A House Divided…
“A House Divided Against Itself Cannot Stand” Abraham Lincoln
We met in the middle of August, and within a month, I was convinced he was “the one!” Our courtship was a quilt of “silver linings,”woven by a deft manipulator, carefully portraying a picture of heartbreak and regret from his first marriage and the two daughters that he loved dearly, but admitted to never having had enough time to spend with as he hoped. Al “confessed” that he was so caught up and consumed with, making a success of his own life, following his halted childhood, and the memory of his Father’s untimely death, leaving his Mother ill-prepared to provide, either financially or emotionally, for Al and his three older siblings, and that he was often blinded to the needs of others. He relayed a tale of securing an after-school job, at just eight years old, as a golf caddie, for the public golf course near his home, while his Mother immediately found full-time work. He added that, after that time in his life, he was left feeling abandoned and didn’t know if he’d ever be able to resolve that emptiness, or fully trust in anything, or anyone, again. As a result, he convinced himself that only tremendous career and financial achievement could outweigh whatever personal sacrifice he might bear, and/or, cause along his way. That was the story he weaved throughout our second date.
He went on to explain that he and his first wife had met as “kids” and were both desperate to escape unhappy homes, and painful family histories, so they had married early, became parents shortly afterwards, and Al was left with no choice but to go to school, apprentice after school, and then work another job late into the night to take care of his new family. Back then, I had no reason, not, to believe the words that he spoke! What I’ve learned since, however, over the past 31 years, is that whatever words escape Al’s mouth have been carefully calculated to elicit the response that best serves his narrative; the truth isn’t really relevant!
My Mom used to say, “there are many lessons to be learned in life, and a majority of them don’t happen in the classroom!” No truer words have been spoken...and it was a lesson learned repeatedly during my years with Al. Lessons that were most often, painful.... but, shame on me, for not absorbing the lessons and seeking the truth sooner.
Looking back, I struggle to sift between the mountains of garbage Al used to lay the foundation upon which we built our life, as well as the life he led before that? Which words and version were fiction, versus what I’ve since learned was legitimate and factual? He used to tell me we made such a great team; I quote, “he had the tools to handle the financial part of our life, and I had the emotional makeup that would make for a happy home and family.” Those words struck a chord, from the memories of loss during my own childhood, and my family’s past, with its multiple divorces and resulting instability that accompanied each split. My desire to raise a family, and do it differently than what I had experienced as a child, kept me from carefully examining Al’s motives, words, and actions to determine if they were truly sincere, or something else. The first several years we spent as a couple SHOULD have set off every bell and whistle that could possibly signal a rocky road ahead, but I rejected the cold hard facts I encountered, in favor of the fantasy Al had painted. Alas...
“We all eat lies when our hearts are hungry!” Unknown
We did things a little backwards, and after three years, we had a child, two marriage proposals but still no actual marriage. Al made big promises, and I wore a big diamond, but was also growing really weary of the emptiness that hung on his words. I finally took the reins back into my own hands, and moved my daughter and myself out of his home, into my Mother’s home in Santa Barbara. She was eager for the company, and quickly volunteered to help with Emily, while I went back into real estate, and accepted the position I had been offered with an old Montecito Real Estate firm. It wasn’t three weeks later that Al was back, begging for me to “return home; this time was different....he was ready.” Indeed? Ten days before the big event, Al very quietly, one evening, mentioned that we would need a Prenuptial Agreement. “It was for the protection of his two adult children, and our own child, to spell out and identify how we would allocate assets should our union fail, or should he pass away.” Al had always been convinced he would not live very long, as his Father and older brother had both passed fairly early in their 50’s. I was taken aback but agreed, as I wasn’t looking for a paycheck, I wanted the whole package. Al told me to find an attorney to draft the Agreement in accordance with California law, and he’d have his New York lawyer review it when it was ready. I called two different attorneys that I knew, one from a real estate deal I had been involved in a few years past, and the other, a man who had been my Father’s former law partner in the 60/70’s in La Jolla, but who was now a prominent fixture in Rancho Santa Fe. Al and I met with Roger Woolley a few days later, and sat for well over an hour talking, answering questions, and making a list of all the requirements and financials that Al, and his accountant Keith, would need to produce in order for Roger to draft such an agreement. Roger was quick to add, though, that it was a bit late to execute such a document, with the wedding just 10 days away. Nonetheless, Al flew to New York the next day to meet with his accountant to assemble the necessary financial items on Roger’s list. It was late in the afternoon that same day, that Roger called me and asked if I would meet with him the next morning, on my own. I did...and within the first five minutes of that meeting, Roger told me he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, draft a Pre-nuptial agreement for us! He told me he had done some research, placing calls to a few of his contacts on the East Coast (Al’s home and primary business office), and told me Al wasn’t, at all, the man I thought he was, and that not only would Roger not draft the document, but that I shouldn’t pursue the marriage at all! He told me Al had a dark history, some ugly skeletons in his closet, and Roger had a bad feeling about the whole arrangement. The last thing Roger told me was that “he had known my family for a very long time, and had watched me grow up and that he truly cared what might happen to my daughter and myself, and so he wouldn’t facilitate a “Prenup.” He said what I should do...is contact a skilled family law attorney, (he handed me a card with a couple names and numbers on it) told me to call them immediately, file a Palimony suit and get as far away from Al as possible. Feeling a sudden wave of shock, I , somewhat, numbly, thanked him for his time, offered to pay for the couple hours we had taken up, which he refused, and left his office, completely crestfallen. What next? I was determined to marry this man, the Father of my child, and while a part of me truly “felt” the impact of Roger’s advice, I just couldn’t accept the grim news. It was the next day, before I told Al about my solo visit with Roger, and while he was incensed at the implication that Roger had made, he was also quick to add, “there would be no wedding without a pre-nup!” By this time, the wedding date was just a week away; Al wouldn’t be back from New York for another few days, and “what the devil” was I going to do? (It didn’t occur to me at the time, but the phrasing of my question was more accurate than I could ever have imagined), and again...”what the devil was I going to do?” That following Monday evening, Al returned from New York, and the tension that filled the air between us was palpable. The next day was Tuesday, now just five days before the ceremony, and I was a wreck. Plans were made, an assortment of Al’s requested guests had flights booked, hotel rooms secured, and my list of “to do’s” was as real as the fog and anxiety that filled my brain. Al went to the club that morning to play tennis, and it was all I could do to get myself and Emily dressed without feeling like I was about to vomit. So many plans, and an overwhelming cloud of embarrassment as well as desperation hung overhead, and seemed to be all I could think about. Al returned from tennis and said he thought he might have an answer. He continued on, asking me why I hadn’t thought to call my own Dad who was an attorney; we could just get him to draw up the document? I listened, and while a part of me was grateful for the solution, another part of me still felt sick inside. However, I called Dad, who had all but checked out on maintaining a serious law practice, and now described himself as a “country lawyer.” A little bit of this, a little bit of that, but most of his clients were locals he’d known for years from church, or the bowling alley he owned, and most of whom, needed bailing out of some “sticky situation.” The irony of that last sentence was lost on me at the time. Dad, however, was willing to meet with us and draft the agreement. Al and I drove the hour to Temecula, where Dad lived and worked, all had lunch together and then returned to Dad’s office to tackle the “nitty gritty,” ugly business of planning and preparing for the worst case scenario of what our, or any, marriage might end up looking like. That was Wednesday....just three days until “I do.” The details were brutally ugly, if you really dissect what they represented, but I kept reminding myself that I wasn’t marrying Al for money....it was closure on the fairytale that I still hoped and believed was possible. The document was drawn and ready for signatures; again, I drove to Temecula to sign my part, and Al asked my Dad to fax a copy to his attorney in New York, who would review it and fax it on to Al. It was now Friday, and we had guests arriving that afternoon, as well as a small rehearsal dinner planned, and with the unpleasantness of drafting a prenup the day before the wedding now behind us, I couldn’t help but feel enormous relief.
Most VALID “PreNups” need to be executed several months prior to a marriage ceremony…not the day before!
Fast forward a few years; Al, Emily and I had recently moved from Rancho Santa Fe to Santa Ynez; had done a huge remodel on the beautiful, hilltop home we purchased along “the Roblar corridor,” and had also acquired an oceanfront beach house in Cambria. We hadn’t even marked an entire summer in Santa Ynez, before Al proclaimed we’d need a cooler location to retreat to, during the scorching hot, dog days of summer. About eight months later, after our first winter in Santa Ynez together, Al’s oldest daughter moved from New York to California, and would live with us for another year or so. During that time, she and I became close, and through her eyes, I caught a glimpse and perspective of her Father, her childhood, her life growing up, and a view of Al, that I had never fully understood, been told about, nor appreciated before. I never realized how deeply hurtful, Al’s treatment of his first family had been; or how isolating and distant he was during that first marriage. It would take much more time before I could fully understand the scars that resulted from his first marriage. It didn’t happen immediately, but I would eventually comprehend the abundance of caution Roger Woolley had tried to convey to me!
Our Roblar hilltop home…
Al’s oldest daughter and I developed a very strong relationship throughout the years that we spent together. We shared dinner several times a week, and she took a special fondness for my children, her younger siblings, and showered them with so much love and attention, and I was always so appreciative that my children shared those memories with their older sister. She became a integral part of our home and life for so many years, and I am grateful for her acceptance of ALL of us being a big family.
Al’s second daughter and I had had very few occasions to spend together, but it was abundantly clear from the “get-go,” just how little use she had for me. Instead, she still mourned the loss of Al’s string of girlfriends past; the ones who had preceded me, and at least one, of which had not survived the experience. A very distinct “line in the sand” was drawn, and we both recognized that we would never get beyond that point. I knew it, she knew it, and while we interacted politely on the rare occasion when we did see one another; that was to be the extent of any relationship that might ever develop between us. Al used to discount the concern I shared about both his older girls, and the disparity that existed in his behavior towards each of them. He would scoff at my remarks, reminding me that I didn’t really know the background well enough, nor was it any of my business to make observations, or comment at all. I took his words to heart and tried to refrain from ever inserting my opinion into any discussion that concerned “his girls,” again; however, it didn’t go unnoticed that there was an enormous divide in his treatment of each. Al could find a rationalization for anything that Carol Marie might do, and he had a long list of responses to address whatever situation might come up. These are a few of the retorts I recall him saying: “she has no serious life experiences yet; she is more concerned with the next academic degree she’ll seek; where the next Grateful Dead tour might take her, and whether, or not, she should stay with the boyfriend, Steve!” Al was adept at using veiled humor to discount a potentially volatile subject.
Al’s compulsive obsession to dodge any serious and intimate level of communication was becoming more apparent with time, especially if it included any mention of his family of origin, his first marriage, or its resulting children. He refused to consider any of my suggestions about getting together with, or even a basic introduction, to any of his family of origin....period. For the first few years when we traveled back and forth between California and New York, with his two older sisters and their families living a mere 35 to 40 miles away, in Long Island’s south shore community of Inwood, Al patently rejected my request to arrange a brief visit? It was an odd reality, discovered several years later, while living between California and Georgia, during Al’s pivotal involvement in the steering of Georgia resort’s, explosive growth and development, that I learned we had actually entertained Al’s adult nephew many, many times, before I even knew who Danny Zambo was! Those days at Sea Island were filled with several teams of consultants that were in and out of town with great frequency. I would get a call late in the afternoon (4:30-5:00, or so), from Al saying he was bringing 7 to 8 guys to the house for dinner, and I should be prepared. That was no big deal; by then, I was very at ease entertaining on any level, no matter how formal or easygoing the occasion might dictate! What I didn’t get, was why it took over a year before I learned that one of the engineering consultants that frequently dined with us at our Cottage 64 home, was Al’s nephew? I don’t recall how I came to learn that little tidbit, but it felt like a huge slap in the face. My own upbringing, with my parent’s multiple divorces, together with the alcoholism, and the fragile ties that accompanied my family of origin, the resulting loss of connection I felt to many branches of our family tree, stoked a deep need within me to reach out and welcome additional family and friends to our lives. It struck me then, that Al and I really had such polar opposite personalities, and priorities, with almost two entirely different “languages;” it was a troubling reality! That Al didn’t embrace the warm togetherness of family that I sought, was simply a reality that existed, and I was bright enough to understand I was unlikely to change it, particularly at that late stage of the game, so I might as well accept it? Nonetheless, I do remember thinking what a compartmentalized version of life he preferred, to the one I tried to foster; it remained on my mind, and always in my heart.
In 2000, when Al was about to mark a very big milestone, his 60th Birthday....I decided to just “go for it!” There was never anything I could do for him that would rival, or be as special, as what he would get or do himself...be it a leather jacket, or new Ferrari, both legit and real examples! But, it was a safe assumption that he’d probably never have thrown himself a big party, like the one I wanted to throw for him....particularly, because I remembered that neither his Father nor his older brother had reached that milestone. I arranged for as many of his and our mutual friends that could make it, to be in Santa Ynez for the weekend; there was a tremendous show of support present to celebrate him on that momentous occasion. All four of his children were there; one of the only two occasions in our entire history when that’s been the case. Mac was there, at 84, all the way from Georgia, and many others from different times and parts of Al’s history, including “Uncle Ed” and his new wife; Mark and Dana from New York, Dave and Pat from Ohio; and several more Georgia and local friends as well! Of course, my entire family, with the exception of my Dad and his wife, were all there helping to celebrate the occasion! Friday night was a big surprise dinner at his favorite Italian place; followed by tennis, wine tasting, and picnic lunches on Saturday; then a beautifully executed, tented and formal sit-down dinner orchestrated by the best chefs in town on Saturday evening, topped off with live music, and much dancing and revelry to follow.
Al’s 60th celebration
That was the first and only occasion that all four of Al’s kids were together throughout our entire relationship, until his heart surgery in 2007, which occurred in the midst of our divorce proceedings; I’m not sure if that even counted, as PJ had to sit in the hall, to avoid passing out, and Carol Marie left to return to New York, not long after the kids and I arrived from Georgia! Who knows, with the way life has of throwing, unexpected, curve balls your direction, when and if Al’s “four-pack” will be together again. At least, I can say with certainty, that for at least one weekend, Al’s house and life was not divided!
One of the ONLY two occasions when all four of Al’s kids have been together in 32 years.
In the latter part of summer 2002, my Dad and his wife visited us in Santa Ynez for a couple days; Dad made a special effort to take me off to the side and hand me an envelope. With his very dry sense of humor, Dad commented he thought it was an appropriate time to pass along our Pre-nuptial Agreement, since we had reached the 10 year mark, heralding the termination/”sunset” clause of the Agreement. I was a bit surprised, and even more so, when he added, “if the Pre-Nup had been so crucial for Al to obtain, why had he never signed it?” I wasn’t sure what to say. I guess the relief I had felt after the agreement’s “11th hour” drafting was enough for me; I hadn’t really thought about it again, until right then! I also didn’t know at the time why, but that conversation would always stick with me. That visit was the last time I’d get to see my Dad before his very grim and advanced lung cancer diagnosis, just a few months later in November, his subsequent hospitalization and passing on January 11th of 2003. Al happened to have a couple consultants in town for a work session when we learned of Dad’s impending funeral arrangements, and while it didn’t come as a huge surprise, it was still disheartening, when Al said he’d really prefer NOT to attend Dad’s service; “he was quite sure it wouldn’t matter!” But all the while never considering the idea that… It mattered to me!
I’ve since been reminded at least a thousand different times, in just as many ways, how incredibly opposite Al’s heart and mind operates, in comparison to my own. While it took far too long, at least I finally learned my lesson!
Just a few pertinent items to keep in mind…
When obtaining a prenup, most lawyers will insist it be done at least 6 months prior to your wedding, not the day before.
Most courts will not honor an agreement drafted by a relative of either party of the marriage and absolutely not when said prenup was drafted by the Father of the Bride.
If your prenup has a termination clause specifying a date when the agreement ceases to be valid (say 10 year from date of marriage) most courts and/or lawyers will give no validity to said agreement should you file for a divorce 16 years after the date of marriage.
YES! These points are actually real… imagine that!
(c) “Sunset Clause” of our Prenup; It’s all right there in black and white, and is pretty hard to “twist” in order to fit the narrative of the sociopathic narcissist, and their “followers” (or flying monkeys if you have studied narcissism).
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