Yesterday was the Martin Luther King holiday, so as is my wont on holidays, I had lunch at noon at the local gourmet pizza restaurant. Any of my three estranged children are free to join me at these lunchtime fetes, but they had their wills severely overborne by their mother and her coterie of "professionals" as minors during the lengthy, costly divorce orchestrated by her, and I guess they're still mesmerized by her domineering influence as adults.
Western domestic law, it's a total failure and would be an absurd joke except that its ramifications are so serious, tearing families apart permanently, depleting every estate it gets its claws into and totally bankrupting everybody's emotions, especially the children's. I got to thinking while I dined with the empty chair again that, although I have seen recent pictures and obtained a little information on the internet about the doings of my oldest and youngest sons, I haven't had a scrap of information about my middle child nor seen a picture of him in over a decade.
I don't know if I would recognize this son of mine, now a man if he's living, if I was looking straight at him while asking him for directions at a bus stop. I always walk around the food establishment after I order and try to look closely at any man around thirty who is present, but you can't just stand near a table and peer intently at diners in a restaurant so who knows?
Now there's even a wife of one of them in the mix, she too is welcome to come join me for lunch any holiday or birthday there, and I hope the studies I've read about the extreme disaffection and lack of any emotional attachment these victimized children display as adults are all wrong. I plan to be at the Lost Dog Cafe in Westover for lunch at noon on Presidents Day, kids.