Because I Can… the random thoughts of Marc Scott

As a divorced man who has had nothing but unsuccessful attempts to return into the world of dating in the past 2 years, it would seem that when it comes to women, and more specifically relationships, I have much to learn.  I’m not opposed to working on this education.  I feel confident saying that God has taught me many things in the season that’s passed since my divorce.  I’ve reflected on things I did right.  I’ve reflected on things I’ve done wrong.

While looking for a file on my computer this afternoon, I came across a clip from my days in Peterborough.  I used to be the morning guy at KAOS 99.5.  This clip is from February 8 2006.  As I listened to it I confess, I laughed.  A lot.  To create a sense of context for the clip, it’s morning radio and I was goofing around trying to get a reaction out of my co-host.  Did I ever!  If only you could have seen her face.  Priceless!  Then one of the other girls in the station burst into the studio as well because she wanted to have her say.  It was probably one of those “had to be there” moments.  Nevertheless, I laughed.  I’m sarcastic like that.

Listening to this clip, and looking back on all that’s transpired in my life since, as in… divorce… it’s clearly evident that I should leave the Dr Phil stuff to Dr Phil and just stick with radio! :P

Being divorced, even 2 years later, I still, from time to time, reflect back on my marriage and wonder where things may have went wrong.  I don’t know that you can ever truly pinpoint it down to a single event or moment.  It’s easy, I suppose, to look back and think “if only I had done this” or “if I had just said that” or “if I had handled this situation differently” maybe, just maybe, things would have turned out differently.  One could drive himself mad with such logic though.

I can say this, however.  There are lessons learned.  That’s for certain.  Should Cupid ever target me with his bow again, I will be better prepared.  Can anything good come of divorce?  Education, perhaps, is the only thing one can hope for.  Education comes in many different forms.  It’s come from experience.  It’s come from thought and reflection.  It’s come from wisdom passed down from others.  And, in the case of an email I received this evening, it can even come in an unexpected place.  Education on marriage, can even come from a child.

1. HOW DO YOU DECIDE WHO TO MARRY?
You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like, if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the chips and dip coming. Alan, age 10

No person really decides before they grow up who they’re going to marry.. God decides it all way before, and you get to find out later who you’re stuck with. Kristen, age 10

2.  WHAT IS THE RIGHT AGE TO GET MARRIED?
Twenty-three is the best age because you know the person FOREVER by then.
 Camille, age 10

3.  HOW CAN A STRANGER TELL IF 2 PEOPLE ARE MARRIED?
You might have to guess, based on whether they seem to be yelling at the same kids.
 Derrick, age 8

4.  WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR MOM AND DAD HAVE IN COMMON?
Both don’t want any more kids. 
Lori, age 8

5. WHAT DO MOST PEOPLE DO ON A DATE?
Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know each other. Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough. 
Lynnette, age 8

On the first date, they just tell each other lies and that usually gets them interested enough to go for a second date. 
Martin, age 10

6.  WHEN IS IT OKAY TO KISS SOMEONE?
When they’re rich. 
Pam, age 7

The law says you have to be eighteen, so I wouldn’t want to mess with that.  Curt, age 7

The rule goes like this: If you kiss someone, then you should marry them and have kids with them. It’s the right thing to do. 
Howard, age 8

7. IS IT BETTER TO BE SINGLE OR MARRIED?
It’s better for girls to be single but not for boys. Boys need someone to clean up after them. Anita, age 9

8. HOW WOULD THE WORLD BE DIFFERENT IF PEOPLE DIDN’T GET MARRIED?
There sure would be a lot of kids to explain, wouldn’t there? 
Kelvin, age 8

And the #1 Favorite is………

9. HOW WOULD YOU MAKE A MARRIAGE WORK?
Tell your wife that she looks pretty, even if she looks like a dump truck . Ricky , age 10

It wasn’t quite a year ago when I last walked through the doors of the Mandarin.  There are two reasons for that.  First and foremost, it’s stinking expensive, and us common folk can’t afford those kind of fine dining experiences but once in a blue moon.  Second, I have little to no self control when presented with such a plentiful buffet, and tend to eat myself sick.

The occasion a year ago was a sad one.  Family and a few friends gathered after the funeral service for my Grandma.  I say sad not because of the funeral, but sad for the workers of the Mandarin because, sadly, they had no idea what was about to hit them!  I wouldn’t say we’re rowdy.  There is no drinking or carrying on.  We may be a little messy, perhaps a little too country for the big city buffet.  We also make sure to get our monies worth.  That’s a gentle way of saying each of us individually eats enough for all of us collectively.  I assure you, no profit is made when my family, as a whole, enters such an establishment.

My two little cousins are bit older now.  So that was good.  In the past it was customary to request a mop and bucket to be left at our table on standby.  I also kid you not, on one particular night out, we went through every waitress in the restaurant because each one of them couldn’t handle the continuous clean up and would pass us off to the next.  You may hear a rumor that it had more to do with each one of them wanting to check me out, but I assure you that is a flat out lie!  People were simply in denial about how messy our table really was that night.

As we wrapped up our dinner at the Mandarin we got our traditional fortune cookies.  I have yet to fully grasp the concept of the fortune cookie.  To this point, no cookie has ever brought me fortune.  I don’t give up hope though.  Maybe one day Confucius will hit the nail or the head, or my lucky numbers will really be lucky.  Or, maybe one day I’ll just call the telephone number in the small print and ask them who comes up with these things.  I digress.  On this particular August day, having recently been served with divorce papers, my fortune said the following, “You are doomed to be happy in wedlock.”

Can I ask you something?  What does that even mean?  Doomed to be happy?  Is that like when you have a friend who is large, and you nickname him Tiny?  I mean, “doomed” and “happy” are not words that I would typically place together with each other in that kind of sentence.  Nevertheless, I was amused by the irony of the timing.  Truthfully, I was feeling doomed alright.  Doomed to be alone, sad, broken and single… FOREVER!  I was feeling anything but doomed to be happy in wedlock.

Today I went on one of my spontaneous road trips.  Along the way I picked up my dad and took him to the Mandarin.  It was his Father’s Day gift.  A little late I know, but we haven’t been able to sync our schedules until today.  It was a good time.  Less mess.  Table for two.  As always, I ate myself to the point of ralphing.  It was good though.  No complaints.  Steak.  Chicken.  Shrimp.  Crab Legs.  And yes mom… lots of veggies!  Green beans, mushrooms, broccoli, carrots, peas.  A little bit of everything.

As expected, we got our fortune cookies at the end of the meal.  And, as always, I waited for the brilliant pearl of wisdom, truth, or revelation that was just waiting to be released.  I cracked the cookie, anticipation swelled up inside me as I removed the printed treasure inside.  As I began to read it, I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry.  ”You are doomed to be happy in wedlock.”

It’s amazing how much can change in a year.  My outlook being one of those things.  A year ago, as I read those words, I focused on “doomed.”  Today though, I focused on “happy in wedlock.”  Is it a coincidence that I got the exact same fortune almost 1 year later?  More than likely.  This time around though, it felt less like the end or something, and more like a second chance and a new beginning.

I fear women.  There.  I said it.  Sadly, I don’t feel any better.  I was sure that getting such a revelation off my chest would lift the burden of fright that I’ve been shouldering for so long.  It didn’t work.  Perhaps I must go deeper?

I’m not afraid of all women.  I love my grandma.  I think she is great.  She taught me about Hamburger Helper spread over a bed of mashed potatoes!  How can you not have a deep and profound love for a woman that teaches you that?  I love my mom too.  I used to fear my mom.  But that’s because she chased me with wooden spoons and spatulas.  That might have something to do with a disorder I had as a child that caused conflicts and errors in judgment between my mouth and my brain, but I’m not sure.  Now my mom and I get along great.  She doesn’t chase me with kitchen utensils anymore.  That’s not to say that she wouldn’t if I had one of those accidental verbal slips, but I think I’m mostly healed of that.

There are a lot of other woman that I’m not afraid too, I suppose.  I’m not afraid of the lady that cuts my hair.  And lets be honest, if there is any woman to be afraid of, it’s one holding a sharp object the thickness of your skull away from your brain.  She could damage me, no doubt.  But she seems sweet enough.  Quite friendly, somewhat conversational. I like her quite well.

I don’t fear a lot of the women on TV or in the movies either.  That’s because they’re all not real.  They’re figments of my imagination.  Or their imagination.  Or some writer or producers imagination.  I’m not exactly sure which, but they’re definitely not real.  I mostly don’t fear things that aren’t real.

The women I fear are very real.  They are typically about my age.  I’d say, overall, they fall in the age range of 25 – 32, give or take a year or two depending on the circumstances.  There is nothing that would be traditionally frightful about them either.  They have warm, inviting smiles.  The kind that asks for you to notice them and say hello.  Their hair shines, and waves and captivates me.  As it flutters in the breeze, I follow it to the brink of hypnosis.  They have eyes of sky blue or fairway green or earthy brown.  When you look into them, it’s like a window into their thoughts, their soul, their dreams.  I get lost.  I forget who I am, and what I want to say.  In the same moment, I’m grateful to be a man, and yet, embarrassed by myself entirely.

It’s easy to stand at a safe distance and appreciate a woman.  I don’t mean this in a vulgar, sexual way either.  Sadly, that is the general practice of much of my gender, and it hurts my heart to witness it.  I, on the other hand, mean it more in the way you appreciate a rose for it’s bold color, sweet scent and graceful beauty.  Woman is, in my opinion, God’s finest creation.  Like that rose, they catch my attention.

My life would be, in some ways, much easier, if I could collect my thoughts, construct intelligent, complete sentences, and generally not fall all over myself in the presence of a lady.  I am awed by the beauty of a rose.  Yet, I don’t need to speak to it to truly enjoy it.  Therein lies the biggest difference between the lady and the rose.  This also explains why I spend my free time taking pictures of flowers!

I suppose it’s not really as complicated as I make it out to be in my head.  It’s not good for me to be alone.  It’s in these times of solitude and reflection that I begin to over-think it all.  In the midst of that, I think myself right out of the ability to be comfortable and confident in the presence of a lady.  I’d like to believe that it’s not a confidence issue, though, if I’m being honest, it may be.  Mostly, it’s just about standing before this elegant creature and wanting to do the moment justice.

I didn’t date much before I got married.  I wasn’t overly big on the whole concept.  As a gentleman, I believe it’s my God given duty to protect the heart of a lady, and I didn’t feel I could do that by randomly taking pieces of the hearts of whichever girls grabbed my fancy at the time.  As a divorcee, a piece of my own heart was taken, and I’ve spent nearly two years healing.

The idea of dating in this new post divorce existence of mine is, unquestionably, the most terrifying thing I’ve ever faced.  I know it doesn’t need to be.  I know if I’d just relax, it would likely be a lot easier.  I feel so clueless though.  A lot has changed since I last dated.  A lot!  Women have evolved.  Men have evolved.  The “rules” of relationships have evolved.  I’m not sure how an old fashioned, hopeless romantic kind of guy fits into the equation now.

It’s a strange and mysterious place I find myself in.  A place where I appreciate and respect the creation that is woman, and yet, fear it, while at the same time, I journey towards, what I hope will one day be, a wife, a family, a second chance a love.  I have to remind myself, over and over it seems, that it really all comes down to boys talking to girls, and I started doing that in kindergarten.  It’s funny to me though, that 25 years later, I’m still struggling to piece together intelligent, complete sentences!

I was asked an interesting question the other day.  “If you could have 3 wishes what would they be?”  It’s not an uncommon question I suppose.  No doubt it’s something we’ve all pondered a time or two.  I mean, Aladdin is one of my favorite Disney movies.  It just seemed an odd question at the time.  Far more reaching than an impersonal discussion about the weather or the Blue Jays or the Stanley Cup Finals.

I couldn’t offer an immediate answer.  I decided such a question was too important to simply respond to off the cuff.  Although such an occurrence is unlikely to ever happen, truth be told, I own no lamp for a genie to even inhabit, I wanted to make sure I was prepared with a solid answer.  You know.  Just in case.

After a great deal of thought, and there may or may not have been a list written on paper – I’ll never tell – I decided I had come up with my 3 wishes and 1 solid alternate.  I give them to you now.

I was so excited about getting married.  A wife.  A house.  A dog.  Eventually some kids.  I wanted it all.  I was ready for it all.  I nearly got there.  Then one day a delivery came, and inside the envelope was a notice of divorce.  The dream died that day.  In that moment.  It took a long time before I ever even questioned if it could be possible again.  Some days, I still question it.

My first wish would be for a second chance at love.  I’d wish for a woman that I’d be crazy about today, tomorrow, and everyday we had together until all our days were behind and no more lied ahead.  Together we’d have a house and I’d fix it.  I’d probably yell at it from time to time, and I may even throw things at it on occasion, though when nobody was watching, but it would be our house.  Our home.  We’d fill it with a dog and children, and possibly some fish.  I dare not say how many children though.  God has a funny way about these things.  Tell Him you want 1 and the next thing you know you’re expecting triplets.  I just want kids.  I’ll take however many He’s willing to give.

A wish, or one day a reality?  Either way, I hold onto this one with great hope.

Since I was about 10 years old, or at least, somewhere in the general vicinity of that age, I’ve dreamed about being on the radio.  The soft glow of the digital display on my Sanyo stereo was a constant companion to me.  It sat on a shelf hung right at the head of my bed.  The speakers were tucked away neatly inside the headboard, and played all my favorite songs right into the back of my pillow as I lay dreaming.

I remember making my own “radio station” with an old tape recorder.  I’d mix the songs together, and record intros and weather forecasts for them in between.  Even at that young age I seemingly understood that half my future career in radio would be giving weather reports!  I bet if I looked hard enough, one or two of those tapes may still exist somewhere.

Since those days of my childhood, creating my own radio stations, I’ve had a dream that one day I’d do it for real.  I had visions of programming a great Christian radio station.  I still have those same visions, although they’ve morphed over the years as my skill and knowledge has developed.  My dream now involves creating a station like no other, and using it as a model to build a network of stations right across the country.  That, however, is another blog for another day.

My second wish, would be for this dream to come true.  It would be that somehow, God would bring me the resources I needed to make this dream a reality.  That would be an incredible wish!

Firefighters only save people in the movies.  OK, so that’s not really true.  It seems it though.  I’ve watched Backdraft and Ladder 49 hundreds of times probably.  I’ve just never done anything like they do in those movies.  10 years on the fire department.  No saves.  Sure I’ve gone into burning buildings, and I’ve extricated people from the wreckage of an M.V.C. but I’ve never had a save.

Truth be told, I’ve mostly experienced loss.  I don’t know a worse or more helpless feeling than watching the final grains of sand trickle through the hourglass of life while your hands are doing compressions on a persons chest.  It’s an awful feeling.

I keep answering the call though.  No matter the loss.  No matter the emotional stress.  I will keep answering the call.  The next one might be the one, I tell myself.  Not because I have a hero complex.  You just do it because you know you might be able to help someone.  That is motivation enough.  That is why I joined the fire department in the first place.

My third wish would be to make a save.  One save.  To race through a house, flames licking at my heels, heat wrapping around my body and squeezing the life out it, seeing the safe exit, a whole different world just on the other side of that door.  When I rush through it, into a different kind of light, the inviting light of sun versus the threatening light of flame, I emerge with a child pulled tighly to my body, protected by my arms, safe in my hands.

I wish for the chance to replace all the memories of the ones I couldn’t save, with just one that I did.

Finally, an alternate.  In the event that any of my 3 above wishes should come true before I am extended the chance to make 3 wishes, I thought it prudent to have a contingency wish.  The proverbial back-up plan.  This one, I shall spare detail as it will only cause embarrasment and ridicule.  Not that I’m ashamed of it mind you.  Just that I know others will find it amusing.  Simply put… I’d wish for the chance to be a bass singer in a Southern Gospel Quartet and share the stage with the likes of Ernie Haase and Signature Sound or the Gaither Vocal Band.  An unusual desire perhaps, but one that is shared with sincerity equal to the rest!

Lately, the vast majority of the traffic on my blog has come as a result of people doing Google searches for Jon & Kate Plus 8.  After last night, that number spiked even higher.  With that in mind, I figured I’d share my two cents on last nights Season 5 premiere, since so many people that are finding this blog are looking for stuff on Jon and Kate.

The episode that aired last night was hard for me to watch.  Very hard.  The whole thing felt awkward and dramatic, and almost exploitative.  I realize Jon and Kate are getting paid to do this show, as a result of that, should expect a certain level of media attention.  Last night though, I couldn’t help but feel as though TLC was milking the personal trials of this family for all it was worth to them.  I suppose by watching, I gave them exactly what they hoped for.

I will say this, unless you have been through a divorce, and tried to put the pieces of your life back together after one, you have no clue the ramifications of such a decision.  People think it’s an easy clean break.  Like ripping off a band-aid.  It will hurt, but only for a second or two.  You couldn’t be more wrong!  The effects of divorce are deep, far reaching, and intense.  It is not something you just get over.  It’s not something you just move on from.  It is something that shakes you to the very core of your being.

I understand all to well now, why God is not a big fan of divorce.  I can’t help but think that it has less to do with the actual act of the divorce, and more to do with the hurt that it causes His people… those of us whom He loves so deeply.  Seeing us live through a divorce has to break His heart as He watches the way it breaks ours.

I don’t know what is next for Jon and Kate.  It wasn’t made very clear, although I certainly got the feeling like it was over.  For their sake, and the sake of their children, I pray it doesn’t end that way.  I tried everything I could think of to keep my marriage from ending.  If I had to do it all over again, I’d try even harder.  I can promise you this, I’ve learned a lot of lessons along the way, and you can be darn sure that divorce is something I will never go through again!

Watching Jon and Kate last night brought back too many memories and hurts.  A husband and wife that can’t talk to each other.  A husband and wife who seemingly tried to avoid each other.  A husband and wife who really wouldn’t even look at each other.  My heart broke all over again, because I remember what all of those things felt like.

I am not here to judge either of them.  It’s certainly none of my business what either of them may, or may not have done.  That is, as Jon stated last night, a personal, private, family matter.  I agree.  All I will say is this… people need to stop judging them.  People need to stop lining up to be the first to cast stones.  Focus some of your attention toward condemning Jon and Kate on your own life.  Are there areas where you can improve?  How about your own relationships?  What can you do today in your own relationships to help insure that you never get to a place where Jon and Kate find themselves?  Wouldn’t that seem like a more productive use of your time and energy?

I truly hope that Jon and Kate are able to get some counseling, and work through whatever the issues are that are infecting their marriage.  I hope that together, they will work to overcome their trials.  Divorce, no matter how easy or inviting an option as it may seem, honestly isn’t worth it!

One of the reasons why everybody loves Romantic Comedies created by Hollywood is that they always have a happy ending.  There is a good story, a few laughs, some version of love, and in the end, the guy always gets the girl.  Certainly it’s not reality, but that’s OK.  We have enough reality in our day to day lives.  We don’t need reality when we’re watching a movie.  I guess that is half the reason for watching the movie in the first place.  For the escape of it all.

Tonight I was flipping through the channels and couldn’t find anything really worth watching.  When I’m on the stationary bike, I need background noise.  Something, anything.  As I was channel surfing I came across “The Break Up” with Vince Vaughn and Jennifer Aniston.  

At first I assumed it would be just another Romantic Comedy like the rest.  90% of the way through, I still thought as much.  Even though they had experienced their break up, and the comedy ensued, I expected in the end, as always, the guy would get the girl.

By the time the end credits came up, I was convinced that when they edited the movie for television they must have accidentally cut off the ending.  Perhaps somebody inserted the wrong tape?  Maybe they let a student edit the movie and they goofed.  It didn’t seem possible.  They guy didn’t get the girl.  That’s not how it’s supposed to happen.  Or at least, that isn’t how it’s supposed to happen in Hollywood.

I sat for a few moments processing what had unfolded.  The more I thought about it though, the more I appreciated it.  A movie that took a chance.  A movie that didn’t end with “And they lived happily ever after.” Then again, whose to say they didn’t live happily ever after, simply because they didn’t live happily ever after with each other?

I’m 30 years old and divorced. In my wildest dreams, or perhaps I could say nightmares, that is something I never saw happening.  I love my Hollywood movies.  The black and white Romances of the 30’s and 40’s and the Romantic Comedies of today.  The guy is supposed to get the girl.  They are supposed to live happily ever after.  That’s just the way it’s supposed to work.

I guess that is why I appreciate The Break Up.  Now that I find myself in the position I’m in, I respect the reality of it.  At the same time, I also am intrigued by the mystery of it.  Just because the movie didn’t give us the happy ending we hoped for doesn’t mean there still can’t be a happy ending.

This is a fact I remind myself of daily.  My life is a book.  Each day is a page.  What I’m learning now is that just because one chapter ends, doesn’t mean the story does.  Instead, a page turns and a new chapter begins.  What I thought was the end of the story was merely a plot twist.  Pen still gets put to paper.  There are plenty more pages to write.

Life doesn’t follow a Hollywood script.  There are no storyboards that guide the plot.  Life is a series of choices.  Sometimes we make good decisions, sometimes we make bad decisions.  Sometimes, we don’t even get a say in the decisions.  All we can do is keep putting pen to paper.  When the plot takes an unexpected turn, we take time to collect ourselves, and follow the new path.  

Giving up is certainly an option, although it shouldn’t be.  There are days when I’ve wanted to.  Thankfully, my faith gets me through.  On those days, I’ve got somebody that picks me up and carries me.  For that, I’m grateful.  After all, if we give up before we reach the end of the book… we could miss our happy ending!