Why I Won't Cheat On My Wife - The Return of the Wood Lady part two

Reading the letter from the Wood Lady caused memories of other women that my dad was involved with to surface.

Shortly after my parents last divorce, I met the trash that my Mom had told me about.

I was at my dad's on Christmas Eve and his place was sparse to say the least. He had a couch and a recliner facing his first television with a remote control in the living room.

In each bedroom, there were matresses sitting on box springs without any bed frames.

There wasn't much else there but it still felt like home.

My dad needed to take us back to my Mom's but somebody delayed our return.

Truthfully, I don't even remember her name. I know she lived down the street from us and she had three kids that were always up to no good.

At best, she was a barfly.

At worst, she was probably a whore.

Now, she was at my dad's and she had a Christmas present for me.

There was no need to unwrap it. It was a Chaps by Ralph Lauren gift set.

The price sticker from Savon was still on the box.

I thanked her for the present and counted the minutes until I would have the opportunity to launch it.

It was the only time in my life that my dad disappointed me. I had hoped that this letter wouldn't bring me any other disappointments.

I've read this letter one hundred times and it always starts the same way.

Dear Number 2,

I hope I don't offend you by writing this but I just feel compelled to write. I want to tell you how much your father loved you. I know that you already know that but it always feels good to hear it from someone else.

(That was nice to read. I wonder what she's going to talk about next).

Let me tell you how I knew your dad.

(Oh shit! Here it comes. The answer to how the Wood Lady became my dad's secret girlfriend)

I went to high school our senior year at Santa Maria High School way back in 1961. We really didn't know each other very well then. Just a hello in passing. He told me he had a crush on me but I never believed him. I think that was just a pick up line. Ha ha.

(Ummm....gross)

Then sometime between your mom and dad's second and final breakup and my divorce from my first husband, your father and I ran into each other while I was working one night at a friends bar for the first and last time waiting tables.

(The Gap Band can now start playing "You Dropped the Bomb on me." WTF is going on here???)

We got to talking and starting dating and I fell madly in love with him.

(I can't believe what I reading. The Wood Lady isn't somebody that my dad was involved with for the last for years. Their history goes back to when I was four years old. How does this happen?)

VW

(to be continued - yes, Roberta, I'm a blog-tease)

Why I Won't Cheat On My Wife - The Return of the Wood Lady

I have a snippet of a memory from right after my parent's final divorce that has always haunted me.

I'm sitting in the front seat of my Mom's 1978 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme and she is driving.

We are having a conversation about something that I have no memory of but I distinctly remember when the conversation changed directions.

My Mom said that my dad was "probably with one of his girlfriends."

I did what any 12 year old would have done at this point.

I stuck up for my dad.

"He doesn't have any girlfriends," I replied with 100% certainty and defiance.

My Mom took her eyes off the road for a little too long and made eye contact with me. I don't know what was behind that look.

Anger?

Resentment?

Pain?

Whatever it was, she lashed out.

"He does to have girlfriends. He has lots of them. And you know what? They are nothing but trash."

She turned her gaze back to the road as I sat mortified in the front seat.

And then that memory fades to black. I don't remember what happens next.

I hadn't really thought about that much until Number 2 showed up at our house with a letter.

It was from the Wood Lady.

Number 2 hasn't really been online much recently so I guess she felt the need to send something via snail mail.

I opened up the envelope that Number 2 gave me and started to read.

All of a sudden, I felt like that embarrassed kid sitting in the front seat of that Oldsmobile all over again.

VW

Dead Letter Office

One thing that I got really good at during my teenage years living with my dad was getting to the mail before he did.

You never really knew when a teacher was going to mail home an unsatisfactory notice or the City of Long Beach was going to send a follow up letter for a speeding ticket.

So I was always ready to pounce on the mail upon my arrival.

Now, I get my dad's mail everyday.

It wasn't as easy as it should have been. I went to his local post office first but then they just sent me to my local post office to send to submit the paperwork.

I'm sure it made a lot of sense to the soon to go on a shooting rampage but it didn't make a whole heck of a lot of sense to me.

Some of the mail was just ironic. Solicitation for life insurance and assistance with Medicare and Medicaid (no thank you).

And then there were the letters from different politicians and political groups. It was so strange to see in the same mailbox letters from Ted Kennedy and the NRA asking for donations to their political campaigns.

The bills started rolling in too. What was so strange is that every credit card he had was paid off the month before he died. There's one that has a positive balance of four bucks and some change.

The worst thing I think I've received was from a lawyer that was looking to represent our family so we could sue whoever was responsible for his death.

I'm not ready to sue the makers of single malt scotch so I put that letter in the recycle bin.

But what has really been amazing about my dad's mail is that it doesn't appear to be stopping.

Every day there is more mail. Another offer. Another solicitation

And now, 20 years later, I find myself once again opening up letters that I know he'll never see.

VW

Hang on Loopey, Loopey hang on

Part of my regular routine every Monday and Wednesday was to wait for the Chicken's nanny, Loopey to arrive in the morning.

We hired Loopey after I was forced to change my days off at work. The Chicken was only one at the time and too young for preschool. A nanny was going to be a pretty big expense for us - even though it was only two days a week. But the lesson I learned was that if you think it is the right thing to do for your kid, money is no object.

We went through a nanny agency and interviewed three candidates. Loopey was the only one to have an instant connection with the Chicken. We hired her on the spot.

And for that year, Loopey was great. She was constantly doing more than what she needed to do. We just wanted somebody with the Chicken that would enjoy being with her and keep her stimulated. We got so much more.

We would come home to furniture rearranged and home-made flan in the refrigerator.

The first time I came home to find my laundry done...well...you could have knocked me over with a feather.

On the first Monday after my father died, she was very kind and wanted to know if she could go to the funeral (I gave her directions but she didn't make it).

The next time I saw Loopey, she had something for me. It was two issues of the Watchtower that dealt with death.

I thanked her for them because I knew what her intentions were. She wasn't like the people that come to your door on Sunday. She did it because she cared about us.

Because of that, I'm not going to knock that particular religion here. I read the Watchtowers and was surprised that they were written at about the 3rd grade reading level. I was also surprised that they believe that death is like one big nap. (I'm not joking here).

I kept the Watchertowers around long enough to let Loopey know that I had read them before my Mom actually threw them away.

After a while, the normal routine of waiting for Loopey to arrive resumed.

Until the day Loopey showed up crying.

In her broken English, she told me that she needed to move her family out of Santa Ana. Her oldest was getting into trouble and she felt like the only thing she could do is move them to Portland. She didn't want to leave the Chicken but she felt like this was her only choice.

And today was going to be her last day.

Normally, I don't think that this would have been such a big deal.

But after the loss of my father, I wasn't ready to lose someone that was so important to my child.

I consoled her while in my head I was wondering "What the f are we supposed to do now?"

I left the house and started driving to work. I would email the Commander later to tell her what was going on. I wasn't going to call her about this. I had somebody else to call first.

Number 2 was going to be coming out of retirement to become a nanny.

VW

Mega Millions

My father-in-law and I were almost done refurbishing the my dad's place when we turned our attention towards the garage.

My dad's truck had been parked there since the week that he had passed away.

Throughout most of my life, my dad had a company car. Usually an El Camino. He was so bummed when that model was discontinued.

A few years ago he purchased a little Chevy Silverado.

It was a sled and that guy loved nothing more than to tempt fate risk getting a ticket for exhibition of speed.

The Commander and I always laughed when he pulled away from our house on his Sunday visits. It always sounded like someone pulling out of pit row at a race track.

Now his car was sitting there. Unused and unwashed.

I had been turning the engine over once a week but I didn't ever drive it around.

A decision was going to have to be made soon regarding the truck. It was going to have to go somewhere.

My father-in-law asked me if I had taken everything out of the truck and I thought I had but we decided to check one more time.

The vanilla scent of the air freshener was overwhelming when we opened the truck.

I hadn't done a thorough search before and we turned up a couple of new items.

The first thing I found was a brochure for Forrest Lawn - Cypress.

My first thought was that maybe we buried him in the wrong place.

My second thought was that it was too late now.

My father-in-law checked the sun visors and an orange piece of paper fluttered to the truck's floor.

It was a lotto ticket.

A Mega Millions lotto ticket for the first drawing after the day my dad died.

Now I hadn't heard about a winning ticket that hadn't been cashed in but I could help but think how much it would have sucked for this to be a winning ticket.

My father-in-law handed it to me and I put it in my wallet for the time being.

It was a day or two later when I took it to a 7/11 to check and see if my dad was a winner.

I stuck the ticket into the red scanner light of the "Are You A Winner?" lotto machine and in a minute the message that I was dreading appeared on the screen.

"Congratulations! Please see the retailer!"

I can not believe this is a winning lotto ticket. I give it to the old man behind the counter and tell him that I've got a winning ticket. How much is this thing going to be worth?

"Sir, you have won three dollars. Would you like that in cash or would you like to play again?"

I make an audible sigh of relief and ask for two singles and four quarters.

After all, half of this win belongs to Number 2.

VW

3.0

Number 2 came over to tell the Commander and I what he wanted to do next.

It had been close to two months since he'd quit his job and my Mom and Grandma were starting to get a little antsy regarding Number 2's sudden retirement from the workforce.

I wasn't worried about it. Number 2 wasn't wasting any money and he bought his house on the right side of this current housing boom in California. Money has allowed him to have the most precious of commodities.

He's got time.

Time to make the right decision for himself.

Time to make sure that he's ready for the next stage in his life.

Time to figure out what he REALLY wants to do.

I'm hoping that he'll go back to school. He's a smart kid but nobody could push him to do better in school. He just wasn't that interested in it.

There was also a time where he had no problem taking shots at me for how long it took me to finish college.

And I let him do that because I knew where we were both going to end up.

But he's got the opportunity to change that right now.

And it's not like he's never had success in school.

In his junior year of high school, he brought home a report card that had two A's, two B's, and two C's.

A 3.0 for Number 2? Frankly, it was unheard of.

He couldn't wait to show it to my folks.

And my dad blew it.

"3.0? This would have been a lot higher if it wasn't for the two C's you got."

That comment wasn't serious. My dad was joking with Number 2.

Number 2 didn't see it that way and he ran away from home the next day.

At least he left a note to say that he was running away. But he didn't give my dad a reason why he ran away.

Number 2 left that for me.

My dad was frantic. "Why did he do this? Why did he run away?" my dad asked.

He was so angry. His large fists beating on the bar in our kitchen.

"It's because of the crap you gave him for his report card."

My dad went from angry to terrified immediately.

"What are you saying, VW? I was joking with him." He was close to a breaking point.

"Well, he didn't see it that way. I guess he felt like that if a 3.0 wasn't good enough for you there wasn't anything that he was going to be able to do."

My dad put his head down and began sobbing. At the time, I just felt awkward and embarrassed for him. But now with the Chicken around, I understand how devastating that must have been.

The realization that you just let your kid down.

Damn, that had to hurt.

"I know you don't like it when I touch you but I just need to hug you right now," cried my dad.

Before I could protest, he was around the bar and holding on to me harder and longer than at any other time in my life.

As awkward and embarrassed as I felt a moment ago, it was now multiplied by about a thousand times. I was pissed at Number 2 for putting me the position that I was in now - consoling my dad.

After for the last 19 years, this has been one of the memories that pop into my head and immediately make me embarrassed.

It was also the last time I hugged my dad.

And now, as I write this, that moment isn't something that is embarrassing anymore. It is the one single moment of my life where I know I did something to help my dad.

I have an indelible memory of that hug and I know that when I miss him, I can travel to the past and be right in that moment.

In my present, Number 2 is telling the Commander and I what he's going to do.

"I'm going to go back to Long Beach City College and start working towards a degree."

I ask him what he wants to do.

"I think I want to teach retards," said Number 2.

That's perfect, Number 2.

Let's just try to get that 3.0 again.

VW

Happy Birthday, Pop!

Obviously, my posting has slowed quite a bit over the last three weeks.

Part of it is because I was crazy-sick for the better part of a month.

Part of it is because it has been crazy-busy at work too.

But most of all, it is because this day has been approaching.

Today is March 12th and my dad would have been 63 today.

I made arrangements with my wife to make sure that Number 2 would be here today. He's in the living room now getting tutored in math by my father-in-law. I didn't want him being alone today.

I took the Chicken out this morning and picked up a lemon meringue pie. We will have some later tonight before the Sopranos has their season premiere (my dad's favorite dessert and show).

And both Number 2 and I have had some weird moments today too. At his meeting this morning, the biblical story that was shared was about the Prodigal Son. As he sat there listening to it, he couldn't help but think that something weird was going on. The last conversation that we know our father having was with my grandma. It was all about the story of the Prodigal Son. He had heard it at the funeral that he attended the day before he died.

Freaky, huh?

My moment isn't nearly as strange. While the Chicken and I were out, I turned the Sirius radio to the Kid's Stuff channel (she doesn't need to listen to Stern just yet). The first full song to play was Polly Wolly Doodle which was one of the songs that we played at my dad's service.

Weird, huh?

What makes it a little weirder is that I left Number 2 and my father-in-law in the living room to be math buddies and went to the Chicken's room to take a nap. I turned on her CD player so I wouldn't be able to hear them and the first full song to play was....you guessed it....Polly Wolly Doodle.

So, there's pretty much no chance of a nap now. I thought I'd come in here and quickly post this before going to the kitchen and having a piece of pie.

Happy birthday, Pop. We don't ever stop thinking about you.

VW

PS....So after the Sopranos, the new Bill Paxton vehicle debuts on HBO. It's theme song you ask? God Only Knows by the Beach Boys. Today has been a weird day.

Grandpa got ran over by a lathe, dear - conclusion

Even approaching 90 years old, my grandmother has embraced email. I got this one from her the other day (and no, she's not yelling...she just types in all caps).

HI VW,

NOT A LOT ATO WRITE ABOUT. YOUR GRANDFATHER SITS IN TH;E CHAIR MOST OF
THE DAY WITH HIS FEET ELEATED, AS THE LEG IS STILL SWOLLEN AND HE ANKLE
QUITE BADLY. STILL BLACK AND BLUE, BUT DOES PUT HIS SHOES ON TO GO TO POSTE
OFFICE EVERY DAY.

SHARON STYED A WEEK. SHE LEFT YESTRDAY WITH MY CAR. SOLD IT TO HER
FOR A GRANDSON FOR 950.00. THAT WAS FAIR BLUE DBOOK VALUE.

OUR FRIENDS FROM THE MOUNTAINS--BRIDTEPORT ARE COMING TODAY. THEY WILL
BRING A TRAILERK. HE HAS LOTS OF MEDICAL EXPEERIENCE SINCE HIS FAATHER
WAS A DOCTOTR. PERHAPS HE WILL GET YOUR GRANDAD BACK TOE TH HOSPITAL FOR SOME FURTHER AHELP.L WILL SEE.. I KNOW YOU WILL PARDON ALL MY MISTEAKES SINCE MY EYES ARE WORSE AND MY NUM,B FINGERS ALSO. . I WOULD NEVER GET A NOTE WRITETEN WELL ANYMORE WITH THIS SMALL PRINT AND MY EYES SO BAD. BUT PRAISE THE LORD, AM SETILL ON MY FEET.

WE WILL HOPE TO SEE YOU ALL SOMETIME IN THE NEAR FUTURE, WHEN YOUR
GRANDAD CAN ENJOY THE CHICKEN.

LOVE TO ALL GRANDMA

Well, sounds like things are returning to normal for them. I think that this was a close one by it looks like it is going to take a little more than a lathe to take my grandpa out.

VW