Today’s MMS: Bombing Our Way To Peace!

Married Once Before…

For the first time ever, I’m not really sure where to post a blog entry. Does this have to do with my writing and is, therefore, eligible for the Ken La Salle blog?... Yes, but… Does this have to do with Vicky and should, therefore, go on the One Path blog?... Yes, but…

So, with this in mind, welcome to My Side.

Here’s the thing. I’m starting work on my next book, which is a book on the 1970’s. I decided to use this opportunity to clean out my steamer trunk, which I packed full of goodies until sometime around 1990. I thought this trunk would be full of things from my childhood…

Then, I found it was mostly full of stuff from high school, which means I may have to write a book about the 80’s at some point.

I also found it was full of stuff from she who must remain nameless, from my first wedding, from my first marriage. Crap. I thought I’d gotten rid of that stuff years ago.

But no.

And I was faced with a definite quandary.

One thing you may not know about me is that I have picked up the fragments of my life so many times it gets annoying. Hell, most people these days think I fell to the Earth sometime in 2004. After picking up the fragments of my life so many times… I’m kind of tired of it. I’m tired of not having a history, of not knowing people from before 1995 or so, of that lack of continuity that comes from constantly restarting my life.

I was thinking about this when I looked down at all this stuff from my past life, from my past marriage. My wedding album. A photo album from when the girl and I were first together. Random photographs.

I didn’t want to lose all of that again. Hell, I lost it once already.

So, as strange as it might sound, I decided to preserve it. I decided that as I was throwing things away – and, believe me, I threw away a LOT – there would be some photos that remained. Some that wouldn’t be gone forever. There would be some continuity.

Yes, I’m married to Vicky now and I love her very much. But I’m a little tired of denying who I was prior to 2004. I’m tired of playing up my first wife as a fluke, as a tragic mistake.

We loved each other. I have pictures to prove it. Yes, it ended tragically, but that doesn’t mean that’s all it was. There was more to it than that. And I’ve decided to remember that. That’s the least I can do.

Perhaps I’ll post a few of those pictures in the coming days.

Maybe it’s time I go public with some of the history I’ve been so quick to write about but so reticent to share.

History shouldn’t be forgotten. And that doesn’t make me a bad husband to Vicky.

It just makes me honest.

5 Brief Minutes on HEAD...

Bookends

About ten years ago, I made a decision that dramatically altered the course of my life. Had I not left Rosa, today would be very different. I might be with her. I might have a child with her. I might be without her for very different reasons.

I lost Rosa in March of 2000 and three years later I tried to undo what I had done, but that was not possible. I call this “Bookends” because I began this blog shortly after the events of March 2003, as a way of coping with life without Rosa and this seems to be the perfect place to express what I’m feeling ten years after losing her. Those who read this blog have probably – undeniably – noticed my frequency tapering off. It may not always be so but, certainly for now at least, real life seems to possess far more of my time than blogging will allow.

Still, this seemed important to address.

Let me begin by saying that I’ve been incredibly lucky in the last ten years. I’ve enjoyed success. I’ve traveled. I found a lovely woman who I love very much. If not for Vicky, I doubt I’d be the person I am today. Having her in my life helped restore much of what I lost when I lost Rosa and I am grateful for that.

So, on to Rosa…

So many people have expressed the thought over the years that I must have somehow gotten over Rosa, as if it’s all so clear and easily worked out. Let me tell you. It’s messier than that by far. Hardly a day goes by without a thought of Rosa – what she’s doing, how she is, how things might have turned out better. We promised we’d remain friends and, let me tell you, were we wrong!

Finding Vicky did not fill the hole Rosa left. It just helped make life a bit more bearable. The Rosa-shaped hole is still there in my heart; I’ve just become adept at ignoring it. Sometimes, I wish she were in my life but then I consider what that would entail and what complications it would include and I shake my head and wish her well and resign myself to the reality of history. She will always be gone, for better or for worse.

Rosa said my love was like a freight train and Vicky has said that’s fine by her. Vicky appreciates it and that’s a relief after all the times Rosa rejected it. Vicky’s not perfect by any stretch and I don’t want to suggest that, but she loves me and I know it. She’s no Rosa but Rosa’s no Vicky, either. One doesn’t have to be better than the other.

For 15 years, I was lucky enough to have Rosa in my life. I hope I’m lucky enough to get 15 with Vicky, or 16, or 20, or 30… I’ll take as many as I can get.

If this somehow finds its way to Rosa, I would just want her to know that nothing absolves me from the guilt of what I did any more than absolution is yours. We were both horribly wrong and will never regain what we lost. My only hope is that you end up as lucky as I have.

On my first entry, I said that there was much to tell and that would tell it. I hope I’ve done so to your satisfaction. Now, much remains to be lived and I will live it. When I think of it, I’ll try to write now and again.

Our first first dance...

It's All Vicky on the blogs but what better time? It's our anniversary, one of my favorite days of the year.

I thought I'd bring it on over to My Side, where things tend to get a bit more cynical, and share something with you that you might not know. I want to talk about dancing. Don't be afraid.

You've probably heard me mention how much I hate dancing but there's a paradox there, because dancing also happens to be very important to me. Seriously. See, I normally feel like such an idiot dancing that I have a hard time dancing with anyone who makes me feel MORE like an idiot. Trust me, I ran into this with more than a few dates.

Now, Vicky and I had rehearsed our wedding dance over and over until we had it down. We had it down so well... it didn't really feel like a dance any more! It felt more like a performance, to me. It was like losing our first dance and gaining our first performance!

But I still wanted that moment - that perfect moment where the stars aligned and everything felt right and we danced together, losing ourselves in each other's arms. I wanted to feel as far from being an idiot as possible... and, for me, that's rare. But every moment of our wedding was choreographed, timed, segmented, and set. It didn't look as though there'd be any time for perfect moments, not the kind I wanted.

So, we were wed. We were rushed upstairs for our "moment alone", which turned out to be just a moment. Then, pictures began. We were hurried up to the gazebo, the photographer got into place... and no one else was where the were supposed to be. We were asked to wait a minute... just relax...

I don't remember the song. I wish I did. But some jazz was playing and everyone's attention was on the wedding and off of the wedded. I asked Vicky if she'd like to dance and she stepped into my arms and it was as if we were the only people in the world. The stars aligned and everything felt right. It was perfect.

That will always remain, for me, our first dance.

Dr. Ken and The Women…

(Sometimes you have to go for the obvious, Family Guy joke…)

In case I lose it, the point of this email is what a fantastic woman I married.

… Vicky. I’m talking about Vicky.

There’s been a bit of a shakeup down Ken way, a shake up of friends and maybe not friends. It started with Cindy, who has a lot of practice ending our friendship. Well, this time she “needed time” because Vicky made a joke. I understand that some people lack all of their senses, including their sense of humor, but I’m puzzled when that’s supposed to justify ending a friendship. If it was that frail, I guess I’m better off.

Then, in came Teresa. Teresa, love of my 17th year, regret of my life. She forgives me for the rotten way I treated her and has a good, happy life, which makes me happy. We email occasionally. It’s nice.

This, this week, I was spotted on a social networking site by three of my ex-sisters-in-law. After Rosa, I was sure she’d convinced her entire family to hate the ground I strode on but it turns out that wasn’t true at all. It also turns out that I wasn’t the only one punished by the divorce and Rosa seems to still be paying. It makes me sadder than words can express to know that her life is sad. I wish there was something I could do to help but there simply isn’t. It has nothing to do with Vicky, either. The face is, there’s nothing I can do. But it’s nice hearing from the ex-S.I.Ls and it’s fun starting fresh.

One of my worst mistakes back when I was with Rosa was in not holding the proper people accountable when they gave me the shaft. I’m talking about her parents, mostly. I made the mistake of taking it out on everyone, which was wrong and cost me a lot.

So, here I am, a married man talking with, at least, four women outside of my wife. (Can you imagine them all inside?) I am positive there is someone out there thinking, “If I was Vicky, I would tar his hide,” or something like that. Maybe it’s “She shouldn’t trust him, given his past,” or “He should be investing that energy on his wife.”

Here’s the thing. I’m tempted to agree. Listen, I know I don’t have the most sparkling history but keep in mind that Rosa was the one who pushed me into another’s arms through years of neglect and outright telling me to. And maybe it’s okay to have female correspondents. The thing is I think Vicky and I both know who I better never talk to if I like my balls attached and that’s Rosa.

Which brings me to another point, my ex-S.I.Ls had asked if Rosa and I still speak. They’ve implied that maybe we should. But I have been very clear. If I ever spoke with Rosa, Vicky would kill me slow. After all, Rosa was the one who broke me, stole from me, cheated me, and ruined my life. It’s not out of jealousy that Vicky is so demanding; it’s just the smart thing to do!

Which got more interesting when I heard that Teresa was coming into town.

Which brings me to my point. Here I am, talking to these other women, and Vicky is okay with it. She trusts me. She knows that my motives have less to do with them than others might think. Maybe she also knows that I want to screw every 3rd woman I see anyway; talking to these won’t change that. (And before you complain, most men want to screw every 4th woman they see. I just haven’t made it out of puberty, yet.)

I can’t tell you why Vicky is so understanding except to say she gets me. I’m not the kind of person to turn away friendship, even when it’s as superficial as online blabbing. But I know what other people would say, how they would respond, which shows me how cool Vicky is and makes me love her all that much more.

… and she scares me, too. There’s that.

Teresa…

Summer. 1983.

My first love.

I broke up with her in the most horrible, petty way – over the phone – over another girl – I was a louse.

25 years later.

I reconnected with Teresa through a miracle called the Internet and the first thing I did was apologize. I didn’t do it for her benefit. I did it for my own. I did it because I hurt myself with that act. I degraded myself and behaved as less than a man.

Now, we’re corresponding – and I can hear you out there. I can hear what you’re saying. “Ken! Sherryl and Cindy and now Teresa! How does Vicky handle you talking with all these ex-girlfriends of yours?”

I want to address this but let’s move Sherryl over to one side because she and I talk once a month; we’re more acquaintances than friends. Cindy and I are friends but Vicky’s met Cindy and knows there’s no threat there.

Now, Teresa. My first love. A girl I haven’t forgotten for 25 years. How can Vicky deal with my corresponding with her? Well, first of all, Vicky trusts me.

But enough about her. You’re wondering what I feel – I know I am. I was sitting on the sofa just now and that very thought fluttered by the landscaping of my mind. What do I feel?

First, I’m amazed. Life is so ripe with hope. It’s all around us. I mean, right here was someone I wronged, who has forgiven me, and is opening a friendship. It’s really amazing.

But who is this person? Is it Teresa? She sent me a picture of the girl I knew back in 1983 – almost like she was holding her hostage in a way, this other person who holds her name now in the present. I looked at that picture and felt pierced. Here was the face that I had etched into my brain as Teresa. That was her! Who was this person who sent me the picture?

Yes, who was this person? That’s the thing, really. She’s not the Teresa I knew. I’m not the Ken she knew. The most interesting thing about all this is that we both are total strangers, connected by a similar past. We may get to know one another and we may find each other completely wonderful – or completely annoying. The Teresa I knew exists only in my memory and I am thankful for that. This new Teresa may be my friend. I hope so.

Signs of hope in humanity don’t saunter by every day. I like to enjoy every single one.