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NOT Some Kind of Soft Drink

Date: October 28, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I can remember a reporter asking me for a quote, and I didn’t know what a quote was. I thought it was some kind of soft drink.” (Joe DiMaggio)

Something happened in my unexpected life I’ve been holding back on. I almost spilled the beans last month the day I blogged that something exciting was happening the next day. (In fact, Bachelor #5′s mom read that post and called him to ask if he was getting married the next day! Sorry, no. It actually had nothing to do with that.)

But I guess today is the day to share.

Last month, a reporter from NBC’s Channel 9 in Denver, CO, Cheryl Preheim, contacted me via email. She had found my blog, read it and wanted to talk to me. My first inclination was a resounding “No Way.” But, in true Andrea Merriman style, I read on anyway. And then I re-read the whole email. And then read it again.

Cheryl told me she was interested in my story from the perspective of my children and helping them through our challenge. She told me about her family, her children and her philosophy of life and motherhood. (Mothers know the way to other mother’s hearts, don’t they?) She said all the right things; and for some reason, I believed her. I was wary but warming to the idea of talking to her.

I turned to my trusty co-workers for advice. They are sharp, smart good men who haven’t led me astray in the 15 months I’ve known them. The comment I remember most came from our Emmy-winning film guy who said, “You’ve worked with media, you know reporters are never your friend.” So I googled Cheryl Preheim to find out what I could. I thought about it. And then I responded to her email.

We talked on the phone, emailed, got to know one another and…I liked her. I trusted her. (Can you believe after all of the lies and deception by someone so close to me I still trust people? But I do.) I had a good feeling about her and what she wanted to do. So we made a plan to meet.

She and a very nice cameraman named Ken flew to Utah and spent a day with my children and me. They were kind, generous and respectful of our family. They were easy to talk to. They became our friends. We were nothing showy or impressive, but they sat around our kitchen table and ate dinner with us anyway–and filmed my 5-year-old eating hot dogs and chips. I begged Ken not to show the unhealthy meal I was serving my young son, so he graciously zoomed in on the carrots my son WASN’T eating! We opened our home, our lives and our hearts to Cheryl and Ken and in the end, were so sorry to see them go.

After they left, I gathered my children together and asked them what they thought and how they felt. They said, “It was fun. They were nice.” It was a positive experience for them.

I was struck by it for different reasons.

The interview brought everything full circle for me. I’ve thought about my experiences, I’ve written about them, but I’ve never verbalized any of it on record. It was also eye opening to see how far we all have come. I observed my children objectively, and I realized they seem completely normal. Healed. The smiles and the laughter are real. (As are the bad manners, unfortunately!) I feel like it was the final chapter to this portion of the unexpected life that was thrust upon us last year.

Afterward, all I could think was, “It was unexpectedly fun and positive, a good experience for me and my children. And I REALLY like Cheryl Preheim. She is a good woman. A genuine person. A caring human being out to make a positive contribution to the world. A friend.” (Not to mention the fact she’s a talented reporter and a great writer.) Regardless of the outcome of putting myself out there, I stand by that.

And now I’m looking forward to seeing what she has done with my story.

Tonight. On NBC’s Channel 9. In Denver, CO.

I just wish I’d had time to have my hair done. Lose 20 pounds. Or maybe get a little Botox.

“I wish my name was Brian because maybe sometimes people would misspell my name and call me Brain. That’s like a free compliment and you don’t even gotta be smart to notice it.” (Mitch Hedberg)

Lemonade That’s Real

Date: October 27, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“We are living in a world today where lemonade is made from artificial flavors and furniture polish is made from real lemons.” (Alfred Newman)

When my ex-husband went to prison, I told him I hoped he used the time to learn what he needed to learn; to grow and change in the ways he needed to; and that I hoped he chose to make the best of the experience, whatever it might be. In other words, make lemonade. Even in prison.

I LOVE lemonade, but it’s also how I believe in living life. However, the fact it has to be easier said than done in prison is not lost on me. I knew what I was asking of him. So lest I have painted too rosy a portrait of prison, let me share some reality.

About his environment he wrote, “This is such a harsh place. There is nowhere to go for peace. Nowhere to be alone or even escape the constant barrage of foul language. Just for kicks one day I decided to count the number of cuss words I heard in a single hour–I stopped at 1200! It is a daily onslaught from which there is no escape. I think we have every kind of degenerate scum bag in this place. Every day I wake up refreshed, feeling clean, and by the end of the day I feel like I just can’t take the filth any more. A deputy summed it up this way: ‘I view my pay not as income, but as worker’s compensation, because every time I come through that door I feel millions of brain cells commit suicide.’ It’s the shallow end of the gene pool to be sure but there are a few gems in here, and I consider myself to be blessed with the friends I have here.”

Rather than dwell on the negative, I was happy to see he focused on his daily routine and tried to make the best of his situation. He kept busy exercising, playing games, tutoring men for the G.E.D., reading, writing, making friends and trying to make the most of his incarceration. Not bad lemonade, especially for prison.

“When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. I have several stands around here.” (James Brady)

You can make lemonade wherever you are. All you need is lemons (abundant in the challenges and trials of life), water (which is everywhere) and a little sugar supplied by you–the way you choose to look at things and rise above them, the blessings you acknowledge and are grateful for, the positive things you focus on and the happiness you choose to create from your fruit regardless of where it comes from.

Make the best of what you have, regardless of how sour it is, and somewhere along the way the bitterness is overpowered by the sweet. It happens every time.

Lemonade.

Find Something to Be Grateful For

Date: October 26, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“The thing I’m most thankful for right now is elastic waistbands.” (Author Unknown)

Thanksgiving is coming; the season of turkey and expandable clothing. I can’t miss the signs of its approach: A local grocery store gives coupons for discounts on turkeys every time you shop. My sister called to discuss our family Thanksgiving plans. It has all reminded me of last Thanksgiving–my first Thanksgiving as a single mother; and of course, the year all of my siblings were destined to spend the holiday with their in-laws.

A part of me wished I could magically skip over the holiday and not have to face it. The “firsts” are always tough. But the single working mother part of me looked forward to the opportunity to spend four days in a row with my children. Thankfully, a wonderful friend and her family, mother and siblings invited my little family to share the day with them. They really took us under their wing and made us feel a part of their family. It was comforting, and feeling as alone as we felt in some ways, it was wonderful to feel a part of a crowd.

It was a perfect holiday for us; we were able to experience Thanksgiving and feel gratitude for our blessings without being overwhelmed by our losses. In fact, my children said it was their best Thanksgiving ever.

One thing I loved was the opportunity after the meal for each individual to express one thing they were grateful for. I was particularly struck by how many husbands and wives chose to share their gratitude for each other publicly. It touched me and inspired me. It gave me hope that all of that might again be mine someday…if I endured and didn’t give up too soon on the singles scene.

It was also the time I learned yet another new fact about life on “the inside.”

Did you know prison inmates bless their meal at Thanksgiving?

Yes, it’s true, despite the fact Hollywood has been remiss in portraying it. I’ve been told there are two days of the year inmates offer a blessing on the the food as a group: Thanksgiving and Christmas. Last year, my ex-husband was asked to say the blessing on the food in his jail.

He wrote: “Today is Thanksgiving and 70 men asked me to bless the food. I asked one of the inmates why they chose me and he replied, ‘Because we see you reading the bible and your Book of Mormon and praying every day. We asked you because you are doing it, not just talking about it.’”

He blessed the food as asked and later that evening, offered a toast: “Thanksgiving is almost over. I made a hot cocoa and did a toast to our kids. I miss them more than you can possibly imagine.”

Last year reminded me that no matter you’ve lost, no matter where you are in your unexpected life and no matter where you reside, you can always (and should always) find something to be grateful for and express your gratitude for it.

“The hardest arithmetic to master is that which enables us to count our blessings.” (Eric Hoffer, “Reflections On The Human Condition”)

But it’s also the most rewarding.

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.

Edward Eyes

Date: October 20, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I have looked into your eyes with my eyes. I have put my heart near your heart.” (Pope John XXIII)

I don’t know how it is for all divorced, single women, but I can tell you how I felt and what I thought.

I couldn’t believe it had happened to me. I was a in a bit of shock at the events that led to my divorce and the fact that I was divorced. My divorce hadn’t happened in what I imagined were the typical ways–we had never fallen out of love, become indifferent to one another, fought with each other or hated each other. It wasn’t a downward spiral leading to a break-up. The necessity for a divorce came in one day, out of the blue.

My feelings of self worth suffered. I walked around, sure that all eyes were on me, that everyone knew I was single, that everyone probably thought I’d done something wrong to end up that way and that people either pitied me or thought I was a loser.

I was filled with grief that a marriage had ended and an intact family unit had been destroyed.

I felt the marriage that ended had been my one marriage, my one chance at having a husband or being married, and that I was destined to be alone the rest of my life.

But at the same time, my divorce didn’t destroy my belief in the institution of marriage or in the purpose of families; I remained a fan of both. I remember sitting in church one day a month or two after my divorce became final and the Sunday School lesson was on marriage. I sat there, listening, as I always had when a woman sitting next to me leaned over and whispered, “I’m sorry. Is this hard for you?” No, I answered, and I meant it. It hadn’t dawned on me to sit there and feel bad for myself or mope about what I didn’t have.

However, as a single woman, there were certain things I noticed.

I noticed every wedding ring on every man’s finger. My husband had never worn a wedding ring, and although it had never bothered me or been an issue for us (due to my dad’s profession, he hadn’t worn one either, so I didn’t grow up with the expectation that married men should wear wedding rings) I began to appreciate them–after I was single.

I noticed young couples in love, particularly the way they looked at each other, specifically the way the young men looked at the young ladies. I couldn’t help but see it, probably because I’d been told my spouse hadn’t looked at me in years prior to our divorce. Somehow along the way, I decided I wanted that for myself someday.

Some people look for money. Some people choose a mate based solely on chemistry, intellect, physical appearance or personality. I decided, among other things, I was going to hold out for a man who looked at me with “the look.” I didn’t want a relationship where my husband spent year looking at the tip of my nose again.

Enter Bachelor #5.

He told me he’d marry me tomorrow if I were willing; I was slower than he was to come to that decision. I had a lot of observing and investigating to do before I committed myself. And one of the things I was checking out was “the look.” Did he look at me that way?

I wasn’t sure.

It was time to find out.

One night I sat nose to nose with Bachelor #5. I directed him to look at me. He laughed and told me he couldn’t, things were too blurry to see that close up! I explained he didn’t need to see me, I just needed to see the way he looked at me. He shook his head, teased me about trying to live a teenage fantasy in my 40s and holding out for something that doesn’t exist in real life, but he had the good grace to look me in the eyes anyway.

For a second or two, as I looked into his warm, brown eyes, I wasn’t sure what I saw. Then before I could decide, he opened his eyes as wide as he could, gazed intently into mine, raised his eyebrows (to the point he was looking a little like a zombie) and asked, “Can you see it? I’m looking at you with my best Edward eyes. Do you see my Edward eyes?”

I told you he gets me.

He’s not even a Twilight fan, but he somehow knew what I was thinking, what I was looking for, and at least jokingly, tried to be that for me.

Just one more reason I finally decided it was time. Why I said, “Yes.” And why we’re still…engaged.

“We are all a little weird and life’s a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.” (Author Unknown)

It’s all part of the unexpected life.

The Look of Love

Date: October 19, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“When your world is full of strange arrangements
And gravity won’t pull you through
You know you’re missing out on something…
Yes one thing that turns this gray sky to blue
That’s the look, that’s the look, the look of love…
Who’s got the look? I don’t know the answer to that question.
Where’s the look? if I knew I would tell you
What’s the look? look for your information…
That’s the look, that’s the look, the look of love…
That’s the look, that’s the look, Be lucky in love
Look of Love.”
(ABC, “The Look of Love” lyrics, by Martin Fry, David Palmer, Steve Singleton, and Mark White)

I danced to that song in the 80s. And I guess I took “the look” for granted. I assumed everyone looked at their love with “the look of love.” It took my unexpected life to show me that isn’t always the case.

Just prior to my entire world falling apart, I saw the first of the “Twilight” movies and was particularly struck by the way Edward looked at Bella. I don’t know if everyone else noticed it, but I sure did, and it made me feel a little crazy: forty-something woman struck by the way an actor portraying a vampire simply LOOKED at another character in a story geared toward teenage girl fantasies and dreams of love and romance! I didn’t know why I noticed that specific aspect of the fictional relationship and why it had such an impact on me. Until March 18, 2009.

That day my then-husband, Shawn Merriman, sat me down and shattered my world. To anyone just joining us, that was the day he revealed his investment company, Market Street Advisors, was “a sham;” that he had been running a Ponzi scheme for 15 years; that he had already turned himself in to government authorities and anticipated being charged with crimes in the next week and incarcerated within the next 30 days for approximately the next 5-7 years; that all of our assets, money, home, vehicles and possessions had been seized by the government; and that I would be left alone to parent, provide for, and raise our four children.

That was also the day I realized why I found Edward’s intense look at Bella so compelling.

As part of his confession, my then-spouse expressed the guilt and shame he had lived with during the entire course of his Ponzi scheme. He felt so bad about what he had done, and so guilty, he said it became difficult for him to even look at me. “I haven’t looked you in the eye in years,” he revealed.

WHAT?

I argued with that. We had laughed, talked, joked, communicated and discussed things, ate dinner together, prayed together, interacted on a daily basis and lived as a happy, loving couple, married and raising our family for 20 years. He had looked at me all of the time! At least I’d thought he had. It seemed like he had. I was about to learn Shawn Merriman’s biggest deception of all relative to his life of crime.

It wasn’t the lies he’d told day in and day out, as he’d come home from work and report the usual business-related events of the day like all husbands do, conversations he’d had with this person or that client, stocks he had bought or sold. I found out he hadn’t bought or sold any stocks in years.

It wasn’t the fraudulent monthly statements he created and mailed to every investor, including me, each month. I found out he made all of those up.

It wasn’t the hypocrisy he exemplified to our children and the rest of the world, preaching one way of living and secretly choosing to practice another.

It was the way he had looked at me. Or intentionally had not looked at me.

He explained, “No, you only THINK I’ve looked at you. But I haven’t. Not once. I have looked at the tip of your nose every single time I’ve looked at you, and when I do that, you think I’m looking at you and can’t tell I’m not looking at you, but I promise you, I haven’t looked in your eyes in years.”

How long?

Most of our children had been born during the years he hadn’t looked me in the eye. I couldn’t count the number of events we’d shared, the memories we’d made and the daily expressions of love he had uttered to me…all while never looking at me. And I’d never even seen it. I had never known.

How could I not have been able to see that my husband was looking only at the tip of my nose instead of my eyes? How did no one else notice he didn’t look them in the eye either? And actually, how did I never know there were people out there who intentionally didn’t look people in the eye?

In a way, it was a fitting end to a relationship that came to a screeching halt due to crime, betrayal and other wrongs perpetrated by one man.

“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next.” (Gilda Radner)

The Ants Have It

Date: October 18, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“It seems to me that in the matter of intellect the ant must be a strangely overrated bird. During the many summers, now, I have watched him, when I ought to have been in better business, and I have not yet come across a living ant that seemed to have any more sense than a dead one. I refer to the ordinary ant, of course; I have no experience of those wonderful Swiss and African ones which vote, keep drilled armies, hold slaves, and dispute about religion. Those particular ants may be all that the naturalist paints them, but I am persuaded that the average ant is a sham.” (Mark Twain)

Back in 2009, as my marriage, life and everything I had known crumbled around me, I felt like an ant trying to hold up The Great Wall of China all by myself. Yet despite my herculean effort to get out of bed every day, face shocking revelations and realizations, and more bad news, pick up the pieces and attempt to put anything together, everything fell down around me, destroyed, anyway. Those were the days.

In some ways, Mark Twain might have been right about ants. Life as an “ant” is certainly not all that it’s cracked up to be all of the time. But thank goodness they don’t quit!

In my experience, ants are master builders and hard workers. They power through the dull and even the most daunting of tasks. And emulating all of that is what it takes to get you through the unexpected life!

Because, “Whatever good things we build end up building us.” (Jim Rohn)

That is absolutely true of life, especially the unexpected one.

What’s Your Language?

Date: October 12, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“French is the language that turns dirt into romance.” (Stephen King)

For anyone as clueless as I was, let me teach you about communication. The language of love, to be exact.

Although I had a happy marriage for 20 years (until it ended due to the criminal activity of Shawn Merriman and the Ponzi scheme he perpetrated) knowledge of the language of love is something I was never privy to–until I became single.

When I was single the first time, in the 1980s, I remember the basic questions every guy asked when you met him: What’s your name? Where are you from? What’s your major? The next time I was single, last year in 2009 and in 2010, the questions had changed to: How long were you married? Why did you get divorced? What’s your love language?

Twenty years. That’s complicated and a long story, but here goes. My WHAT?

Maybe I’m the only married woman who was never in touch with her language of love, because she didn’t realize there was such a thing, but there’s actually a book about it called “The 5 Love Languages” by Gary Chapman. The men I dated introduced me to it. After a few dates, I could converse with men about it and answer their question, although I’d never read the book. (I waited until after I got engaged to Bachelor #5 to read the book. Cross another item off my list of over 30 things I need to accomplish before I marry. Now I think I’ve achieved…three!)

Just wanted to give you a heads up about what you’re going to need to know if you’re going to live an unexpected single life today. You’ve got to know about it so you can not only answer the preliminary dating questions you’ll be asked, but so you can communicate with the single people you socialize with. The married people I’ve introduced to it have found it interesting, as well, so…what’s your language?

“I personally believe we developed language because of our deep inner need to complain.” (Jane Wagner)

Bachelor #5 And The Pinky Swear

Date: October 8, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“To pinky swear (in some regions referred to as the pinky promise) is when two people entwine their pinky fingers…to signify that a promise has been made…Traditionally, the pinky swear is considered binding and tantamount to a handshake in terms of sealing a deal. The pinky swear originally indicated that the person who breaks the promise must cut off their pinky finger…The pinky swear signifies a promise that cannot be broken or counteracted by the crossing of fingers, the “I take it back” or any other trickery.” (WIkipedia)

The September wedding date wasn’t going to work.

I informed my children. They seemed disappointed, except for my oldest. He looked worried and advised, “Don’t push it off too far, Mom, or he’ll lose interest and dump you!” (Have I mentioned how much I appreciate the confidence my children have in my ability to hold the interest of a man? Lol.)

My son was apparently very concerned that pushing back the date meant Bachelor #5 wasn’t going to follow through with marrying his mother.

When I told Bachelor #5 about that conversation he laughed and offered to “pinky swear” promise to marry me in January, and told me not to worry, he ALWAYS keeps his pinky swear promises!

I’m pretty sure I know four children who plan to hold him to that.

“Broken promises don’t upset me. I just think, why did they believe me?” (Jack Handy)

Lives

Date: October 7, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“A woman hath nine lives like a cat.” (Proverb)

Someone joked with me that I’ve lived many lives. As soon as I thought about it, I realized they were right:

I lived my childhood life, prior to 1986, when my dad died unexpectedly in a plane crash.

I lived my young adult years, another life, as the daughter of a widowed, single mother.

I got engaged, married, and lived my adult life as the wife of Shawn Merriman, married without children.

I also lived my life as the wife of Shawn Merriman, married with children; a stay-at-home mother.

It seemed like another lifetime, but was really only four months, when I lived a life as the legal wife of Shawn Merriman; filing divorce paperwork and waiting as the request to dissolve my marriage was finalized, wrapping up the details of my old life, and trying to prepare for my new and unexpected one as a result of the crimes and Ponzi scheme my husband, unbeknownst to me, had perpetrated.

I lived another life as a divorced, single mother of four children, working full-time.

And then I got engaged to Bachelor #5. He suggested we marry in September. It seemed so sudden.

I wrote a list of everything I needed to accomplish before a wedding. There were 32 items on my list. Nearly three months later I looked at my list. I had completed just two of 32 tasks (neither of which was a dress to wear when I married or any other wedding detail) and the September deadline was looming. Add to that some delays we couldn’t negotiate and work around, and Bachelor #5 and I realized September wasn’t going to be a month we heard wedding bells pealing in our behalf.

Lets just say marrying in your 40s, blending eight children and two families, combining two adult lives, and everything else that is part of a remarriage is slightly more complicated (and takes a lot more time) than getting married when you’re young, carefree…and in your 20s!

The good news? As Bachelor #5 pointed out, “There won’t be ANYTHING we don’t know about each other by the time we finally marry. There won’t be ANY surprises!” (I love that he was looking for the good in the situation, by the way.) But he was right.

We’ve had some interesting engagement adventures for sure. Stay tuned. You see, September has come and gone. And although I hate to ruin the story I must confess: I’m not married yet. My engagement to Bachelor #5 seems to be lasting its own lifetime! Add it, as another life, to my list. Seven lives so far and I’m only 43 years old.

At this point, I’m hoping women actually have MORE than the nine lives cats are reputed to enjoy.

Because thanks to my unexpected life, I think I’m going to need them.

Aren’t we all?