If you and your beloved pet have what it takes to forge a lasting a relationship, maybe it’s time to take the plunge and marry them.
Yes, people are pledging their troth to their pets.
Check it out at: http://www.marryyourpet.com/
And for more about the psychology of preferring a four legged companion over a partner:
http://www.iht.com/articles/2008/07/06/america/pets.php
NOTE: The author entertains no plans to marry Oedipus at this time. Or Electra.
Thanks to everyone for their kind emails, texts and phone calls about Rocket Ships. Based on the volume of notes, a lot more people might have commented, but considered the post too personal and thus stayed on the sidelines. Though their rationale is a bit curious, since this a site available to the entire Internet, I understand. Lurkers are generally the most polite of netizens. Small correction: samhilliard.com might be blocked in parts of Asia; that’s due to the Great Firewall of China rather than a design plan.
Monday begins week two of the post-divorce life and things are going well. Work is quiet. Krav Maga is on hold for a few more days, while I nurse my rib back to one hundred percent. Officially I was back in business two weeks ago, and had resumed training. During some stick disarms on the 21st, I fell on my elbow. Unlike in May, this time the rib is merely bruised. Once I can cough without wincing, I’ll be back in class.
Still in the running at one literary agency. I anticipate an answer shortly after July Fourth. Fiction is a very tough sell these days. Towards that end, I’m considering another project that will lead in a different direction.
On the non-fiction front, I’m in discussions with a woman who has an incredible story about escaping a bloody civil war that killed her entire family. We have tons of details to sort out, but I’m hopeful we can reach a compromise that works for everyone. It’s the sort of book that needs to be written, and I’d be honored to help translate her experiences into a compelling narrative.
Among all the great men, only one could make me feel pride about living in New Jersey–Mr. George Carlin. The comic master taught me a lot more than the seven dirty words; he taught me when to say them, too. Hint: not in front of Mom.
His observations were biting, humorous and painfully true.
” . . . we’re going to ban the toy guns, and keep the F-ing real ones . . . ”
” . . . Next time you civil war buffs reenact the battle of Gettysburg, do us all a favor. Use real ammunition! . . .”
” . . . I would like to be Pope, because they can pick their name. I’d be Pope Corky the 23rd . . . ”
Almost twelve years to the day Susan and I moved in together, the court system legally dissolved our marriage. For the past twenty-two months, we have lived separately. A divorce was the only option. For the record, this is the civil matter I mentioned in the prior entry.
Those who know our story, also know that the earliest connection we shared was Antioch Park. As children we both played there, neither having any idea the other person existed. One of the most salient features about the place was an all metal rocket ship twenty-five feet high, with a massive slide down the middle. Standing beside the behemoth structure was truly awesome to a seven-year old.
It sounds a bit odd now, but our initial meeting went very badly, and almost ended without either of us realizing we had anything in common. Until I mentioned an upcoming trip to Kansas. That off-handed reference led the conversation into Antioch Park, and then the rocket ship; that was when things really started clicking.
Shortly after meeting Susan, I visited my Grandparents. My mission was simple. To bring back a picture of the rocket ship. The only hitch: after walking forty-four acres in six inches of snow, the rocket ship was nowhere to be found. My grandfather and I found a park ranger who explained it had been sold for scrap in the late eighties. Though foiled, I took a lot of other pictures of the park, which made great talking points for a first date.
And the next thing I knew we were living together . . . and now we are divorced.
While a very amicable split, being bound to someone who lives more than an hour and half away, who I once saw daily and now only see when business compels it, has been quite a distraction. To end on a positive note in a clean fashion makes a huge difference.
I want to thank all my friends and family for being supportive, offering help when needed, and advice only when asked. You allowed me to plot the right course by offering me the best navigation tools you could–your faith that I would figure it out eventually. I never felt anything less than full approval from any of you.
The people who had my back: Mom and Dad, My grandparents, Pollster, Justin, Katie, The Men’s Group, Jaysen, Ian, Matt and Michelle, Todd, Jason, Super Duper Cooper, Elena, Bill, Ryan, Jon “call me Spike”.
Each of you brought me closer to who I am, and I am grateful. Thank you.
To Susan: May the one you choose love you back with the same level of intensity you extend them. May you find balance in all things. May you be happy, healthy and wise. May all your dreams come true. Thank you, Susan, for the experiences, the support, and the love. We’ve let each other go, for the right reasons, and at the right time.
You know, when I close my eyes, I can still see the rocket ship. And I understand why it’s no longer in Antioch Park. The kind park ranger had it half-right. The rocket ship disappeared, yes, but only because it took us where we needed to go.
Now it’s flying somewhere else.