Living Happily Ever After
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No Such Word

Date: January 25, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Coincidence is like a rubber band. Stretch it too far and it snaps.” (Roger Zelazny)

This may be a stretch, but consider this odd development from the history of my past.

I was visiting with an old friend recently and she asked me about a former mutual friend–she babysat him while he was growing up; I dated him in the 1980s. She said, “Hey, what is he up to? Do you keep in touch?”

I haven’t kept in touch with him. I mean, when someone tells you he loves you and you respond by telling him he doesn’t–because he is too young to feel that way (we were 19 years old), it makes things slightly less conducive to keeping in touch for awhile! But I figured enough time had passed for him to forget a little thing like that, so I promised to check on him and report back.

How do you find someone you haven’t spoken to for…22 years? In my world, Facebook. I’ve had some pretty good luck with it. (To date, finding my biological mother. I wish someone would sponsor a contest: “How Facebook Has Changed My Life.” I’d enter to win.) He had been a social guy, had played professional baseball, so I figured he’d be easy to find.

Wrong. No sign of him.

“That’s odd,” I thought. So I googled him. And I couldn’t believe what I saw.

What are the odds that you marry a man who perpetrates a Ponzi scheme, and at the same time he’s being prosecuted for his crime…a former boyfriend is ALSO being prosecuted for an investment scam?

“Who knows one person who commits a Ponzi scheme?” I wondered. “Much less, TWO people who perpetrate investment fraud?” Apparently, I do. What a strange and unexpected life mine is sometimes.

I was talking with my cousin shortly after that, laughing about the strangeness of the most recent development. She said, “Wait. I remember him. He was the really, really good looking baseball player, wasn’t he?”

“Yep, that’s the one, although he isn’t so good looking any more,” I replied.

“What?” she asked. “How do you know that?”

“I saw his mug shot,” I replied.

Note to anyone thinking of heading down that path: it’s not an attractive course to pursue in any way, shape or form. What crime is, the harm you inflict, going to prison, the toll it takes on your appearance, and everything else connected to breaking the law leaves nothing to be desired! (Not to mention the fact that dishonesty, and crime, is just plain wrong!)

“Martha Stewart showed up at Manhattan FBI Headquarters to have her finger prints taken and pose for a mug shot. Then Martha explained how to get ink off your fingers using seltzer water and lemon juice.” (Conan O’Brien)

M-U-G S-H-O-T.

Mug shots and men. Ponzi schemes and the past. Coincidence or just plain bad luck? I only know it is VERY unexpected! And that, “If there were no such thing as coincidence, there would be no such word.” (Heron Carvic)

A Perspective on Things I Never Thought I’d Learn

Date: October 22, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“There is not an issue that a woman cannot bring a perspective to.” (Eddie Bernice Johnson)

Speaking of perspective, here’s more of mine: Life teaches you lessons you don’t anticipate; you learn things you never, in your wildest dreams, imagine you will learn.

I’ve been exposed to things in my unexpected life I never expected–like crime, divorce, and prison. I’ve learned things I NEVER imagined knowing anything about! Like aspects of the justice system, jail and prison.

After my then-husband revealed his criminal activity to me on March 18, 2009, and told me he anticipated being incarcerated for 5-7 years, I could not wrap my head around any part of it. I’d never stolen so much as a grape from a grocery store without paying for it, and my husband had stolen millions of dollars and was heading to prison? I was shocked and in shock. I didn’t know everything it entailed or what was coming to any of us. I’d never known anyone in prison, anyone with a relative in prison and had never been involved in breaking the law beyond an occasional speeding ticket while driving. My only education about any of it came courtesy of Hollywood, and based on everything I’d ever seen about prisons in t.v. shows and movies, they seemed like the ultimate horror. And then the man I was married to told me he was heading to one.

What do you do when you find out your husband of 20 years is heading to prison? If you’re me, you worry and wonder. Then you google “jail” and “prison”, read and research and try to learn anything you can. That’s what I did anyway.

I tried to find out anything I could about prison and what to expect his living conditions, life, and incarceration experience would be. I didn’t have a lot of luck, as a law abiding citizen I didn’t even know where to look, but I did learn some new things. The little bit I found was just a tiny taste of what was to come. Despite everything he had done, and all his selfish choices had thrust upon his victims, me and my children, I was scared. For him. And that’s really all I knew of the prison experience until that day in late August 2009, when my former spouse went before a magistrate and was charged with a crime, pled “not guilty” to the charge and was taken into custody.

Besides his sentencing day last month, March 18, 2009, and July 13, 2009, that day was one of the worst for me.

I was at work all day in Utah, trying to get a lot done and keep busy with projects so I wouldn’t worry or wonder about what was happening in Denver, CO. I didn’t know what to expect, or how I would know what happened in court that day, since no one considered me a victim and I was no longer married to the criminal. I knew of no one who was going to get me word of what transpired, so I checked online media sources every hour or two throughout the day, anticipating something would be mentioned at some point. Yet as much as I had waited for it all morning, and expected it, I was still shocked when I entered the words “Shawn Merriman Ponzi” and up popped stories about the events of that day.

I sat there, at the computer monitor, frozen. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was real. (I still couldn’t believe it.) I really wasn’t going to wake up any time soon and discover I’d simply been experiencing the most real-feeling nightmare of my life. It truly was more than a bad dream. It was the worst of the unexpected life. The day I had anticipated for months had finally arrived and the wheels of justice were turning. I couldn’t believe a man I’d loved and lived with, and had chosen to be the father of my children, was actually going to prison. But somehow I kept it together; finished my work day; drove home to my children, and no one was the wiser about what had happened in my life that day.

Everything about that event made me sick to my stomach–the “last phone call” Shawn made to talk to someone, me, that morning before he headed to the courthouse and embarked on the rest of his journey and the additional consequences resulting from his crimes; reading an email he sent that a friend was driving him to the courthouse as he was “a bit distracted and didn’t want to drive himself;” seeing video of him walking through the glass revolving doors of the courthouse heading to his hearing; reading of a courtroom packed with victims and how “more than 20 of his alleged victims stood up and applauded…Most were smiling.” (Miles Moffat, denverpost.com, 8/20/2009)

I don’t know how I’d feel if someone took MY most important possession, any one of my children from me, so I don’t judge the actions of those in attendance that day as right or wrong. I simply offer my perspective that it made me sick to see others exult in the demise of another, regardless of what that person had done. I hoped within my heart that regardless of what the future held for me, I would always choose to be strong enough to refrain from exulting in the downfall of another.

It also bothered me to read about myself in the stories about Shawn Merriman. Despite the fact I repeatedly asked everyone involved not to mention me or my children, they always did. That day, the magistrate referenced my children and I in a confidential, pre-hearing document, so it became part of the record, and was reported. And of course the reports were never accurate. That day it was, “his wife and children have moved to Utah…” There was no “wife.” We were divorced! (You might have to be the innocent ex-wife of a criminal to understand my perspective–absolute distaste for anything attempting to link me to the man, the crimes he committed or the media coverage about any of it.)

It was a welcome relief to actually laugh at one thing I read: the part about how Shawn Merriman was considered a flight risk so he had been taken into custody at the courthouse. That wasn’t quite accurate either, but it did make for more drama in the reporting! The reality is that Shawn Merriman did not have a passport–that, and his guns, were taken from him immediately upon turning himself in to the authorities. He had no money. He had no vehicle. No family. Only a handful of friends. And nowhere to go. He wasn’t going anywhere but prison, and he certainly wasn’t a flight risk! In fact, as I understood it, it had been Shawn who requested he be taken into custody as he wanted to get the clock ticking on the time he had to serve.

Well, he got what he wanted. He was taken into custody. That day, the clock began ticking. And for the first time since 1989, I had no idea where Shawn Merriman was, or if he was even safe. He seemed to just drop off the face of the planet into the deep, dark recesses of the criminal justice system and a jail somewhere. I didn’t know where he had gone; I didn’t know where he had been taken. There was no way to contact him. I was afraid for him, not for the first time, since beginning my unexpected life.

His incarceration had begun.

“That hunger of the flesh, that longing for ease, that terror of incarceration, that insistence on tribal honour being obeyed: all of that exists, and it exists everywhere.” (Ben Kingsley)

With Change Comes…Shrek

Date: August 31, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Change is inevitable – except from a vending machine.” (Robert C. Gallagher)

Change is inevitable. The new level changed things, like disrupted Bachelor #5′s “schedule.” I saw him just three days later, instead of the usual week between dates. We went for a drive and then to a park to talk. In the middle of our conversation, he looked at me and asked, “By the way, when is your birthday?”

I replied, “August 25th.”

He didn’t respond the way I expected him to. Instead, his eyes got big and he said, “NO WAY! Did you google me or something?”

Did I google him? No! And I hadn’t even thought to. When I asked why he’d asked me such a thing, he replied, “August 25th is my birthday too!” I had known we had a lot in common. I just had no idea how much–even the same birthday! (Although mine was several years later, in case anyone hasn’t been paying attention. Lol.)

Our conversation continued. During the course of the evening, we covered a gamut of topics, including some shallow (I admit it) concerns I expressed. Bachelor #5 responded optimistically to every one of them.

I told him I thought he was too old for me. His response? “Don’t worry about it. You’ll be amazed at how 38 years old I can look with Botox and by covering the gray in my hair.”

I’d been told it is very characteristic for men to date “down” a decade when they’re single, especially after a divorce, and in my experience, that was true much of the time. Men in their 30s, dated women in their 20s. Men in their 40s, dated women in their 30s and so forth. I replied, “Well, if you look 38 years old, then you might want to date someone who is 38 years old–or even younger. You probably ought to consider that.” Bachelor #5 shook his head no and said, “I’ve found the age I want.”

So I brought up height. I told him I thought he was too short for me–that I had some really high heels I loved and wouldn’t be able to wear around him. He said, “How tall are you? I’m taller than you. Wear whatever shoes you want; I’ll be Tom Cruise, you can be Katie Holmes!” And he laughed.

I mentioned some other “issues” as well, but he had an upbeat answer for every one of them. He even told me he appreciated knowing exactly how I felt and exactly what I thought; he said he found it refreshing! (Not many men can say THAT.)

The final “issue” of the evening concerned his piano playing. We had different ideas about it. He thought it was a positive thing; I wasn’t so sure. Piano had always been my thing, I’d never shared it with any man. When I told him that, he looked at me in shock. In his experience, women enjoyed men who could play the piano (and sing), and there I was telling him it was a strike against him! He probably shook his head and thought, “I just can’t win with this woman.” But instead he said, “Never mind then! YOU can have the piano, I won’t play the piano any more. I’ll play the guitar!”

He played the guitar too?

I never knew that.

And in that moment it became clear to me. I was not just dating a grandpa, I was not spending time with simply a reformed Santa (thanks to his shave), and I was not just chatting with a very nice, patient, good man–I was dealing with Shrek! This man had layers. Every single time I was with him, I learned something new about him. And every time I did, it was something I liked. Quite a different experience from the dark and destructive revelations of 2009 that led to my divorce and unexpected life, when everything new thing I discovered was even worse than the revelation before it.

I was dating Shrek! I never expected that.

“Ogres are like onions…Onions have layers. Ogres have layers…You get it?” (“Shrek”)

I was beginning to.

An Aside: Not So Bad

Date: June 14, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Bachelor #1 suggested we go to a Halloween party/dance and that we go as a “couple” in matching costumes. His idea? He dress as Clark Kent, and I go as Lois Lane. Lois Lane?

Although I have one sister who lives Halloween practically all year long, and my other sister is an artist and creates amazing new costumes every year, I’ve never been that way. I’m not super creative when it comes to Halloween. I wasn’t even as a kid. I preferred to be a witch or a gypsy, something easy, and I was fine with that. It worked for me. Didn’t require a lot of thought or advance planning, and I’ve always liked the color black. (It worked so well, I even won a costume contest at my church halloween party in high school: “Sexiest Witch” or something like that–I didn’t even know churches gave awards in that category. However, I missed experiencing it in person, because I left in the middle of the party to go to a haunted house with a boy. When we returned to the party, I was surprised when my mom handed me my prize!)

Since I was living a very unexpected life, and a single life anyway, I agreed to be Lois Lane. I was living totally out of my comfort zone every minute of every day as it was. What was a mere Halloween challenge? But how to be Lois Lane? I didn’t have a clue.

Thanks goodness I work in marketing, with clever and creative younger men. I showed up at work one day, told them my dilemma, and within minutes not only had they googled Lois Lane and told me what to wear, they’d printed off some sample pictures I could copy my look from! (If I haven’t said it enough, I absolutely love the men I work with.)

So I was off to transform myself into Lois Lane. It was quite a change from my usual as Lois Lane had dark hair. So I found a dark wig and prepared other Lois Lane essentials…but first, had to be in charge of my congregation’s trunk or treat Halloween party–after working in another city all day. (Halloween 2009 was my most hectic, to say the least!)

I worked all day, drove home from work, helped round up my children and their costumes, my trunk or treat candy, my food assignments for the church party dinner, and headed to the church an hour early to decorate and get it ready. I did the church party for two hours and left at 8 p.m. to transform myself into Lois Lane. In the middle of my costume preparations, I had to run pick up my daughter from dance rehearsal so she could babysit for me. It was 25 minutes, roundtrip, I wasn’t completely transformed yet, and Bachelor #1 was due to arrive in 30 minutes. Racing to the dance studio, I hit road construction. (More delays.)

My heart and my mind were racing. (Like I said, I had a lot going on that night.) Finally, I was almost there. One last stoplight to wait through and I’d be at the dance studio, picking up my daughter, and heading home. The light turned green, I drove through the intersection, and the next thing I knew the lights of a policeman were flashing in my rear-view mirror. I couldn’t figure out who he was after, so I pulled over to get out of the way. To my surprise, he pulled up behind me and came to my car.

He asked if I knew why he had pulled me over.

I was stunned. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized he was after me! Oops.

I said I honestly had no idea. He told me I was driving without my lights on. WHAT? I felt like the biggest idiot. I’ve never been that technologically talented, or very good with cars, but I did think I knew how to turn the lights on. And according to my understanding of the car I’d been driving for the past few months, the lights were on. I tried to explain that to the policeman. He had me turn the lights on, I thought I was turning the lights on, then he would check the front of my car and tell me they weren’t on. (Can you imagine what an intelligent blonde he would have thought I was? Thank goodness I was wearing a dark wig! lol)

I was embarrassed and felt quite dumb. I explained I was newly single, and clueless about cars, and would he mind showing me how to turn the lights on in my car? (Wasn’t that lovely to have to ask when you’ve been driving and turning car lights on for 26 years without a problem–until you get divorced?) He laughed, fiddled around with the light switches and finally said, “Actually, I think BOTH of your light bulbs must be burned out, because I think your lights ARE on.” Whew. What a relief to know I had known how to turn my car lights on!

He then told me he’d pulled me over for another reason too. He said I’d sat through a very long red light, and then simply drove through the intersection when the green turn arrow turned green! A giant oops. I’d had no idea I’d done that. My mind must have been elsewhere–like on all of the things I had to rush to finish before “Superman” arrived. And there I sat feeling like an even bigger idiot in my Halloween costume–dressed as Lois Lane. I wondered what the cop was thinking. I soon found out.

He asked for my license and registration. I was getting a ticket. But as soon as I reached for my license and registration, I knew I was getting a lot more than that. I was pretty sure I was heading to jail!

It was a new car (to me), with temporary tags, so I had no registration yet. I didn’t remember that until the cop asked for it. I explained that situation–about buying the car in Colorado, moving to Utah, the paperwork getting delayed in Colorado, so Utah couldn’t issue my license plates yet, etc… He let that go, and asked, again, to see my driver’s license. I reached for my purse to get my driver’s license. And discovered in my rush, in the hectic frenzy of the night, I’d left the house without it. The cop told me he could look it up. But that’s when I realized I had another problem: as I’d recently moved to Utah, I hadn’t changed my Colorado driver’s license to Utah yet! I asked if he could look up a license in another state–Colorado–and explained that whole situation to the policeman. I’m not sure what he was thinking as he looked at me. I couldn’t tell if he was trying not to laugh or if he was reaching for the handcuffs. Thankfully, instead he looked at me, shook his head, and said, “Tell me, do you at least have insurance on your car?”

Finally, a question I could answer with proof! I was mortified that I was looking so incapable and incompetent (and stupid) but I handed the insurance card over to the cop and he walked away. I sat there in the dark, in a panic, that not only was I totally late and looking like a lunatic, but that I was going to get a ticket and would never be able to afford car insurance after that! I started feeling bleak indeed. Waiting that terrible wait (although thanks to the unexpected events of 2009, waiting for the ticket verdict wasn’t as terrible as it could have been as I’d had a few perspective-altering experiences much larger than that in 2009, but I was panicked about the cost of a ticket and the impact it would have on my insurance rates) I started feeling a bit bad for myself. I was doing all I could to support my family and be a good employee, I was serving my church, I was trying to get everyone to everything all by myself (and that night have a little fun myself) and now this. A traffic ticket as my reward.

The policeman returned to my car, smiled, told me to be careful and have a safe night. No ticket. I was one fortunate (and blessed) single mom that night.

I drove carefully away, in the dark, without headlights, picked up my daughter, finally got home and amazingly was ready just in time for Clark Kent!

We had a great time that Halloween. But what I remember most about that night was that I was starting to see my new and unexpected life was…not so bad.

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So Much For Anonymity

Date: May 20, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

We moved to Utah for a variety of reasons, the biggest being employment and that Utah is where things worked out for us to live. However, we had a few other motives too. Like the fact that it would be a clean break, a fresh start, and a chance to live where no one knew who we were, who we had once been related to or what we had just been through. Having had our brush with “celebrity,” not one of us was sad to leave the paparazzi behind!

But we had a few things NOT in our favor if we wanted to be completely anonymous. (And believe me, we were all so shell-shocked, that probably would have been our preference had we had a choice!)

Our first Sunday at church, our pastor asked for some personal information so he could request our church records from our previous congregation. I hesitated to give it to him so soon, wanting to make sure the divorce was final on church records so that my former spouse’s information was not transferred with ours. Although I hadn’t planned on it, I told the pastor a little of our situation to explain why I wasn’t ready to have him transfer our records yet. Poor man. He made an innocent phone call to get my birth date, and ended up knowing a LOT more than he was probably prepared to learn!

But that impulse to tell him our story when my plan had been to keep it quiet turned out to be a blessing. Less than a week after my conversation with my new pastor, he called to tell me it was good I’d told him my story; that a member of the congregation had come to him and told him he should google the new woman from Colorado who had moved in–that she had quite a story. He said, “Thank goodness you had told me. I was able to tell them I imagined you had moved here to start over and didn’t want everyone to know your past. I asked them to not share that information with others.”

So much for anonymity in the day of internet and search engines! lol.

On the bright side, I don’t know who the person was who googled me and shared it with the pastor, I never asked, but I never heard a word about my former life from anyone. To my knowledge, they honored the pastor’s request.

And then a few weeks later, after my former spouse had been taken into custody and placed in Colorado’s Jefferson County Jail, I opened the mailbox to find three letters from him. Mailed from jail. On the outside of each envelope, stamped in large letters, were the words “Uncensored Inmate Mail!” I looked down at what I was holding in my hand and all I could do was laugh! So much for anonymity. So much for a “fresh start!”

“This has been a learning experience for me. I also thought that privacy was something we were granted in the Constitution. I have learned from this when in fact the word privacy does not appear in the Constitution.” (Bill Maher)

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