• On a recent Bonnie Raitt CD, ( I wanted to say album, but I should try and be a bit more modern, shouldn't I?) there's a song called "Unnecessarily Mercenary," in which Ms. Raitt tells the tale of her lover's obvious profit motive. I recently got something of a shot of profit motive when my daughters expressed that, while they no longer wished to see me, they wanted to continue seeing their grandmother (my stepmother,) for reasons, frankly, one can see from space. Grandma buys them lunch, and other things. Grandma takes them places. All of this, while Grandma is also paying probably $5,000+ a month to keep her husband of 25 years in an assisted living facility, keep him clothed, (he tends to eat rather sloppily, and soil himself with disturbing regularity, necessitating new clothes pretty frequently,) keep his clothes washed as much as possible, get his medications, take him to the doctor when necessary, and otherwise look after him in the way that one should, out of pure, unselfish love. Mind you, my dad doesn't particularly like being in assisted living, as evidenced by his frequent attempts to escape. But the Fire Department will no longer respond if he gets up in the middle of the night and falls, meaning when he was living at home, I was the one doing the frequent heavy lifting in such instances. And when I say heavy, at 81, my dad is still almost 200 pounds of fulsome, robust human being. It wasn't a pleasant experience getting roused out of bed at 2:00 in the morning because dad had fallen somewhere in the house. It was, and is, equally unpleasant to see him as a shadow of the man I once knew. And we won't even get into the expenses of home ownership, the paying of lawyers and accountants necessary in the sorting out of estate issues, and the like. And working, because she has to, to keep everything going.
  
  You can't imagine what it's like when your own father doesn't even really know in his own mind that you are no longer 10 years old, and that you have your own children, your own issues, and probably would have your own life, were it not for the efforts you were making to try and keep your past where it belongs; behind you. Of course, no matter what, your past is never entirely behind you, partly because your children, and your love, your unselfish, undying love for your children always keeps the past fresh, no matter what. So, to Shelby and Sydne, I say the following:
  
  
• When you were crying in the middle of the night as babies, because your ear infections were so bad you screamed, or becaues the heat of July was so unbearable, who do you think sat up with you? Grandma? Your "stepfather?" (I will happily remove him from quotation marks when the marraige actually happens,) No. Your mother did, when called upon to do so, but having children is a physically draining experience, as you will probably someday discover yourselves. Frequently as not, it was me; dad. You sat in the "Daddylounger," or clung to my shoulder, and tired as I was myself, frankly, I still didn't mind.
  
• Even in the times when the burden was shifted to me, I made sure child support was paid. Child Support. Meaning all those times your mother bought you stuff or did things for you, or whatever, frequently it was money she got because I was paying it to her. I apologize if it's been insufficient, or inconsistent at times, but I also wish you could see the paycheck I had from long ago, where, after the payment of Child Support, health insurance, taxes, and everything else, I was left with a whopping $14. Ask your mom if she could survive for a week on $14. I already know the answer.
  
• And speaking of things I did, yeah, I know Martha has a lot to learn about being a step-parent, such as she is when I don't have physical custody myself, but like I have said, over, and over, and over, especially in the last year, she and I are both learning about what it takes to be better people. It's not easy, frankly it's gonna be a long, drawn-out process; I don't expect you to love her overnight, it sure wasn't the case when I was growing up with Grandma Cheryl. I wondered where she fit in my life, when I already had a mother and a father, and then it dawned on me, at about the age of 25; she really did care about me. Almost more than anyone else ever had. And as far as my relationship with Martha, yes, I know you think it happened too fast, it very well might have. But the bottom line is this; do I not have the right to be happy, on my own terms?! Do you intend to begrudge me that capacity, too?
  
• Happiness. God, I shouldn't even go there, for everything that's involved in the reasons I haven't been happy. Shelby, I was about your age when I overheard my father say to Cheryl, "How do you like my dumb son?!" In the intervening time, I have heard him say, with a clear mind, that he was proud of me, but never to your face, never behind your back, would I call you or Sydne dumb. You also never had to kneel in fireplace cinders, the way your great-grandpa Klobucar made grandpa and his brothers do when they were bad. There have been other instances in which I have been mistreated, ignored or abused by other people, but I won't get into that. The people who did know who they are, and what they did, and it's not my place to judge them publicly.

If you still want to continue not to have contact with me, that's fine, I can accept that. God knows I've been angry with the people who I feel mistreated me. And if you still want to see Grandma, well, that's not my decision either. But deciding to have a relationship with her, and not me, is, as I said at the beginning, a profit motive a person can see from space. Just keep in mind who loves you, and who cares about you, for the simple reason that that's what a PARENT does. And beyond that.....Good Luck!