Here's a little tale that may bring Christmas joy to those of you who have experienced unpleasant divorces:
When my wife Maureen was an undergraduate, her roommate was Eileen, a very dorky girl. One night they go to a party, and who should be there but Sheldon, Maureen's high school classmate, a very serious fellow and also dorky. Maureen introduces them. Dork-match from heaven; they marry, become good friends of ours, move to Madison for grad school, and have two kids. Maureen and I shake our heads about the prospects of their kids growing up normal, given that Sheldon is a librarian and Eileen a construction worker, but we keep it to ourselves.
Fast forward a few years - Eileen bites hard into the Jesus thing, and divorce is unavoidable given that Sheldon enjoys a beer now and then. A nasty divorce with a bitter custody dispute. Apparently, both are counseled by their respective attorneys to provide documentation as to their being the better parent, and both request the testimony of their mutual friend, who happens to be an elementary school teacher. Maureen, in one of the dumbest things she has ever done (next to marrying me) says yes to both. Her objective testimony then sets out each parent's strengths and weaknesses. Eileen gets custody (surprise-surprise). Needless to say, we haven't spoken to either of them since.
Until, fast forward another thirty-plus years, we get a call yesterday from Sheldon, in town to visit his dying mother. Maureen is on her way out of the house, but Sheldon and I have a long chat, catching up on old times. Eventually, I brag about our 5 grandkids. Sheldon claims he has 5, except 2 are step-grandkids from his current wife (another librarian), and 2 are foster-kids that Sheldon's daughter is trying to adopt. So I win, right?
Then Sheldon plays his trump card. His one biological grandchild, his daughter's 8 year old son, is named Sheldon. I ask how Eileen took this. Sheldon says, "Well, I never talk to her, but I understand she cried for a month."
