Funny that "The Dude Abides" comes to mind now as I attempt a response to Oryoki Bowl's Open Call on divorce.  Chalk it up to my affection for Sam Elliott.  Probably doesn't have a damn thing to do with my former fifteen year marriage or this post, but with that said, I'll leave it.  It is my blog.  My story.  ("Aw look at me, I'm ramblin' again.")

 The Big Lebowski(C) Universal ( as posted by Mr. Bostern "The Dude Abides" YouTube)

Why Did We?

I know why I married you, but I'm not quite sure which event between us finally toppled our marriage.  In my mind, I dreamed we divorced a thousand times.  But why?  

We divorced  the afternoon you urged me to rush from my grandmother's funeral so you could meet another coach to discuss an upcoming game.

We divorced the week I was hospitalized, and you left our newborn son with your mom a few hours before you also disappeared for the next three days.

We divorced the day a woman told my sister that she'd met me the night before and that  she loved my long blonde hair.  

We divorced the birthday you forgot our date.  As you came walking up the drive in the wee hour's of the morning carrying a gift, I was sitting on the porch, waiting.

 We divorced when I cranked the chainsaw, and told you that I was going to practice carving on the legs of your new pool table.

We divorced when I cracked the bat while standing in the garage popping ceramic flys (household ceramics) at your head as you wobbled toward the door.

We divorced when I crashed my old station wagon into the side of your prize hog.  It took some skill to line up a wagon way larger than a hog.

We divorced when I chucked a double-boiler pot of chili into the kidney pool when you complained, "What if I'm not in the mood for chili?"

We divorced when I washed your last load of laundry after you'd bellyached if I would "focus more on the house and less on getting my degree," you'd have clean clothes.  You were right and you were dirty long after.

We divorced when I sledged all the jewelry you'd ever given me.  The next morning I awoke to the sound of a metal detector sweeping across our lawn at the hand of some buddy you'd hired in confidence.  Petty, that final collection.

 We divorced when you robbed the diamond from my engagement ring and pawned it without my knowledge by replacing my stone with a glass rock.

We divorced when a criminal broke into the basement.  I called you at your weekly card game and told you I was scared;  I'd called 911.  I told you I wanted you to stay on the line with me until the police arrived.  You  laughed and said, "poor crook's the one to be afraid," and asked me to "hold on while you completed your hand."

 We divorced when you put blue cheese dressing and chopped onions on my salad one too many times.

We divorced when you gave me "her"  first Valentine's card.

The final hour in court when my dreams finally came true, I wore a cream suit, polished my nails red, wore high heels, curled my dark hair, raised my right hand and said, "I do."  I liked the suit and besides, it fit better than the size 2 red "other" dress you once brought home as my gift.

And now, looking back years after the fact.  What do I think and why?  Well, Sam Elliot sums it far better than I:  "And it was a pretty good story, don't you think?  Made me laugh to beat the band.  Parts, anyway."  

Sam Elliot as The Stranger in The Big Lobowski. 

Scupper © 1/2011