Living Happily Ever After
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Blog Articles

Reality

Date: November 6, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Reality is the #1 cause of insanity among those who are in contact with it.”

My grandpa was a cute, gentle, nice, loving man. He was short, bald, soft spoken, kind to children, served in his state House of Representatives, was a farmer  and wore white patent leather shiny shoes when he dressed up. He was a 1970s Lifesavers commercial come to life. I never knew anyone who didn’t love him.

I was with my former father-in-law, once, and was completely struck by the different grandfather my children had: tall, with thick dark hair, tan skin, a big tattoo, played college football, was a Golden Glove boxer in the Navy, and worked in construction.

It made me laugh. My children certainly were living a different reality from the one I had.

This morning I was reminded of that, again, as my youngest sang me a song, over and over, before I left for work. It went like this (sung to the tune of “The Farmer In The Dell”): “The farmer in the jail, the farmer in the jail, heigh-ho the dairy-oh, the farmer in the jail.”

I told my son I loved his song. And then I explained, “It actually goes like this,” sang it for him the traditional way, and taught him what a “dell” is. But he didn’t buy it at all.

“No, it’s not, Mom. The farmer is in JAIL.” (I don’t think jail was even in my vocabulary when I was his age. Like I said, my children are certainly living a different reality from the one I had! It’s funny, what becomes your reality, based on your unexpected life and its experiences.) We had a discussion about farmers and what good people they are, that they’re working on their farms, not in a jail; but my argument fell on the deaf ears of a preschooler.

Long story short, he wouldn’t change his song. Or his belief.

Last year that little ditty would have panicked me. Today, I simply dropped my son off at daycare and thought, “Hmm, those children are going to learn a new song today!”

I realized I’ve accepted my unexpected life. I’m comfortable, again, in my own skin. I don’t dread the “P” word (prison.) And it feels good.

Not to mention it can be VERY entertaining!

“I am biased to my show as a whole but it is still very entertaining.” (Rob Mariano)

In The Minority

Date: October 25, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“The test of courage comes when we are in the minority. The test of tolerance comes when we are in the majority.” (Ralph W. Sockman)

My ex-husband realized he was in the minority when he first arrived at the minimum security of the incarceration facility. He was part of a group of five inmates. The deputy asked, “How many of you have been here before?” He was shocked to see he was the ONLY ONE who didn’t raise his hand!

He couldn’t help but notice as a white man, without a tattoo, he was again in the minority at the facility.

As he got to know the personal situations of the men, he realized that having been married to one woman for 20 years and having four children with just one woman, also put him in the minority. Most of the men he met had children with several women. One man had eight children by seven women!

Another way he differed from the majority of the inmates he interacted with was in the language he used. He may have been the first inmate in history to attempt to express himself forcefully not with profanity, but with his own “strong” words: “darn it,” “shucks,” and “crap.” The other men in jail began to use those same words around him, saying them with a smile, and then laughing as they mocked his vernacular totally unexpected in the inside.

But it’s ok to be different. Even in the unexpected life. Even in prison.

The man in the minority didn’t completely “fit in” to the environment in which he lived. And the men in the majority excelled in tolerance for his “oddities.” Their friendship grew despite their differences. And as inmates arrived and departed for other facilities and other places, they were sad to see each other go.

“Happy trails to you, until we meet again.” (Dale Evans Rogers)

It can happen. Even in prison.