Living Happily Ever After
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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)

Sold!

Date: February 9, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“This sentimental comedy…is said to have had a great success in its own country. So do fringed lamp shades.” (Richard Eder)

I determined not be sentimental about the sale of my violin. I didn’t really even let myself think about it. I just loaded my violin in the car and headed to Salt Lake City. The problem was that I had time to think as I drove to Mr. Prier’s store. And although I didn’t do it on purpose, my mind was flooded with memories of my parents, everything they had taught me and had done for me, competitions and concerts I had played with my violin, solos I’d had and even some funny memories–like how in the early stages of learning the violin, our family cat would attack me when I practiced.

As I drove, I started feeling pretty sentimental about the whole thing. Every few miles, I’d wonder if I should turn around and head home with my violin. But I kept driving. Too soon, I arrived at Peter Paul Prier. I parked my car and headed in.

The little shop stands exactly as it must have in the 1980s (and probably, earlier) when my parents walked through those same doors. Instead of a bell jingling your arrival as stores used to in the “olden days” of my childhood, Peter Paul Prier has a mechanism that strums the strings of a violin hung over the door when you open it. The walls have wood paneling. Art, depicting violins and European scenes, hangs on the walls. An adjoining room is lined with shelves of beautiful violins for sale.

Mr. Prier was on the phone, so I had time to look around the little store and soak up its atmosphere, which wasn’t good for me. It made me want to cry. I walked to the counter and saw the same receipt I had from my purchase–he still uses the exact same graphic and receipt paper! (I loved that.) I had plenty of time to sit and think about my parents being in the very same store, making a purchase–and there I was returning it for money almost 30 years later. I’m sure my parents had no idea how much their purchase would help me at a later date just as I’d never imagined the day would come that I’d return their gift.

The longer I sat there, the harder it got. I hoped Mr. Prier would soon appear so I could sell him my violin and get out of there before I started to cry. Finally, he came. He walked out, eyes twinkling, a slight German accent to his English and asked how he could help me. I showed him my violin and told him I’d like to sell it. He inspected it, told me a little bit about it, showed me special things about my violin and I gave him the original receipt. He asked why I wanted to sell it.

I didn’t expect him to ask me that. I didn’t have a smooth answer prepared so I told him the truth: I was divorced, a single mother of four children, and I needed the money. He looked at me with surprise, and said something like, “What? A nice woman like you? That is too bad.” For some reason, I explained that I am a nice woman; my divorce was the result of crimes committed by the man I was married to, that he is incarcerated, that I lost everything of value in a government seizure but I’d been allowed to keep my violin because my parents had purchased it in 1982, long before my marriage or my former spouse’s crimes. (I don’t know why I did that. I know better than to share my story!)

He nodded his head, told me what he would give me for my violin, I agreed to the amount, and he went to his office to write the check. While he was gone, I struggled to reconcile myself to what I was doing. Just when I thought I had moved on and healed from everything, apparently there was another undiscovered chapter to close. I was affected by it. I tried not to be. I fought back the tears. I just hoped I could get out of there before they began to roll.

Mr. Prier returned, came from behind the counter, gave me the check out and promised me it would clear when I cashed it. I held the check, but he didn’t let go right away. He offered some very kind words to me, along with the money, and that was when I did start to cry. So there I stood like a total idiot, crying, as Peter Paul Prier said I was a nice woman, he hoped his check helped me, he wished the best for me and my children, that things would get better with time–he knew there were good things in store for me. (I tell you, only in Utah are people like this! It’s amazing to me that I’ve had more than one encounter with businessmen who offer encouragement and kind words in the course of their business transactions!) He was such a handsome, kind, soft-spoken, older gentleman with sparkling eyes I couldn’t help but believe him. His kindness, compassion, empathy and my hope that he was right touched me and made me cry…all the way to my car.

And then the weirdest thing happened. As I got to my car, there sat a giant white dog that looked eerily similar to our dog Joe, our Yellow Lab who passed away last summer, barking and wagging his tail. Joe had such a deep, distinctive “Woof,” I could not believe a dog that looked, but especially sounded so much like Joe, was standing in a parking lot in the middle of downtown Salt Lake City, UT, at a time I was struggling and needed some cheering! Although for an instant it added to the brief wallowing I couldn’t help but let myself indulge in for a few moments, and made me miss my dog on top of missing my violin, my parents, my past and for a moment, every other thing I had lost, it actually cheered me up– the strangeness of things in my unexpected life!

“Expect the best. Prepare for the worst. Capitalize on what comes.”  (Zig Ziglar)

Thanks to my unexpected life, I’m doing that.

What Would My Parents Think?

Date: February 8, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

I had first called Mr. Prier last summer, but he was out of the country for awhile. Then school started, the holidays came and went, and finally in January 2011, he and I were both available to meet.

His assistant asked if I had a record of the purchase or knew exactly how much my parents had paid for the violin. Unfortunately, I had no documentation. I’d never even seen any. I asked if they maintained records. She told me they did, but maybe not back “that far” (almost 30 years ago.) She told me not to worry, that it made things a little quicker if I had paperwork, but that they could figure things out without it.

As the day of our meeting approached, I occasionally wondered how my parents would feel about what I was going to do. Then I’d put that thought out of my mind. They were dead, it probably didn’t matter to them. I just hoped they would know of my continued appreciation for all they did for me, including my gratitude that they had even bought me a really good violin to help me in my violin studies but that was also going to be a help to me in my unexpected life.

Two days before my meeting with Peter Paul Prier, I noticed a box under my bed. For some reason, I’d never noticed that box before. I didn’t know what was in it so I pulled it out, opened it, and my eyes were drawn to a folded piece of paper on top of the box’s miscellaneous contents. I opened the paper and about fell over when I saw what it was.

On the upper corner was a black, line drawing of a violin maker bearing an eery resemblance to Geppetto, the toy maker from “Pinocchio.” That folded piece of paper was the original receipt of my parents’ purchase of my violin in 1982! Don’t ask me how it came to be in my possession. I never even knew it existed, much less that it was in my possession–especially after my dad had died, my mom had moved four times after that, I’d moved three times and then lived through a government seizure and a very chaotic move to Utah, and I’d even had a house flood! But with that little miracle, I decided to take it as a sign my parents would understand my decision to part with my violin.

“When suffering comes, we yearn for some sign from God, forgetting we have just had one.” (Mignon McLaughlin)

 

A Table, A Chair, A Bowl of Fruit and a Violin

Date: February 6, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“The woman gets the ring–unless it’s an heirloom.” (Vanessa Lloyd Platt)

Or in my case, in the aftermath of a Ponzi scheme. You don’t get to keep your wedding ring if it’s an upgrade–and paid for with tainted (ie. stolen) money. Oh well. I only wished I could have had it to sell for cash to provide for my children anyway. But like I said, I did get to keep my violin.

Paid for in 1982 by Dr. Andrew H. and Sandra Christensen, a Colorado orthodontist and his wife, my parents, with money legally acquired straightening crooked teeth and turning them into beautiful smiles. They purchased my violin from a very well-known master violin maker named Peter Paul Prier, originally from Germany but living and operating a store and violin making school in Utah.

I had begun taking piano lessons when I was 7 years old and in 6th grade, at 11 years old, I began playing the violin. I tried it because all of the neighbor girls older than me were in orchestra and it seemed to be the thing to do, at a certain age, in Grand Jct., CO. Plus, it didn’t look that hard. I took to the violin pretty well. In my last year of junior high, I was asked to walk to the high school from my school and participate in their orchestra class and play with them. By high school, when every serious violinist seemed to be upgrading their violin for a better one, that seemed like the thing for me to do too. I mentioned it to my parents. And true to form, just like everything else in my life, they came through for me.

They checked around, learned Peter Paul Prier was THE place to get the best violins, and without telling me flew to Utah, made a purchase, returned home one evening and surprised me with my new violin! They told me it was a very good violin, that I needed to take care of it–and that if for some reason I ever needed to sell it someday I should return to Peter Paul Prier and sell it back to him. That’s what Mr. Prier had told them.

What my parents didn’t tell me, was that they’d paid $2000 for my violin.

I enjoyed playing my new violin. Things went without a hitch until the weekend the band room at my high school caught fire or was robbed (I can’t remember which) and I happened to admit, “Oh no! My violin was in there!” My parents almost had a heart attack. I got a lecture about taking care of valuable things, which I completely deserved, and I was on pins and needles all weekend and into Monday morning until I could get in to the school and discover that my violin was ok.

I grew up, went to college, got married, had children and eventually played my violin only on very rare occasions. But I held onto it for sentimental reasons and in case any of my children chose to develop that talent. And when my former husband’s Ponzi scheme was revealed, my violin was one of a few “valuable” items I was allowed to walk away with–thanks to my generous parents and their support of the development of my talents.

“A table, a chair, a bowl of fruit and a violin; what else does a man need to be happy?” (Albert Einstein)

After entering my unexpected life, my mom’s words from 1982 haunted me: “Mr. Prier told me to tell you that someday, if you ever need to sell your violin, take it back to him and he’ll buy it from you. It’s a good violin.”

I just NEVER imagined a day like that would come.

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.