Veterans Day times two

This month I got a twofer.  The centennial commemoration of the end of The Great War I, formerly Armistice Day which became Veterans Day in America, fell on a Sunday, and the federal holiday fell on Monday.  So I got to go at noon on both days to the Lost Dog Cafe in Westover in Arlington, my favorite pizzeria besides Joe and Pats on Staten Island, to have lunch in my ongoing attempt for the last decade and a half to re-establish familial communications with my estranged sons (the divorce, you know), especially since it was such a notable holiday, especially since my middle son is, I believe, a military history buff as am I.

No one showed up, of course.  My sons are interesting people for sure, very unusual in their human motives and emotions.  I regret to say that research into PAS shows that children abused by one parent utilizing it for their own advantage in the divorce wars grow up insecure, lacking affect as adults and many experience failure in their own relationships.

But the pizzas were delicious each day.  More for me, yay!  I'm going to give up my quest to finally encounter the white whale soon, probably on my youngest child's thirtieth birthday.

I hope they have a nice life.  Their lack of interest in or simple concern for a single aspect of anyone on my side of our family is abnormal in the extreme but it is typical of Parental Alienation Syndrome.  Sharon, Meg, her intimate friend the psychologist who cleared the lowly LCSW's grotesque counseling conflict, Vic, Bill, Joe, Van Sicko, and all the rest of the parasites in the coterie of "professionals" ruined, in my opinion, my children's lives, and these vicious murderers of childhoods are fine with the devastation they unleashed as adults against my tender children (they drove the most vulnerable of my minor children to overtly express suicidal and violent ideation against me in his pathetic attempt to please them during their relentless and heartless badgering of him).