Missed you at Five Guys at Merrifield today at noon, Dan. The cheeseburger (fresh ground beef, never frozen) was dreamy, with grilled mushrooms, tomato, mayo and catsup. With the fries (cooked in pure, no cholesterol tasty peanut oil), it was more than one person could eat so I cut the sandwich in two and enjoyed my half. When you didn't appear after half an hour, I bused the table, threw out your coagulated portion and left with even a heavier heart than I entered with.
You were barely 12 when you (and your brothers, also minors) were dragged into the divorce litigation up to your eyeballs (as the trial judge said) by the primary caregiver and her coterie of "professionals." This was classic PAS, which some people term child abuse.
So you haven't spoken to me meaningfully, or seen me, since you were barely 14, though you all lived two miles away and I came by the house and called for you from the curb every other Friday from 2003-2007, and called and wrote all holidays and birthdays until the house was sold the next year and my requests for forwarding addresses for my children were refused. It wasn't me who was the scofflaw during the primacy of all those custodial and visitation orders.
You'll be twenty-one in a few weeks, whereupon I'll cease my ceaseless efforts to reconnect. Then it'll be up to you, son. You know where I live, in the house you grew up in, and I'm "in the book." I sure want to see you but I sure wouldn't want to be you.
At noon on President's Day, Monday, February 15, 2010, I'll be at Clare and Don's Beach Shack in Falls Church on Lee Highway (130 North Washington Street), across the street from the Kaiser Permanente Medical Center and right next door to the State Theatre. Join me for lunch, on me! We'll ketchup on the last seven years.