Living Happily Ever After
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The Speech, Part III

Date: March 6, 2014  Author: Andrea Merriman

Long story short, within days U.S. Marshalls descended on my home and inventoried my possessions, anything of value, for seizure. Victims contacted the media. U.S. attorneys broke the news and my home was soon surrounded with media satellite trucks from across the country, shining spotlights on my home and into my windows night and day, filming every move, looking in my windows, knocking on my door.

Victims appeared at my home and screamed and yelled the worst of things at me and my children for the things my husband had done. One victim loaded a gun and made it all the way to my front door, prepared to blow someone away, before changing his mind. Federal agents seized everything of value. Hate mail came from across the country. And public speculation ran rampant–even about me. Of course I had to have know, of course I was probably involved; you name it, if it was hostile, hateful, untrue or anything of that nature…someone thought it and shared it with the world via the media. Victims even entered my home one night and terrorized my teenage daughter.

I had a matter of weeks to put together a life for my children and I. Thankfully, I found a job. (It didn’t cover all of our living expenses, but at least it was something!) I divorced my husband–I had no money, so I wrote my own divorce to the best of my ability and with the help of a friend, and went to court to have it finalized.

My ex-husband was taken into custody and eventually sentenced to 12 1/2 years in prison. And I began to claw and crawl my way out of the deepest, darkest, blackest pit of destruction and despair I could never have imagined. Lets just say it’s not quite the happily ever after I EVER dreamed of as a young girl (or at any time of my life, for that matter!)

But I was raised on fairy tales. I still enjoy them! I believe in happy endings and that a happily ever after is possible for everyone, regardless of their challenges.

So today I’d like to share my formula for HAPLY EVR AFTR (™), courtesy of my unexpected life. It comes not from a fairy godmother, but from living through and recovering from an indescribable horror–we all have one, don’t we?

It worked for me. And it can work for you, too!

(Sorry to drag this on, but tune in again tomorrow and in the coming days for the good stuff–HAPLY EVR AFTR!)

“That’s when the great stuff happens…” (Carol Kane)

There Certainly Are Times…

Date: May 24, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“The days of our lives, for all of us, are numbered. We know that. And yes, there are certainly times when we aren’t able to muster as much strength and patience as we would like. It’s called being human.” (Elizabeth Edwards)

In case my inability to recognize I was married to a criminal living a double life for nearly two decades or my inept efforts at gardening haven’t been enough proof of this shortcoming of mine, that of “being human,” I offer the following recent example.

My carpool driver was out of town. My college age son had a doctor’s appointment. My high school daughter had a track meet. My middle son had a scouting activity. And that meant I had a kindergartener getting released from school at 3:30 p.m. with no one to pick him up or supervise him. I’d just left my family for 5 full days for work, so I left work early to pick up my son as no one else could looked forward to spending an extra, early hour with him as a result. I was so excited for the quality mother and son time! I planned to take him to a park and enjoy the sunny spring day and yet, despite my good intentions, when I left my job early that one afternoon to pick up my son, I worried that my boss was bothered that I had done so. (He’s a good man, family oriented; he didn’t say anything, he didn’t act a certain way, it may have just been working mother guilt–where you feel like you’re shorting your family or your employer, but never that everything is in balance! Any other working moms ever feel that way? Anyway, I felt like my boss wasn’t happy I was leaving an hour early.)

But I left anyway, deciding corporate wrath couldn’t hold a candle to a lone and unsupervised kindergartener wandering the city streets alone, trying to find his way home all by himself. (Who knows WHAT could happen in a scenario like that, huh?) But my son wasn’t waiting for me after school like he should have been.

“Dumb, forgetful me! I must have the date wrong, carpool has probably already come and gone,” I thought, so I drove home and arrived to find…an empty house. I raced back to the school, worrying that my son would now be the last kindergartener waiting for his now late mother but…my son wasn’t waiting. I went into the school office, expecting to find my son waiting there while the secretary called for a ride home for him but…he wasn’t there either. I also checked the school grounds, his classroom, the bathrooms but…my son was nowhere to be found.

I blamed myself: “He must have tried walking home  and in my panic to make sure I picked him up on time, I must not have seen him on the sidewalks. I probably drove right by him! What a terrible mother I am to not see my son,” so I dashed back to my car, drove the route from school to home again, expecting to see my son along the way…and saw nothing. Not one child. That worried me, too. NO children walking anywhere?

I debated contacting the police as I drove back and forth from school to home and back again a few times, but never did find my son. I called my older children, neighbors, anyone I could think of to see if perhaps someone had given my son a ride that day but…no one had seen him. Crazy thoughts, worries, really began to kick in. Visuals of a kidnapped child haunted me, not to mention visuals of Andrea Merriman, appearing on national t.v. AGAIN—this time for not being able to keep track of a six-year old!

“What a loser the entire world will now believe I am!” I thought. “As if marrying a man who lived a double life and perpetuated a Ponzi scheme wasn’t enough, to now lost my child! If they thought I was dumb before, imagine what the world will think NOW!” I surmised. (Some unexpected revelations, like those revealed to me in 2009, leave their scars. You can see that I don’t have a totally normal first reaction to every life or parenting experience anymore. I mean, who ever thinks, when their child isn’t waiting to be picked up at school, that there is a tie-in to a Ponzi scheme? I confess, I try to control my reactions but I can’t seem to control the thoughts and worries that initially flood my mind at unexpected times.)

I made one last phone call home before calling the police and was informed my kindergartener had just arrived. I drove home, after searching for him for almost 2 hours, worried, but grateful he was safe; unsettled by the unhappy feeling I felt my employer had toward my early departure; and indescribably disappointed that the fun together time I’d planned with my son had been taken, instead, by the child hunt. I’d left work early, risked employer wrath and lost my son anyway…all for nothing!

When I asked my son how he’d gotten home and he lied. Instead he told me his carpool had driven him home. The truth? He’d walked home (wrong choice #1) but had stopped to play at a friend’s house (wrong choice #2) and apparently finally had the good sense to finally he was going to be in big trouble and thought a lie would save him—WRONG! (In fact, it was wrong choice #3, BIG WRONG CHOICE, to tell a lie!)

I lost it; grounded my son and sent him to his room to think about the wrong choices he had made. Followed by these immediate thoughts: I’m a terrible mother, I’m raising a juvenile delinquent, I’m not a capable enough woman to work full-time AND be a good mother, my youngest child is out of control, my children are being ruined by the choices their father made that left me with NO choices—the list, at that point, went on and on.) I saw no way out but to quit my job and devote my full attention to raising my family. Of course, with no money and no child support, that would necessitate going on welfare (something I never, ever expected I would be forced to do!)

I went to my room, lay down on my bed and indulged in some serious tears of defeat. Surprisingly, my oldest son walked into my room, smiled, shook his head and said, “Mom, in my entire life, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that mad. What are you going to do?” I answered, “Quit my job, go on welfare,” and began to detail everything that choice would result in. He advised, “I wouldn’t be so hasty, Mom,” and gave me the biggest and best parenting pep talk (including scripture quotes and other readings; he told me what a great person; what a wonderful mother I am; and he told me to hang in there as he offered his best 19-year-old wisdom and talked me down from the ledge of parenting despair and impatience I felt at my life situation.

When he was done I said, “Whoever would have imagined YOU would be giving ME a parenting pep talk?”  He smiled, laughed and said, “Mom, I’ve been doing that my entire life—just from the other side!”

True. But it worked.

Later, my husband arrived home from work, joined us on the bed and added his opinion of my parenting talents and I’m pleased to report I’ve mustered additional strength and patience and…am still employed. Still hanging in there. Still a mom. (Grateful to be one, as always, by the way, not to mention grateful for the brief glimpse of one son, mostly raised, who has turned out to be so good, wise and amazing in every way, it gives me hope that the others will become like him and follow in his footsteps IF I, their mother, keep at it.

The glory of motherhood.

“With what price we pay for the glory of motherhood.” (Isadora Duncan)

Remaining Open to Unexpected Experiences

Date: April 13, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered. An inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered.” (Gilbert K. Chesterson)

Maybe I’m a know it all (or at least a woman who knows her own mind.) I admit, I have preconceived notions as to how I think things should be, how I think they should go and I confess, I’ve always had my own plans, goals and dreams I’m working toward. Maybe that’s why it’s such a struggle for me when things don’t go as planned. Hence, the “shock factor” of the unexpected life.

For example, I remember when my dad died unexpectedly in a plane crash when I was a teenager and I struggled to make sense of it. One thing I remember thinking over and over again was, “No, this can’t be. I love my dad. I was meant to have a dad—that’s why I was placed for adoption as an infant, because I was SUPPOSED to have a dad, that was the plan for ME.” Cut to 2009 when the Ponzi scheme was revealed to me. I had many issues with it, of course, but one was, “No, this can’t be. I’ve always been honest, I’ve always lived a life of integrity, I can’t be involved to whatever degree, to any degree, in something like this that SOMEONE ELSE has done!” But you don’t always have control over the situations you find yourself in, courtesy of life, do you? The only thing you can control is your reaction to those challenges and what you choose to do with them.

I say: do something good with them. I can’t think of anything worse than being handed something miserable and choosing to let it destroy you for the rest of your life. Create a triumph out of a tragedy. Pick yourself up and carry on. Look for the good you’ve got. And never give up on life, or being happy, through everything you’re required to endure. Endure to the end. Oh, yes, and while you’re at it—strive to be open to all of the “new” opportunities that come with it all.

For example, when I saw Notre Dame in Paris for the first time, I was unexpectedly overwhelmed. I went into it thinking it was just something to see because of its history. I expected I’d visit it, enjoy it, cross it off my list of things to see while in Paris and move on to the next sight. I didn’t expect to FEEL what I felt there. To walk inside and be literally overwhelmed by its majesty. To be so touched by the experience of it. To sit, to cry from the beauty of it all, and to soak it all in until my friend finally felt it was time for us to go!

I remember my first trip to London. My #1 goal was to see the Tower of London and the crown jewels; my friend’s #1 goal was to see Westminster Abbey. So we saw both, and guess what? The thing I most enjoyed from that trip ended up being Westminster Abbey, while my friend was unexpectedly impressed by, you guessed it, the Tower of London. By remaining open to the unexpected, we saw things we’d otherwise perhaps have missed. We might have missed our most cherished experiences; remaining “open” to new adventures, or things we didn’t expect, greatly enriched our travel experiences.

Apply that to the unexpected life and I guess that’s why I dared trust a man again, fall in love and remarry. Why I keep singing (occasionally!) Why I ALMOST auditioned for a show. Why I’ve tagged along to autograph signings when invited. Why I give speeches. Why I’ve dared expose myself to the potential for anything in a media interview. And even, to some degree, why I blog about all of the unexpected adventures.

Every life experience has something to distinguish it by, something to learn from or can be a new adventure in some way if you choose to allow it to be. I think it depends on you.

“An adventure may be worn as a muddy spot or it may be worn as a proud insignia. It is the woman wearing it who makes it the one thing or the other.” (Norma Shearer)

A P.S. To The News

Date: June 16, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

Lesson from the unexpected life:  ”Never floss with a stranger.” (Joan Rivers) Or even friend them!

The first time I did a media interview regarding my unexpected life and what I had learned, I was overwhelmed by the (mostly) positive response to what I shared. Many kind people, most of them strangers to me, even a few of my former husband’s Ponzi scheme victims that I’d never known, contacted me with kind comments.

The following day I received many Facebook friend requests–from men I didn’t know.

I admit, I was a little clueless. I looked at the pictures that accompanied their requests and wracked my brain for their connection to me. I couldn’t figure out how my mind was so blank regarding people I knew. (I had to know them, I mean, they knew a lot of personal stuff about me!) I kept thinking, “The shock of my unexpected life has caused a brain freeze! How do I not recognize people I know?” I was embarrassed to admit I couldn’t remember them, but finally told one man, “I’m so sorry. You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I can’t remember how we know each other. Will you remind me?”

“Oh, we don’t know each other,” he explained. “I just saw your story on the news and I’m divorced…”

OH.

I never expected that.

I learned a lot from that first interview. So much, that I knew what to expect from the NBC affiliate KSL Channel 5 interview last week. The day following the story, true to form, I received several friend requests from men I didn’t recognize. This time, I was prepared. I knew I didn’t know them, so I didn’t respond. However, one of the men looked like the camera man who filmed our interview with Jennifer Stagg (at least, that’s who I thought he was!) so I accepted his request–and got a very nice follow-up message from him praising my appearance and…some other things. OOPS. It wasn’t the camera man after all! Just another unexpected experience in the unexpected life.

“It’s no wonder that truth is stranger than fiction. Fiction has to make sense.” (Mark Twain)

Isn’t that the truth?

A News Story

Date: June 15, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

It’s official.

Another opportunity for me and my children to share some of what we have experienced and learned in our unexpected life.

Jennifer Stagg, a news personality on NBC affiliate Channel 5, in Salt Lake City, Utah, did a story on our family which aired last week.

Here is the link to see the news story, if you’re interested:  http://www.ksl.com/?nid=148&sid=15904053

What I noticed most about this opportunity was the continued healing that has taken place in myself and my children, especially my middle son. He was just 9 years old when his world shattered; too young to understand a lot of what was taking place and to understand why it was happening. However, last week’s interview reminded me that a lot of growing up takes place from 9 years old to 11 years old!

Although this particular child didn’t want to participate in the interview, he agreed to stay in the yard and play while it was taking place. And then, unexpectedly, before the filming wrapped, he came in the house and hung around the film crew. I asked, “Is there something you want to say?”  He replied, “Yes.”

So Jennifer sat down and asked him some questions, including things about his old life, things about his new life, what he had learned and how he felt about it all.

As for what he missed about his old life? The fields behind our Colorado home that he played and rode his dirt bike in–and his friends. “If you have friends and family, that’s all you really need to be happy though,” he explained. “And I’m happy in my new life. My new life is just as good.”

“Really? What do you like about your new life?” asked Jenn.

“That I have a stepdad who is really nice, nice to me, who really likes me and who I really like.” (Too bad #5 was out of town on a business trip and didn’t get to hear that, huh? I shared it with him when he got home!)

He concluded by offering his wisdom: hard things happen, you just have to carry on.

Count his emotional well-being and healthy outlook and happiness in life as yet another miracle we’ve been blessed with, thanks to the triumph of living…the unexpected life.

“We are all broken and wounded in this world. Some choose to grow strong at the broken places.” (Harold J. Duarte-Bernhardt)

He sure has.

First Date

Date: May 21, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“If you’re a young Mafia gangster out on your first date, I bet it’s real embarrassing if someone tries to kill you.” (Jack Handy)

Who can forget their first date?

My mom fondly recalled her first date many times over the course of my life: she was 5 years old, and went to a movie at a movie theater with a boy and his parents. She was a friendly gal, and dated a lot during her childhood and early teens, and then it was recommended by L.D.S. church leaders that dating be delayed until the age of 16 so she stopped dating–until she turned 16 years old!

I remember my first date: Derek.

It was late August 1983 after I had turned 16 years old. The boy I’d had a crush on since the moment I first laid eyes on him (at 14 years old) had asked me out and my friend, Carrie, had come over to help me get ready. I talked and hung out with her while I did my hair and makeup and decided what to wear–and she gave me a pedicure, which I promptly covered up when I put my Topsiders on! It was the 1980s, so of course my hair was something to behold, and accented by the skinny tie (anyone remember wearing those?) that completed my ensemble. We saw the movie, “Strange Brew,” and had a great time. It was a first date with no regrets, or embarrassing moments, that I can recall.

My daughter’s first date was an entirely different experience: Eric.

She went to a school dance with the boy she sits by in Chemistry class, a fun and casual friend. Watching my daughter get ready, and helping her, was a total flashback to the 1980s as she was headed to a decades-themed dance and she and her date had chosen 1980s exercise wear. I helped her find a Jelly belt, tear her sweatshirt to hang off the shoulder, find neon-colored tank tops to layer, get her hair in THE  high side ponytail, with her green eyeshadow (what can I say, we couldn’t find any blue eyeshadow in the house!) and with her hot pink headband (just like Olivia Newton John’s in “Lets Get Physical.”) It wasn’t in the original plan that my daughter drive on the date, but due to car troubles of other parties involved, she ended up driving her car. And accidentally, while slowly backing up, she backed into a friend’s car.

It was dark. Neither she nor her date saw the other car. Thankfully, she backs up really slowly. Thankfully, no damage occurred to either car or to any living being. In fact, the driver of the other car got out, hugged my daughter and told her it was no big deal. I was very relieved there was no damage to people or automobiles; but my daughter was so mortified about the whole thing she wasn’t even dwelling on that. That event overshadowed every other aspect of her first date. That event was what she talked about when she got home. Even late the NEXT evening she was still worrying about it, alone in her bedroom, so I went to check on her.

She was absolutely humiliated, mortified, and didn’t want to show her face anywhere, ever, again. I tried to help her put it into perspective so I said, “Sarah, you can survive this. Just think of other hugely embarrassing things you’ve overcome.”

“Like what?” she asked.

I was stunned. Had the events of 2009 faded that fast in her teenage mind? I clarified, “Like discovering a family member stole millions of dollars, was heading to prison, it was all over the national media, we lost everything and had to watch the government come into our home and take our possessions, some people were mean to us, other people were kind to us yet we had to rely on the charity of others…ALL of those embarrassing moments we endured. If you can survive that humiliation, you can get through anything! This is nothing compared to that.”

Adding that last sentence reminded me that embarrassment and humiliation is all in your perspective. It was also a mistake; add it to the many that continually stream from my mouth, far too often, as I say what I think pretty much as soon as I think it. Call it one of my many weaknesses.

My daughter countered that her experience was far more embarrassing than the one I referenced. I was stunned! I couldn’t believe she really thought that, but she did. She drove her point home (no pun intended, lol!) when she added, “And Mom, if you think criminals, Ponzi schemes, publicity, divorce, prison, crime, government seizure and everything else is more embarrassing than backing into another car on a date…you don’t know ANYTHING about teenage girls!”

Wow. How could I have gotten so old and so far removed from being a teenage girl? And how could I have failed my daughter like that?

You see, one of the great things about being my mother’s daughter is that no matter my embarrassing moment, when I returned home mortified about something that had happened to me, my mom could totally commiserate and share an embarrassing moment from her life that absolutely outdid mine, made me laugh and made me feel so much better about my humiliation! In fact, she survived such mortification that as an adult, friends would call after something embarrassing and ask, “Tell me a story about your mom to make me feel better so I can get through this most recent humiliation.” I thought that’s what mothers are for–and I wasn’t able to do that for mine! (Although I must be blinded by my past, because I could swear 2009 is the ultimate in humiliation. I can’t see myself ever being embarrassed about anything again, after that one!)

So I quit trying to reason with my daughter, stopped attempting to help her put embarrassment into perspective and just empathized with her. I promised that someday, we will look back on her first date…and laugh; we’ll even be the better for it, and we’ll be strong.

“But I learned that there’s a certain character that can be built from embarrassing yourself endlessly. If you can sit happy with embarrassment, there’s not much else that can really get to ya.” (Christian Bale)

Now if we can only be totally hot when we have as much character, strength and wisdom as Batman, we’ll be absolutely set for…The Unexpected Life.

An Exception

Date: March 24, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“There is no useful rule without an exception.” (Thomas Fuller)

A few days later I got a call from my pastor.

He reported, “Andrea! I have good news! The First Presidency is going to accept the letter your former husband wrote and mailed to you as the letter you can attach to your paperwork. They said, ‘For her, we will make an exception.’”

But I laughed as I realized out of the millions of members of the L.D.S. church worldwide, it didn’t sound like I was unknown by certain people.  They knew exactly who I was.

Yes, I’m pretty sure they did–media coverage of my former husband’s crimes always referenced that he had served as a “Mormon bishop;” members of the media had nicknamed him the “Mormon Madoff.” The Church itself had to issue statements to the media regarding the situation and eventually, they’d had to refund all of the tithing Shawn Merriman had paid during the years he ran his Ponzi scheme. I was not completely anonymous.

In fact, that was one part of the whole Ponzi scheme/crime thing I felt so bad about–that my church had been referenced, at all, in the whole mess when they, like me and the rest of the victims, had never known what was really going on with Shawn Merriman or his company, “Market Street Advisors.”

However, I was very grateful for The First Presidency’s kindness and willingness to work with me to accommodate a difficult situation. My paperwork was completed and submitted.

“How glorious it is – and also how painful – to be an exception.” (Alfred de Musset)

I Didn’t Even Plan It

Date: February 5, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

The auction of many of the possessions from my former life took place one week ago.

Thank goodness ”We are not the sum of our possessions” (George H.W. Bush) or I’d be a pretty empty equation. Because the sum of my possessions is quite limited these days–thanks to the crimes and Ponzi scheme perpetrated by my former spouse.

After he revealed his crimes, federal authorities seized everything of value that could be sold, the proceeds going to pay back victims who invested their money under the guise of his investment company, Market Street Advisors. I hope it was successful and that every investor/victim receives compensation and restitution.

As for me, I have my jewels (my children.) My treasures (their artwork and handmade gifts they’ve given me over the years; family photos; and the like.) And a few things handed down to me from my ancestors–dresses from my mother, grandmothers and a great-grandmother; costume jewelry from my mother and grandmothers; a book about Paris from my grandpa; a table and chairs from a grandmother; a white trunk that traveled from England and carted the entirety of my great-great grandmother, Mary Ann Quinn’s, worldly possessions to Utah in the 1800s; and various family stories, all of which I appreciate because “Family stories make the most valuable heirlooms.” (Unknown)

In case anyone is wondering how I ended up with ANYTHING, you’re not alone. The day my former husband revealed his crimes to me, March 18, 2009, and told me federal authorities had frozen our bank accounts and our assets, that we were losing everything, I envisioned that, literally, to be the case. In my mind I saw giant government semi trucks, with dark tinted windows, pulling up to my home and removing everything from it, including my clothes, my shoes, furniture, jewelry, my treasures (like a painting my deceased mother painted), etc… In fact, terrible as this may be, one of the things I did that day before I went to bed to not sleep was go to my closet and remove the tags from a pair of jeans I hadn’t worn yet–hoping that if my jeans couldn’t be returned to the store, maybe the government would let me keep them! (I just knew I’d never have money to make a single purchase again in my entire life.)

But I was wrong. Just one more thing I’ve learned from my unexpected life.

In an asset seizure (resulting from a Ponzi scheme, anyway, I don’t know if all asset seizure are the same or different), they let you keep your clothes and your shoes. They allow you to keep your family heirlooms. They even allowed me to keep a lot of my furniture so I could establish my little family in a home in a new place. They were good to my kids. They let them keep their clothes and shoes, bicycles and even allowed me to keep their outdoor playset–but they took their pedal cars, dirt bikes and ATVs, my 16-year-old’s Mini Cooper and other things that were fun but luxury items, non-essential to basic living needs. So contrary to what I envisioned in those first moments of March 18, 2009, it wasn’t quite as dire as losing every single thing I had ever owned, touched or possessed with nothing but a cardboard box to use for clothing AND shelter. (I was shocked and imagined the worst, that day, what can I say?)

It’s very nice that they do that, that they allowed us to keep the basics we would need to live, but I also learned in 2009 that they actually HAVE to do that. They told me they had to, “there are laws in place to protect the innocent,” although sometimes I felt like somehow those laws weren’t enacted on my behalf because there were MANY things that did not work out for me, truth be told. Color me able to relate to the investment scheme victims in that regard, as well, I guess!

I learned they can’t seize something that wasn’t paid for with “ill gotten gains”–as they referred to everything I owned that had been purchased by Ponzi scheme proceeds. So I got to keep anything not paid for with those funds. Like things purchased prior to the date the Ponzi scheme began.

Edgar Watson Howe said, ”Everyone has something ancestral, even if it is nothing more than a disease.” That’s true even in my case, former family member of a criminal, with most of her possessions tainted by crime. If I had something my parents had given me, that I’d inherited, I got to keep that stuff too.

They let you keep gifts, as long as those gifts weren’t given to you by the criminal (in my case, that meant not only did I lose everything of material value I thought I had but also most of the gifts my husband had given to me over the almost two decades we were married!)

However, when you’ve been married 20 years, and to a man who was perpetrating a Ponzi scheme unbeknownst to you, that doesn’t leave much. Most everything, including money, ends up mingled together–which means you lose it when the Feds swoop in and seize all of the valuable assets. But I did end up with a a few things. In particular, my piano (used, from the 1950s, but a good one) and a violin. (MY violin. I’d had it since 1982 and I had it–through the 2009 drama, media coverage, scrutiny of neighbors and others, the asset seizure, my divorce, my move to Utah, my Utah flood and my new life.)

I had my violin until last week, that is.

It was a nice bit of irony, actually. One of my few material possessions of value, my violin, left my possession the same week everything of value from my former life got auctioned off to the highest bidder. And I didn’t even plan it that way.

“I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.” (E.B. White)

The coincidences in an unexpected life.

I’m Not Superman

Date: February 1, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Of course I’m scared. I’m not Superman.” (Jackie Chan)

We’re into superheroes at our house. I can’t escape them–just this morning I folded and put away a padded, muscular Batman shirt, and tripped over a Superman cape on my way to complete the task!

As the mother of three sons, I’ve learned my fair share about superheroes. And I confess, I like them for more than their muscular build. I admire superheroes for the way they rise to the challenge. They do the right thing, even when it’s hard. They’re willing to stand alone. They aren’t afraid of anything. And they come out on top.

I’ve been taught to rise to the challenge; I try to do the right thing; I’m definitely willing to stand alone. But I’ve been afraid of a lot; I’m no superhero. And nothing showed me that more than my unexpected life.

I wasn’t just scared, I was terrified. Each day I operated like John Johnson who said, ”Every day I run scared. That’s the only way I can stay ahead.” (John Johnson) Only I couldn’t seem to stay ahead of each scary new challenge that became mine on a daily basis, courtesy of each new revelation by my former spouse. Frankly, I’m surprised all of the shock and uncertainty didn’t induce a heart attack! (Oh yes, that’s right. That would have been impossible as my heart was already broken, crushed and numb.)

There were so many thing to fear back then, it seemed it didn’t take much to scare me. I was even wary of opening the front door! “I am scared easily, here is a list of my adrenaline-production: 1) small children, 2) policeman, 3) high places, 4) that my next movie will not be as good as the last one.” (Alfred Hitchcock) Only my adrenaline-producers were little things like crime, a Ponzi scheme, asset seizure, U.S. Marshals, inspectors, attorneys, media coverage, neighbors scrutinizing my every move and reporting each little tidbit they gleaned to government authorities, frozen bank accounts, financial ruin, potential bankruptcy, knowing there were victims who had been hurt by the action of the man I’d been married to, and the uncertainty of what actually would happen and when, to my former husband as well as to my family, to name a few.

I felt like such a failure to be so absolutely scared on all counts, on every front. I longed to be less fearful and more brave.

But the passage of time has helped me see something now what I didn’t realize then. It’s ok to be scared. And actually, I don’t think it matters one bit if you’re scared or brave. You can’t always help what you feel. (In fact, you need to let yourself feel what you feel so that you can work through it, get past it and heal.) What matters is that you carry on and face what needs to be faced. That’s true courage. That’s real bravery.

“Bravery is the capacity to perform properly even when scared half to death.” (Omar Bradley)

That’s also…the unexpected life.

So whatever you’re facing, whatever your challenge or fear, choose bravery.  Perform properly. Do the right thing despite all of your fears, and someday you’ll be able to look back and see how courageous you actually were.

New Friends…Prison-Style

Date: October 24, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I have friends in overalls whose friendship I would not swap for the favor of the kings of the world.” (Thomas A. Edison)

The incarceration experience for my ex-husband included meeting new people and making new friends. Yes, they were dressed in the only fashion acceptable for inmates–aka. orange jumpsuits–but learning about some of them completely changed my perspective of prison and many of those who reside there. They don’t fit Hollywood stereotypes; they shattered my expectations. (Prepare yourself. I’m about to expose my ignorance.)

When he first was taken into custody, one of the deputies talked to him about the “average” inmate. He said the jail had all types of men, who had committed all types of crimes, but that “most are just average ‘Joes’ that messed up.” I confess I’d never thought of criminals in that way before–as average people who had made mistakes.

He met an inmate with three college degrees. I had probably assumed, too often, that people commit crimes because they lack education and training for legal employment–that crime is all they’ve witnessed and known so that is what they do. Not true in all cases.

Sometimes I could even relate to their bad luck. Several of the stories I heard took my thoughts back to my teens and the dumb things teenagers sometimes do without thinking beyond the moment. I pictured kids I knew as a teenager, maybe even my brothers, doing similar things–only to a lesser degree. Here’s one friend’s story: He stole an unmarked police vehicle by mistake. In the process of messing with the wires he turned on the flashing lights, unbeknownst to the driver. The man’s friend, driving the other car, tried to catch up to the stolen car and let him know what had happened but the man thought his friend wanted to race–so he sped up. A state patrolman coming the other direction flashed his lights at him, thinking it was a cop who just forgot to turn his flashers off! The man got caught and went to jail.

The most eye opening thing I learned about his new friends, however, wasn’t really anything new it was simply something I’d forgotten as I lived a law abiding life on “the outside.” That is, even gangsters have hearts.

Despite the white collar nature of my ex-husband’s crimes, he was incarcerated with infamous criminals, well-known in all circles, including the media. For that reason, he never shared their names with us. But what stunned me, was how these notorious gangsters were so kind to an older man. After all, he was the age of their fathers. They introduced themselves to him, shook his hand, introduced him to others and told him, “If anyone gives you trouble, just let us know and we’ll take care of it.” (But no one ever bothered him.) They invited him to exercise with them. They showed him the ropes of life on “the inside.” They talked, played games and got to know one another. Yet despite their kindness, they were tough men. He never saw anyone cry or show emotion.

And then one day, my ex-husband lost it. The consequences of his choices hit him and said he felt them deeper than they ever had before. He cried. He had never seen any show of emotion in the jail and was mortified that he couldn’t help himself or stop himself from the flood of tears. In such confined space, there is nowhere to go and nowhere to hide, so everyone witnessed his grief. As he shared the experience, I don’t know what I expected the reaction might have been; my imagination conjured up many different scenarios, none of them sympathetic, all of them included my ex-husband getting beat up for being a sissy. But here is what really happened.

Everyone left him alone. They didn’t hassle him. They gave him his space. And not one inmate made fun of him, shunned him or beat him up for his weakness. In fact, during the most express moment of anguish and grief, the “biggest, baddest gangster of them all” came quietly to my ex-husband’s bunk, put a hand on his shoulder, told him everything would be o.k., and that he had a friend and was there for him if he ever wanted to talk about it.

That touched me.

I don’t know who the man really was, but I named him Mr. C. (“C” for compassion. I envision him looking like the infamous Mr. T of the old “A-Team” show, so basically I just changed the consonant in his name!) We need more Mr. Cs in the world, don’t we? More friends, more people with compassion and more people who choose to be there for for each of us, “outside” or in the slammer, when our unexpected life or its ramifications overwhelms us.

I know I’ve needed that and have been blessed by those who have shown compassion toward me and my children.

I don’t think I’ll ever look at criminals in the same way again. And it’s my unexpected life that gave me a different view.

“Deep down even the most hardened criminal is starving for the same thing that motivates the innocent baby: Love and acceptance.”(Lily Fairchilde)