One Little Name on a List

Newspapers got such a name because what was reported in them noticed the unusual happenings, making what was written seem so much different from what is considered normal living.  It was NEWS, the stories about robbery or accidents, or floods.
It wasn’t until recent times for the ‘feel good’ stories.
I suppose it had something to do with the cost of paper and ink.

After awhile, a notice in the paper became a necessary step of getting something to become legal, making sure all parties concerned had a chance to speak up to claim debt.
When my husband became Executor of his dad’s estate, the lawyer’s assistant saw to it for the little ad in the Classified Section to get printed.
When I was taking a class in Illinois State Government, I asked the Instructor about the Legal Notices for all kinds of situations, like beginning a business or adoption of a child.
So many requirements get written about in itty-bitty type in a newspaper.

I suppose this says something about the way my thoughts tend to lean toward the shady side of life.

KUDZU Click on picture for full comic

As soon as I bring in the newspaper on a Sunday morning, I sort through and find the section where the DIVORCE notices are listed.  It’s not usually in the same place as the Obituaries, although Death of a Marriage can be just as important.  I look in the paper because their website does not Update such information until Monday.  There is a business to maintain, after all, so buying a paper means we get it sooner than logging online.

Anyway, a few times in the Sunday edition, there have been names I know on the list of Divorces.  At least one, I knew it was coming, so seeing it in print was the Finale of some hateful bickering.
Another was merely my acquaintance, but I worry about their school-age children.

The third was so sad that I began crying into my oatmeal.  The guy did not see it coming.
Last Fall, it so happened that I ran into him at the bakery about a week after his wife left, taking their daughters with her to her father’s house, and leaving her husband a handwritten letter.  He was making excuses for her, saying she was so emotional that she couldn’t talk to him face-to-face.  My own opinion is a coward running hard and fast.

We ended up sitting for an hour on the bench in the front of the store while he poured out his life’s story and his heartache.  We were so long together, he was so choked up, that the bakery owner came over to see if everything was alright.
I’m not an expert marriage counselor or anything, he just needed a somewhat amicable, though not so familiar, buddy to talk with.

Their name was on the Divorce list last week.  I’d estimate about six months paperwork to wipe away 16 years as a family.

Heaven knows, much as I love my spouse, there have been times when I didn’t feel like I should even bother to turn the car into the driveway.  My own mother did not believe that George and I would still be together a year after the wedding.  For our 25th anniversary, she wrote a note in the card about how she didn’t think we would last, but we proved her wrong.

Even after 26 years, every once in awhile, I’ll get up in the morning and stare out the window at the beauty of Nature in the backyard, then promise myself that one more day will set things right again.  I can’t stay mad much longer than a day, I like hugging too much.
And with menopause, the hormones are not wreaking havoc every month, so I’m trying to mellow without getting too ritualistic.

Plus, there’s that little spot in the back of my mind that tells me to not let my name be in the newspaper on the Divorce list.
Somebody in the county could be reading the paper over breakfast and have a shock like a needle jabbed into her heart.

~~love and Huggs, Diane

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