal integrity is unsurpassed. He treats everyone he meets with respect and kindness.

Being around Uncle Dave makes me want to be a better person. If you know him, you probably call him a friend too.

And yes, he's the person I called when I was in jail last week.

Best Friend Brian
If Uncle Dave is Babe Ruth, Best Friend Brian would be Honus Wagner. BFB was present at no less than two of my most embarrassing moments and he was the person I ran to for support the day after my wife left me.

Also known as "My Worst Day Ever".

We are as close as brothers, even when we don't see eye to eye. We shared an apartment in college. He was the best man at my wedding. He is sensitive and thoughtful. He's one of maybe half a dozen people who have ever seen me cry. And unfortunately, he was put in an almost impossible position when my wife left me.

He has been a 'True Friend' to her as well.

He's been the guy in the middle through this whole process. No matter how many hurtful, deceitful, wicked, malicious, manipulative things my ex-wife does to me and our children, BFB still tries to give her the benefit of the doubt. It's one of the things that makes him such a great friend, even though it aggravates the piss out of me.

The Ex
She's the Pete Rose or Shoeless Joe of this list. Unfortunately, we don't have a process for banning or removing members, otherwise I'd have jettisoned her this weekend. Her recent behavior in having me arrested (after she assaulted me) and convincing my kids to lie to social services is reprehensible, but for over 15 years she was a great friend - my best friend. Unfortunately, much like her father, when stressed she simply cannot tell the difference between right and wrong.

I hope my kids don't inherit this from her.

We were a great team for almost 17 years. I would have done anything for her. Unfortunately, she chose her 'facebook' friends over our marriage. By my calculations they've only got sixteen years of love and support to catch up to me.

I wonder how her decision will look in ten years?

I often wonder if we'll ever get to the point where we could be friends again? I doubt it, but I've been surprised before. That's a funny thing about life, none of us can really see into the future and often times reality can be stranger than fiction.

If we could be friends again, I would like that.

The Princess of Darkness
My first love and a good friend to this day. I'm blessed to know her. I already dedicated a whole post to her, no sense rehashing what you already know.

She's also got a great set of middle aged boobs.

And, I'm off the Christmas card list...

Mom
No, not my mother. 'Mom' is my biological mother. We were lucky enough to find each other after a very, very long time and strangely picked up right where we left off. Well, except for the diapers and breastfeeding.

Yes, I really went there for a cheap laugh. What, do you want an apology? Have you never read this blog before?

If you don't count my birth and first month of life, she's the newest member of this list. Which I find to be odd. Even though we haven't really known each other that long, there's a very deep bond. I consider her a great friend and she's really good with the kids. For my kids, it's as if they have three grandmothers. For me, it's like I found a whole new extended family.

Captain Kirk
My oldest friend. Captain Kirk and I played together when I was four years old. He was my best friend throughout elementary school. Growing up, I spent more time at his house than I did my own. Every summer day started the exact same way - with me crossing the street to knock on his door.

The Captain has a rather strange handicap. He is physically and emotionally incapable of dialing a telephone. I've known him for 38 years, and in that entire time he has probably called me less than 25 times. It's nothing personal either - he does it to all his friends.

For the life of me, I have no idea how he ever got married. I often wonder how his wife could have been that persistent. Was she so enamored with him that she was willing to put up with his social handicap? Did she think he had money? Personally, I can't believe any woman could be that secure to put up with a boyfriend who never calls. Maybe she was into bad boys and thought he was "too cool to call".

Man, was she wrong.

Recently, The Captain called me, and all I could think of was how incredibly jacked up my life must be to get him to pick up the phone. Perhaps his wife or Mom dialed the phone for him? I'll never know. But it was awfully nice to hear from him.

The Captain is the original "good guy". He's always pleasant, easy going and fun to be around. If he wasn't socially crippled, he'd be the life of the party and the guy everyone would want to hang around. As it is, "I have always been, and always shall be" his friend.

Whether he likes it or not.

Billy Baked Potatoes
I met Billy at our college freshman orientation in 1987. We've been friends ever since.

Billy and I share the same birthday. A bone of contention between us was who was older - who owned "The Birthright". Since I was adopted, my official "state issued" birth certificate is pretty much blank and we were unable to determine what time I was born to settle the argument. One drunken evening Billy and I decided to play a game of billiards to determine "The Birthright" once and for all. I won, and ever since he has been my little bitch.

Billy is the hardest working man I know. If I worked one tenth as hard as him, I'd be a billionaire. All through college I coasted on talent, perfectly happy to slide by with minimal effort. Billy was the scrappy gamer who couldn't settle for anything less than perfection. Driven doesn't even begin to describe him. The man works as if Old Scratch himself is three feet behind and closing fast.

Billy is a role model for me. He has many of the same qualities my father had. He understands the responsibilities that come with being a man. He understands the difference between right and wrong and has the integrity to always do the right thing, even when it's inconvenient.

Doli Madison
Another friend from T-ball. Doli was a year behind the rest of us growing up, and had the misfortune of attending St. Charles Catholic elementary school when the rest of us were at Renwood. But he lived on our street and, being an only child, had the coolest toys. I'm ashamed to admit it, but we only let him play with us for his Legos.

He had the coolest Legos. Not just the colored blocks for building houses - he had all the cool pieces needed to build 'spaceships'! This was during the time of the inception of NASA's space shuttle program. All we built and dreamed about growing up were spaceships.

He was also the only one with a swimming pool and basketball hoop. So many cool toys.

Doli is "the faithful" one. He is the most steadfast, loyal, earnest man I have ever met. He doesn't have a mean or hurtful bone in his body. No matter how jacked up his life gets, "the Dude abides." Nothing flusters him, nothing discourages him, nothing gets (or keeps) him down for long. In this divorce he's my role model. Keep your head up and keep marching? Doli is the one to set the pace.

Stace
Since this is a family blog, I'm going to keep most of my comments to myself, but Stace is definitely one of a kind. Much like most of the people in the Hall of Fame, we met in T-ball too. It's amazing to me how many great friends came out of that one summer. Uncle Dave, Captain Kirk, Doli Madison, Stace. That was a heck of a team.

Is it odd that I have the same friends from when I was six years old?

Stace was a great friend to me after my Dad passed. He helped to take my mind off the loss and kept me sane.

I could do three blog posts on this guy alone, but I think this post is long enough.

***

There you go - the first ten inductees into my Friendship Hall of Fame. I'm so happy they've allowed me to be part of their lives. I wouldn't be the person I am without their love, guidance and support.

For the rest of the people I love, you are all number 11.Twenty-years from now I hope I'll be able to add ten more.