Forks on Roads
by
Dick Prosapio
© 2002

Jean has been a friend of mine since I was three. We
stayed connected for the first twenty or so years of our lives. She
was just a year younger than I and we were tight. We didn't attend the
same "grammar" or high schools, but we double dated a lot when we were
teens. She got into sex earlier than I did and paid the price for it
by getting pregnant at 16 or so. She dropped out of high school and
married the guy who just couldn't handle being a father. Nonetheless
they had two more kids in quick succession and his way of coping was
alcohol which led to his becoming more and more prone to violent
behavior.
Our paths diverged when I left Chicago and I didn't
stay in touch with her at all except to hear from mutual friends that
she had divorced. When I plugged back in to her life some years later
she had married an ex-con who also liked his booze but claimed to have
sworn off. Then they had a child together they were not supposed to
have. A doc had warned them about incompatibilities in their blood
types and the outcome was predictable but her husband insisted. He
claimed that if she really cared about him she would agree to have a
child created from their own marriage. She bought that. Their child,
Samantha, was born severely mentally retarded.
Their life together was totally chaotic. The kids
from Jean's first marriage were consistently rejected by their
stepfather who began to drink again and, yes, had a tendency to become
violent. On top of that he was making forays into his old habits of
criminal activity as well. Divorce followed.
Jean couldn't cope with it all. She placed Samantha
in the care of the State and tried to make it again as a single mom.
The kids, two boys and a girl, were more than a handful. Given what
they had experienced at the hands of two uninvolved dads, they had few
boundaries and would accept none. They followed the road blazed by
their role models and moved into a lifestyle of drinking and drugs and
were completely alienated from their mother.
Right about here I want to tell you that Jean came
from a good family. Her mother divorced her father when Jean was about
six. Her step father was a great guy. No alcohol, no abuse, no family
problems of note. Economically they were about a step up from the
family I grew up in and there was less turmoil. She was an only child
and did well in school until she dropped out.
About a year and a half ago, our 16 year old ran
away into a life of drugs and borderline crime. (She was close to some
very bad characters.) She came from a good home and had a good
stepfather. No alcohol, no drugs. Her mother divorced her father when
she was 7. There were no signs that she would do what she did. None...
and we are pretty conscious people. We talked, or tried to, asked
questions. Cared. There was no warning at all.
She came back eight months ago and is now creating a
fine life for herself. Why did she choose to run? She told us,
"Because I wanted to fit in with the other kids. They all had bad home
lives and I didn't. I guess I just wanted to belong."
Both of these girls came from good families. Each
chose the same road when they came to a fork. One continued with poor
choice after poor choice, digging in deeper each time. The other
reversed course and took the opportunity to dig out. Sometimes on the
surface this looks like "bad luck vs. good luck" but I don't think
it's about that. I think it's all about choices.
In neither situation was there anything the families
could do to alter the choices each kid made. As Jean found out,
ultimately she couldn't change her kids choices either.
I guess the lesson is this, you give 'em the best
launching you can, then you pray.
As for them, everything depends on what they do
after they choose. We never stop being presented with alternatives,
we're never really stuck with what we have chosen for very long. No
matter what the nature of that stuckness may be, the old Paul Simon
song, "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover." applies, The chorus is, "Get out
the back Jack, make a new plan Stan, get on the bus Gus, get yourself
free."

Dick Prosapio ©2001
CoyoteCall@spinn.net
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