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September 14, 2005
Decide Already pt 1
As long as I can remember my parents haven't gotten along. Sure, there were times when they seemed not to detest each other's presence, but on a whole I'd have to say they acted more like people that hate each other than two people madly in love. My mom claims the antimocity between them started when, on the eve of my brother's baptism, my dad threw a knife at her.
I haven't asked my dad about it to, you know, verify it happened. But if I did and he denies it ever happened I'm supposed to ask my uncle, whom the kflying knife narrowly missed.
I have no idea what sparked the argument -- I assume there was one -- leading up to the knife throwing, and neither does my mom, the more forthcoming of the two when it comes to such things. I have been told, however, that an argument about the amount of black berries in the house prompted the first mention -- or demand as it were -- of "divorce."
The summer had apparently been hotter than usual in Southern Wisconsin, and that's apparently good news to black berry harvesters. Since I don't live in Wisconsin nor do I harvest blackberries I can only go off what I'm told.
Since those supposed facts work well with the rest of the supposed facts I'm going to treat them as bon-a-fide facts. The other "facts," well, they're still supposed, and they are:
My dad had been picking berries like crazy all summer. He had a pretty good harvest, already more than the previous year, but the berries were still coming. Afraid of losing even part of the crop in the public park to some thief, like he had the year before, he set aside his entire weekend for blackberry gathering. After working all day Saturday and bringing home several 5 quart buckets of berries he went out again on Sunday.
My dad spent all day Sunday - 8 hours - gathering berries and returned to a happy house smelling of sweet blackberry pies and jams. While he was out picking the berries my mother was at home baking pies and otherwise turning the raw berries into scrumptuous treats.
She turned to see my dad with more berries than the day before and with only the most innocent intentions said, "Are you planning on selling these berries?"
To this my dad responded with an explosion of anger. "I want a fucking divorce."
The number of quarts of berries and the attitude with which the question was asked, even whether the reply was indeed the reply, is no longer important. The fact is, my dad did demand a divorce.
Then for some reason they called my sister. "Your father and I are fighting."
"About what?"
"I...I...I can't talk right now. Talk to him."
"I told your mother I want a fucking divorce. She's driving me crazy."
Two weeks later I got a call from my brother. "Did you get the crying call yet?"
"What?"
"Did mom call you yet?"
"No. Why?"
"Dad asked her for a divorce today."
"Shut up."
"No. Seriously. Dad came over here crying and shit and asked me if he and mom should get divorced."
"You're kidding."
"No. I swear. He asked and I told him yes. So he asked her."
"He just drove home and asked her?"
"No. She was at her sister's house -- watching their horse or something -- and he called her and told her."
"He called her up and asked her for a divorce?"
"Yeah. And he must have done it right away. She called me up and told me less than an hour and a half after he left my house."
"Well, she didn't call here."
"She will, Dude. I'm just warning you."
She didn't call that day, or the next, so I called up my brother. "Dude. You're so full of shit. Neither of them called me."
"I'm not lying."
"Well, they didn't call me."
He told me he had talked to my sister. She hadn't gotten a call that weekend, she had gotten the call two weeks prior on the night of the blackberry incident.
"So Dad demanded a divorce a couple weeks ago. They called up our sister to let us know. None of them let us know. Then this weekend dad asked you if he should ask for a divorce again. You said 'yes' and then he asked mom. Again."
"I guess. He told mom that I told him he should get a divorce."
"That's why she called you?"
"I guess. She's been calling my wife too. Crying on the phone with her."
"Well, I only know what you told me."
Posted by calculatoronfire at September 14, 2005 12:38 AM
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Comments
i think it's seriously wrong to ask your KIDS if you should get a divorce.
fuc ked up, man.
that said:
RE the knife throwing:
was your mom, perhaps, wearing cowboy boots and a bikini at the time?
http://www.shef.ac.uk/nfa/images/shufflephotos/shuff2.jpg
or,
was your dad perhaps confused about religion? it being pre-baptism and
all...maybe he thought it was more like a bris, and required some cutting, of
something. :)
Posted by: d2ana at September 14, 2005 07:27 PM
i remember my birthday was coming up and my parents sat me down and explained how it wasn't my fault.
i wished many times after that they'd gone through with it.
Posted by: j. at September 25, 2005 02:46 AM