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Hand Squeeze

Date: April 2, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman
“The spaces between my fingers are right where yours fit perfectly.” (Owl City, Vanilla Twilight)
I remember my papa’s hands; the tan, weathered hands of a rancher. His hands held mine, steadied one side of the steering wheel to keep us on the road as he “let me drive” the dirt roads to the farm long before I was 16. His hands lifted hay bales, fed baby sheep bottles, lifted me onto his horse, Old Yeller, so I could have a ride, and scooped water from the trough for us to drink out of the old tin cup in the water shed. How I loved my Papa and his hands.
My nana’s hands made her famous chocolate cake, brownies, sausage, creamed beans, mashed potatoes and gravy and every other edible delight (she was known for her good cooking.) They taught me to embroider, they ironed the red velvet dress of the doll she bought for me and the other granddaughters to play with at her house, they played pat-a-cake with my babies and children, they knitted me a beautiful afghan. One of my most poignant memories of Nana and her hands is that of her standing by Papa’s casket, her hand on his folded hands, and never letting go of those hands she’d held for close to 60 years’s she greeted the town who had come to pay their respects and honor a good man who had lived an exemplary life.
I have similar feelings and memories about my dad’s hands and my mom’s hands, though gnarled and twisted my mom’s arthritic hands became in the year’s before her death. I can’t believe it has been almost 26 years since I’ve seen or felt my dad’s hands; almost six year’s since I’ve held my mom’s. How I love and miss those hands.

 

I remember noticing my husband’s hands the moment I met him.  (That should have been a clue to me that something was up—I’ve never been a “hands” person or noticed hands, I guess there was something different about him!) My husband’s hands are good and kind hands. Hands that feel so right when they hold mine. Hands that squeeze mine during songs, movies or conversations, every time, in just the “right” and most romantic, places. (I must be a joy to be romantically involved with. Not! I’m so clueless; all of the time, it seems. For the longest time in our relationship when he squeezed my hand I’d think it was a mistake; a twitch or a reflex, but never on purpose! However, I’ve finally gotten that it’s intentional Romantic, even.)

When I think about my husband’s hands, I remember my youngest walking up to him the first time he spent any time with him at all, and how he put his tiny hand right into my husband’s hand and didn’t let go the entire day. I think of my husband’s hands working to provide for our family; tirelessly serving all eight children (even the grown, adult ones and their children); doing dishes; unloading the dishwasher; sweeping the floor; helping with homework; playing ball with the kids; doing yard work (despite the fact he’d joyfully retired from it and bought a condo prior to our marriage); planting a garden with my younger children every year; cooking Japanese food for our family; cooking breakfast every morning before work; playing the piano; opening doors for me and so many other things. I think of his hands wearing a wedding ring (my dad didn’t wear a wedding ring, and I’ve never been married to a man who wore a wedding ring, so it’s a new thing for me—but I like it!) And I’ll never forget my husband’s hand, clasping mine, on the day we married.

I guess I’m a hand person after all.

“Miss Morstan and I stood together, and her hand was in mine. A wondrous subtle thing is love, for here were we two, who had never seen each other until that day, between whom no word or even look of affection had ever passed, and yet now in an hour of trouble our hands instinctively sought for each other. I have marveled at it since, but at the time it seemed the most natural thing that I would go out to her so, and, as she has often told me, there was in her also the instinct to turn to me for comfort and protection. So we stood hand in hand like two children, and there was peace in our hearts for all the dark things that surrounded us.” (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, “Sherlock Holmes: The Complete Novels and Stories, Volume 1″)

Unexpected Wife

Date: April 1, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

This is not a joke or a test of the emergency broadcast system. For anyone who logged on today for a word from me, my apologies. I thought I’d switch things up in honor of April 1st, April Fools and to accommodate the requests from readers who have asked for a formal introduction to my husband. I figured after six months of dating, a 10 month engagement, one year of marriage and everything else…it’s about time! This is no April Fool’s joke. Ladies and gentlemen, here he is: Mr. Mike Ramsey. (Formerly known as #5.)

“Do you ever hear a song that immediately transports you back to another time in your life?  Not to just a small memory of the first time you heard it, but it literally takes you to where you would swear you were, in that place and in that time?  It happened to me a few months ago.

I can’t remember the song (and that’s a good thing) but it took me back to the first few months after my separation. When I was living in the basement of my best friend’s home.  The song reminded me of waking up that first morning, on a mattress on the floor, and looking up at the unfinished ceiling thinking, ‘This nightmare was not a dream.’ Once again I felt that sinking feeling in my chest that my whole world had fallen apart and was never going to be the same.  What a horrible feeling!  (Now you know why I don’t want to remember the song.)

Thankfully, these days I’m singing a different tune.

You’ve read how Andrea and I met—the whole Spaghetti Factory thing—after we found each other on the internet. I am so thankful we did! You’ve read of the awful things that she and the kids had gone through: after she told me her father’s unexpected death when she was a teen and about the Ponzi scheme that led to her divorce, I asked her why she wasn’t on medication! (Ha!) What you may not know is how genuine Andrea really is. And that the way she comes across on the blog is the way she really is in life: an amazing, down-to-earth woman who knows who she is. Each day she tries her best to reach her God-given potential. I love her for that, and for many other things. One of my best friends summed it up so succinctly when she said, “Andrea is good for you, Mike!” I agree.

I’m sure in five years, although there may not be one song in particular I remember from our dating time (she kept me too busy dancing to too many tunes to have just one memory!) I know that every time I hear a song from our dating I will be whisked back to those great memories and feelings and remember what a lucky fellow I am.

Yes, when you are Bachelor #5 you definitely need someone “good” for you.  And I got the best there is. My “unexpected wife.”

Spontaneous “Date”

Date: March 23, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I like Vegas for its spontaneity.” (Tony Curtis)

Due to the new developments at our Utah home, I went alone to my Las Vegas business trip. As part of the trip, my company was having an event in conjunction with “The Donny and Marie Show” at the Flamingo hotel. I was there in an official capacity, coordinating everything (including a photo of my corporate group with a photo company), working with Donny and making sure the meet and greet between Donny Osmond and the distributors of my company went smoothly. Afterward, everyone got to see their show. (Which, by the way, is fabulous. I recommend everyone see it! And Donny didn’t even ask me to say that.)

While waiting for the show, I was seated at the table of my assigned ticket. My co-worker on the project had been seated beside me but he left for a few minutes and another man sat down across from me. He introduced himself, I introduced myself and we chatted for a moment before a cocktail waitress appeared and asked if we wanted drinks. I ordered a bottle of water and reached for my wallet when my new friend said, “It’s ok, it’s on me.” I thanked him but said I would get my water. He insisted, “No, it’s on me, I’ve got it” and he paid for my drink and his. (Very nice, I guess, just very unexpected. I’m sure the man was just being friendly and nice but I confess, I did look down to make sure I had my wedding ring on and that it looked like a wedding ring; I also mentioned my husband a few times during the conversation.)

While waiting for the show to begin and now the drinks to arrive, a photographer approached and asked if he could take our picture. I didn’t know what to say. I’m a corporate employee of my company, my new friend was a distributor and I didn’t want to offend anyone. I’m also married and was wearing a wedding ring, but I didn’t want to offend a corporate distributor by making a big deal about that—so I didn’t answer. My new friend took over the conversation and said, “Sure.” (Maybe he didn’t want to offend anyone, either.)

The photographer directed him to move around and sit by me for the photo, which he did. Then he kept directing him to sit closer to me, to put his arm around me, for me to lean in to him, for me to put my hand on his chest, the photographer snapping photos with each new adjustment and before I knew it, I felt like we had a full-on engagement portrait session going!

Awkward!

Oh well, I reasoned, I just won’t purchase the pictures after the show. I wasn’t going to make a big deal about a very crazy, unexpected experience and a photographer’s mistaken impression. At the last minute before the show started, I was called away to take care of some work business and I returned just before the show started–long enough for my co-worker to hand me the bottle of water my new friend had purchased and to direct me to a seat on the front row of the show! What an unexpected surprise! (My thanks to Donny’s manager and my co-worker for working that out for me as a special treat.) I did as I was directed and didn’t even have the chance to thank my friend for the water.

After the show (which, by the way, in addition to being wonderful was so amazing that, according to Donny’s manager, I had a goofy grin on my face through the whole thing–he joked that these day, he watches the people, like me, rather than the actual show! haha), I walked out and paid the photo company who had taken the group photos for my company as an employee of the photographer came up, handed me a bag and said, “Here are your pictures with our compliments.”

I was a little surprised; I’d thought the photographer was simply going to provide me with a disk of the group photos he took but I thought, “Oh, that was nice of him to go the extra mile and print a group photo so I’d have a preview of what’s on the disk” and continued on my way. While riding in a cab back to my hotel I reached into the sack and pulled out the photos to take a look. Except that as I reached my hand into the sack for the flimsy photo I was expecting, instead, my hand grasped a leather portfolio folder!

I thought, “Wow, they REALLY went the extra mile for these group photos,” opened the binder and saw, instead of the group photo I was expecting, a lovely assortment of romantic poses and pictures with, apparently, my new boyfriend! Bound nicely in a leather portfolio! Official documentation of what I’d accidentally and unknowingly been up to in Las Vegas!

I busted up laughing at the crazy and unexpected gift, wondering how I end up in these crazy types of experiences, just as my phone rang. I answered it. Wouldn’t you know, it was my husband! Calling to see how things were going at the show and in Las Vegas! All I could answer was that things were going a little too well! LOL.

“…Vegas…It was quite an experience.” (Davy Jones)

Totally.

The Real Truth

Date: March 12, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Never go to bed mad.  Stay up and fight.” (Phyllis Diller, Phyllis Diller’s Housekeeping Hints, 1966)

In my mid-20s, I decided to learn to play the harp. I’d already learned to play the violin, piano and guitar during my childhood so I thought the harp would be a piece of cake. I had some extra time on my hands (it was before I became a mother) so I rented a harp, found a teacher and began lessons. Sadly, I only lasted one or two months before I returned the harp and abandoned my desire. I found two things difficult about that quest: 1) that my teacher treated me like a child, marching me to a trash can to deposit my chewing gum prior to the lessons, and 2) it was REALLY hard to be so inept at something as “old” as I was and to discipline myself to start at the beginning of learning something new. (Call me lazy.)

Enter remarriage. Sometimes it reminds me of harp lessons. It can be an adjustment to learn so many new things this “old!” (Mid-40s for me; my husband is 50.) I’m struck by this thought occasionally, particularly when I learn something new about marriage or relationships. I confess I went into marriage thinking I’d been happily married for 20 years, that I knew how to “do” marriage and was pretty decent at it. I must not have anticipated learning new things with my second marriage, I was just looking forward to marrying the man I loved and building a life with him.

Instead, I’ve been shocked at how much I have learned in one short year. I admit not every lesson has been welcome or easy, particularly my biggest one: that participants in strong relationships and happy marriages don’t always see eye to eye or have the same opinion…and that’s ok; it’s ok to agree to disagree on an issue; a difference of opinion doesn’t always mean it’s a fight; conflict (and the resolution of conflict) is acceptable, and even normal, in marriage; and several other realizations along those same lines. I can’t believe I was married for 20 years and never got that.

I saw my friends, family members and other people in healthy relationships and good marriages experience and resolve conflict over and over again. But for some reason, it never gave me pause to wonder why I wasn’t dealing with the same things. The man I was married to would occasionally remark, “Isn’t it great that we don’t have those problems like other couples?” and act like our marriage was better, our relationship was stronger, or that we were more compatible than other couples because of that.

But on this side of it, I see he was WRONG about that and many other things, including his choices to lie, steal, commit fraud and perpetrate a Ponzi scheme for 16 years. I see that his crimes and his lies affected not just his professional life and the lives of his investors, but like an octopus, its nasty and dangerous tentacles infiltrated and wrapped themselves around every aspect of his life, mine and our family, including my marriage as well. That was eye opening. And not very pleasant to discover.

And I never realized it until I remarried, an honest man this time.

During our first year of marriage, we worked through a few differences of opinion. If you asked my husband about them, that’s all that he’d say they were. But each time one arose, I panicked. A part of me felt it had to mean something bad to even experience a difference of opinion. I was so afraid to face conflict, I’d keep quiet and let it fester inside me until I couldn’t take it any more–or until my husband would ask me what was wrong–and then it would finally unleash. And always, not only did I fear conflict thinking it would be the beginning of the end of my new marriage and our relationship, it was always accompanied by that darn throwing up reaction I’ve experienced since beginning my unexpected life.

It shocked me to realize my first marriage didn’t have a lot of differences of opinion I’m sure, not because our marriage was better than any other marriage and not because we were more compatible than other couples, but because one of us wasn’t being honest. After all, how can you have any conflict when one partner is probably just saying what they think the other one wants to hear to keep peace in the marriage and the home? (He had to have done that, I don’t believe you can run a Ponzi scheme AND deal with conflict outside of that, a Ponzi scheme has to be way too much work on its own. Sadly, I now suspect many aspects of my then-marriage were perhaps not as “real” as normal marriages; were not as “perfect” as I thought.)

But I never saw that. I never knew it. I guess the Ponzi scheme wasn’t the only thing I missed during my first marriage.

It has been somewhat difficult to master second marriage moment #31. But I’d say it’s about time I learned it, wouldn’t you? My thanks to my honest, patient and loving husband who has helped me come to the realizations I have finally come to, about differences of opinion in marriage; and who helps me dare to trust a man and a husband time and again, in every way possible.

So here’s the real truth about marriage that everyone but me has probably always known and lived, my knowledge acquired courtesy of my remarriage: conflict IS ok. My husband tells me differences of opinion are healthy and I now believe him. It’s normal for two people, who have lived two different lives and come from two different worlds, to have a few different ideas about things. The issues aren’t that important, it’s the hanging in there and working through them together that is. After all, ”A happy marriage is the union of two good forgivers.” (Ruth Bell Graham)

Boys—And The Occasional Lapse In Common Sense

Date: February 13, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Everybody gets so much information all day long that they lose their common sense.” (Gertrude Stein)

And if raising sons has taught me anything at all that the rowdy twin brothers I was raised with failed to do, it’s this: boys not only think very differently than girls (in my experience), they occasionally have a lapse in common sense!

My oldest child was an energetic child. His antics led me to many unexpected experiences—like the time I took him to a McDonald’s play land and while he was in a tunnel, I watched children stream from every colorful plastic opening, running and screaming in terror in the race back to the safety of their mothers’s arms. I watched mothers attempt to comfort their crying children as they complained of a “beast” in the tunnel, and before I knew what was happening, out came my son: growling, hissing, clawing the air with his hands, roaring for all he was worth and looking as fierce as a 3 or four-year-old possibly can. Followed shortly afterward by all mothers’ eyes upon me in condemnation for raising such a child who would behave in such a way. I was mortified! It was a long time before I dared let him venture back to a play land. (Probably a healthier choice for him anyway.)

But I realized a few months ago, when confronting the behavior of my second son, that for all my oldest son’s energy, creativity and questionable boyhood antics that led to a few broken bones and several surgeries over the course of his life, he still made it through high school graduation without a single visit to the principal’s office.

Wish I could say the same about his younger brothers!

Shortly around the time my youngest ditched kindergarten a few months ago (which resulted into a trip to the principal’s office) I got a call from my middle son. He called from school, crying so hard he could hardly speak, and all I could understand was, “I’ve made a terrible mistake, I’m so sorry!” over and over again.

You know, it’s interesting. Having lived through some of the lovely adventures that have been mine in the course of my life, particularly since my first husband dropped the Ponzi scheme bomb that destroyed my world and others in 2009 and revealed the double life he had been leading and the crimes he had committed, I have some crazy “automatic” responses. When I got the call I was mentally thrust into a different time, and instead of reacting like a normal mother (I assume normal mothers worry about…what? Missing the bus, or a missing homework assignment?) my mind immediately races to thoughts of big lies, cheating, stealing, serious betrayal and behavior worthy of prison time. I think, “Oh no! It has finally happened! I knew this was coming, that THIS is how the trauma my children lived through is going to manifest itself.” It’s a crazy split second or two until I calm my psyche and ask, “What happened?” never letting on that my mind has already imagined the worst.

Turns out, my middle son had gotten in a fight at school on the playground! I guess the bright side of it was that he had chosen to confront a boy well-known for bullying students and who had been in several fights at school already (if school yard gossip can be relied upon at all), and after my son had turned to adults at the school for help and the situation didn’t change, my son took matters into his own hands and decided to take a stand. I was shocked at how intentional the decision was: the boys had scheduled their “fight” via Facebook! And both showed up at the appointed place and time, the next day, to follow through.

Needless to say, my middle son sent his last Facebook message that day. When I got home from work, I told him to write his last internet communication—a Facebook message apology to the boy—to send it and then suspend his account, and to prepare to go to the boys’ home and also apologize in person. I ended the conversation with something about how disappointed I was by his choices and how poorly his actions reflected not just upon himself, but upon our family and the type of mother people will assume he has because of his behavior! (My husband let me handle it, but had his own questions: like, did my son get any good punches in before school officials broke up the fight? Men! Boys!)

Both boys apologized, shook hands and agreed to go to school the next day and let everyone know they had worked things out. Make that TWO visits to the principal’s office for this son (he called 9-1-1 from an old cell phone of his dad’s that “didn’t work” while out on the school playground with his friends in Colorado, trip #1, followed by a visit from the sheriff who responded to the call; and enjoyed excursion #2 six years later because he got into a boxing match with a bully in Utah) but all’s well that ends well, right? As long as a good lesson was learned!

“To me, boxing is like a ballet, except there’s no music, no choreography, and the dancers hit each other.” (Jack Handy)

Snakes, snails, puppy dog tails, Facebook fights, boxing matches, visits to the principal’s office and occasional lapses in common sense aside, I love my boys and the opportunity that is mine to be their mother. My greatest effort and work will be, I hope, in raising my boys to become amazing men—upstanding citizens, good husbands and wonderful fathers.

Despite, or perhaps because of, the unexpected life…and their occasional lapses in common sense!

The Blunders I Make

Date: February 2, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I’m more financially successful, but it just means the shopping blunders I make are bigger now.” (Cathy Guisewite)

I’m not more, or even successful at all, financially, now—in my unexpected life.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not capable of a shopping blunder on the rare occasions I venture into the retail arena, I proved that on my husband’s 50th birthday cruise. You can count the number of times since 2009 I’ve “gone shopping” on less than 10 fingers. (Why shop, or even “look” or window shop, why tempt yourself to spend money you don’t have, when you have no money?)

It happened after the candy store incident. (The moment in a store my husband accidentally called me by his ex-wife’s name. Poor guy! He’s only done that once but he’ll probably never live it down, especially since I’ve immortalized it in this blog:)

We were strolling along the sidewalk of a quaint eastern town when I glanced in a window of a store that looked like it sold all kinds of fun, unique, interesting, vintage, boutique-style items. I announced to the group, “I’m going in here. Does anyone want to come?” Everyone kept walking so I told my husband to tell the group to go ahead, I’d catch up, I just wanted to look in the store for a minute, and I headed inside.

To my surprise, my husband followed me. I thought, “Ah, new love! I’ve forgotten that the newlywed phase of marriage is so nice! How wonderful it is that my husband will follow me into a store simply for the sake of spending time with me. How nice of him. How patient.”

A few moments later, his brother joined us. I thought, “Wow. What nice men in this family—to follow their wife, or their sister-in-law, into a store so they won’t be alone. How chivalrous.”

I started to look around at the merchandise for sale and then suddenly it hit me. Just WHAT kind of store had I ventured into? Lets just say the items for sale were…inappropriate. Of a…suggestive nature. And the theme underlying everything appeared to be nudity and…private parts. OOPS.

“Oh my goodness!” I exclaimed. “What kind of store is this? This is NOT what I thought I was going to find in here!”

My husband laughed. “I wondered what you were doing shopping in a place like this,” he said. His brother agreed. “Yes, I didn’t expect you to shop in a place like this, but I was even more surprised that you announced to everyone where you were heading, so I had to come and see this for myself.”

Leave it to me to unknowingly stumble upon a store like that and to unwittingly go inside to shop. Only I would do something like that—and announce it to my mother-in-law, her sister, friends and other relatives, some of whom I was meeting for the first time! I quickly made my exit and caught up to the group. There were many an eyebrow raised in my direction, lets put it that way!

I’d finish this tale by saying, “Andrea Merriman does it again.” Only it’s Andrea Ramsey now. But apparently, I’m still blundering. You know what they say: ”A blunder at the right moment is better than cleverness at the wrong time.” (Carolyn Wells)

I guess.

Unexpected “Brotherhood”

Date: January 30, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

A few moments after our meeting, my husband’s old friend (now my new friend) caught me alone and quietly said, “I’m sure you could tell from my reaction that I know who you are.”

Yes, I’d noticed.

He then went on to express his sympathy for all that I had been through. He told me the day he’d heard about my former husband’s Ponzi scheme, his heart had broken for me and my children and that he knew many people who experienced those same feelings of sorrow on our behalf. He took the time to ask about me, how my children are doing and couldn’t have been nicer. Unexpectedly, in the course of that conversation, something in me began to change.

I realized I wasn’t worried, or ashamed, of anything I’ve lived through any more. I don’t think I’ll be hesitant to meet anyone ever again, regardless of the name they associate with me.

A few minutes later, his wife approached and said something so unexpected it changed my world. She, also, was very nice and told me we had something in common. For the life of me, I had no idea what that could possibly be! Then SHE dropped a bomb, sharing something very unexpected that we had in common and I was absolutely stunned! I was caught so off-guard all I could think to do was joke, “WHERE have you been? WHERE were you two years ago? I SO could have used a friend like you in 2009!”

Better late than never, I guess. And for some reason, meeting a good woman who lived through something similar to me, who shared her experience with me however briefly, helped the last few scales of shame (or whatever it is I’ve felt but didn’t realize I was still carrying with me) fall from my eyes. It’s totally gone. I don’t think I’ll want to hide my head, ever again, to have anyone know I’m the former Andrea Merriman.

I don’t think I’ll be cringing any longer when my husband introduces me to people; I won’t be afraid of what they’ll think of me—or him, for choosing to marry someone with past experiences like mine.

After all, “…let us never forget that mankind constitutes one great brotherhood; all born to encounter suffering and sorrow, and therefore bound to sympathize with each other.” (Albert Pike)

And to think: if it weren’t for karaoke, I wouldn’t have met my new friends, my new “brotherhood,” born of adversity and facilitated by empathy. Additional proof that life is unexpected and…amazing. Every encounter an opportunity to bless the life of another.

Spooky

Date: January 24, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I knew what my job was; it was to go out and meet the people and love them.” (Princess Diana)

I finished my Madonna representation and was anxious to change out of the costume and hide. But I had one more hurdle to clear. The cast had to go to the ship’s main lobby, greet family, friends, “fans,” and pose for a group photo.

I wanted to do all of the above almost as much as I’d wanted to sing a solo of “Like A Virgin” in front of hundreds of people and wear the costume I’d been provided with—but I did it anyway, comforting myself that at least I wouldn’t know anyone and hopefully, that what happened on a Carnival cruise ship stayed on a Carnival cruise ship!

After the group photo, a man approached. Turns out, he’d been an old friend of my husband’s parents and their family in Winslow, Arizona, and hadn’t seen my husband in approximately 30 years! Their reunion was joyful. As I watched and listened to the conversation, I realized the man had also been a leader in the L.D.S. church when my husband was called on his mission to Japan—and there I stood dressed like Madonna! I took that as my cue to leave, and quick!

I turned to make my escape just as my husband said, “And let me introduce you to my wife!” I wanted to die, but instead, got to make a new acquaintance while wearing a black bustier. Not exactly what I’d expected. I sort of felt like a deer caught in headlights. But it got much, much worse when my new acquaintance revealed he now lives in the Denver-metro area. My husband replied, “Oh! My wife is from Denver!” The man turned to me and asked, “Really? What was your name?”

Have you ever seen television shows where everything comes to a screeching halt and all of the characters “freeze?” That’s how I feel, still, when people ask the question, “What’s your name?” I know, instantly, they’re going to recognize my name and it’s 2009, to some degree, all over again. (To those who think I can’t fully escape my past, try as I might…sometimes it feels like you’re right!) I felt like I stood there, mouth open, as my mind raced to solve the problem of how to answer that question but before I could give a response that did not include the name “Merriman,” my husband introduced me: Andrea Merriman. (He is such a nonjudgmental, kind man, but as much as he thinks he understands what I lived through as the wife of a Ponzi schemer clueless about her husband’s crimes until their 2009 revelation, I just don’t think he gets it; and it’s moments like that that reinforce that suspicion in me.)

It was the man’s turn to look like a deer caught in headlights. I’d known he would. I’d just been hoping to avoid it. A part of me wanted to die, inside. The good news, is that those moments are becoming fewer and further between. The bad news is that they still happen. The conversation resumed and I tried to remove myself from it as unobtrusively as possible.

I’d outdone myself that evening: inappropriate clothing, inappropriate lyrics, a forgettable solo in front of hundreds of strangers…courtesy of Andrea Merriman!

“When a relationship dies, do we ever really give up the ghost or are we forever haunted by the spirits of relationships past?” (Sarah Jessica Parker as Carrie Bradshaw, “Sex In The City”)

 

(Karaoke) Rock Star

Date: January 18, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Alas for those that never sing, But die with all their music in them!” (Oliver Wendell Holmes)

Thanks to my first cruise with my new husband, that’s not going to be a problem.

We ventured into the karaoke lounge another time and believe it or not, I attempted karaoke again. Still not sure what I was thinking…especially because I ended up on stage again. No solo, just “Summer Lovin’” from “Grease;” a duet with my husband! At some point in my childhood, I confess, I think I dreamed of being Sandy and having a Danny. Who says dreams can’t come true? Little did I realize it would take the unexpected life and a new husband to literally, make them reality. Lol.

However, the highlight of that evening came when a large group of Japanese tourists joined us in the lounge. And my husband surprised the crowd by singing “Feelings” in Japanese. (He majored in Japanese in college, and lived and worked in Japan for several years; he’s pretty fluent. Fluent enough, even, to sing!) You should have seen the women scream, clap, rise up from their chairs and dance around! One lovely woman even did a “fan dance” as he sang—I guess making sure he didn’t get too overheated from his performance or all of the swooning, I’m not sure which!

Karaoke rock star. Is there such a thing? If there is, I’m pretty sure I’m married to him.

“I won’t be a rock star. I will be a legend.” (Freddie Mercury)

The Power Of A T-Shirt

Date: December 15, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“It’s great to just disappear, grab a suitcase, switch the answering machine on and just go somewhere else.” (Dido Armstrong)

We made the most of our cruise, our time alone together and even our packing.

Prior to our departure, as we were packing for the trip I saw my husband add his BYU t-shirt to the pile of things he was planning to cruise with. I thought it was odd (in my prior cruise experience, we had packed evening wear, tuxedos, jewelry and business casual clothing to wear during the day; t-shirts had been for exercising—but I had a sneaking suspicion in this new life that wasn’t what they were going along for!) but I didn’t say anything. Finally, I couldn’t help myself.

“A BYU t-shirt, huh?” I commented. “Don’t we want to dress nicer than that?”

“I always make sure I take a BYU shirt on cruises,” my husband replied. “You’d be amazed at the people you meet and the conversations you have because you’re wearing one.”

I didn’t really believe that, but one thing remarriage to a man who is now 50 has taught me: he has his own mind, his own way of doing things and it has all worked very well for him for the almost five decades prior to meeting me so what can I say? Absolutely nothing. He is a tidy, helpful, very sufficient man who knows how to cook, clean and do laundry better than I do and he always looks nice…so I decided to trust him on that one. We didn’t discuss his packing choice any further.

A few days later, on the cruise, he put on his BYU t-shirt. I looked at him but was determined to not say anything—or request a shirt with a collar. He winked at me and acknowledged his wardrobe choice for the day by reminding me, “You never know who you’ll meet because you’re wearing a BYU shirt!” and we headed out to tour the city of Boston.

Believe it or not, before we got to the heart of the city of Boston, my oldest called me from college to share a Ponzi scheme-related experience he’d had with relatives of a victim (Yes, 2 1/2 years later we still confront those types of things several times each year) and I confess, as much as I try to rise above all that garbage, I hung up the phone feeling a little low.

I tried not to let it show, but I’m a terrible actress. My husband asked, “Are you ok?”

I stalwartly replied, “Absolutely.”

My husband added, “Are you sure? Because if I’d just received a call like that, I think I’d be a little bit upset. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” I replied. “I’m fine.”

So we continued on in search of The Freedom Trail, Paul Revere’s house, Harvard campus and various other destinations we had planned. However that day, they were filming a movie in Boston. Many streets, like most of the streets on our tourist map, were blocked off. So we wound our way around different streets, side streets and made all kinds of detours.

And then unexpectedly, I heard it.

“ANDREA MERRIMAN!”

I paused. Had I just heard my name?

And then I heard it again: “ANDREA MERRIMAN!”

And before I knew it, one of my favorite people in the world and one of my closest Colorado friends (my friend who’d been with me through my nightmare in every possible way—she even helped me write my divorce) was running toward me. Before I could even say anything, the first words out of her mouth were, “Thank goodness your husband is wearing a BYU shirt, or I’d NEVER have noticed you!”

What are the odds that one of your favorite people and closest friends from Colorado moves to NYC for one year after you have moved to Utah and you both end up in the city of Boston, on the same day, at the same time, winding your way through the same off-the-beaten-path streets due to the filming of a movie and you run into each other…thanks to a BYU t-shirt?

Another beauty of the unexpected life.

(And by the way, although I didn’t tell her anything of my crazy Ponzi morning, that chance encounter with my good friend was exactly what I needed to shake it off and have one of the best days of my cruise! The entire day, and everything I got to see, and getting to share it all with my husband turned out to equal one day of absolute perfection.)

All because of a BYU t-shirt.

The power of a BYU t-shirt.

“Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.” (Mark Twain)