I've written this letter a dozen times over the past 30-plus years. Of course, each time it is completely different because I've been a different stage of my life, but the one constant is I've never sent it. I think it's because I'm afraid you wouldn't care.
First, I want to apologise for how we separated, as there were miscommunications and misunderstandings all around. Ultimately it was the right decision, because I still had to grow up and you had to deal with some of your demons, but I never meant it to be hurtful. I think you believed I was having an affair with Dawn, and I want you to know that was absolutely not the case. Yes, we did end up together, but at the time it was not even on my radar.
Not long after we separated, I had my first career break, as the department right next door to mine was looking for a developer and a co-worker recommended me. They required a bachelor's degree and thank goodness I'd been taking those night classes in electronics, as I was able to continue that and get my degree in a year. I moved to Orange County for that year and absolutely hated it -- as soon as I graduated, I moved to the South Bay and I was able to walk to work. (That's also when Dawn and I moved in together.)
I should note I wasn't allowed to keep my fish tank at the new job, and in any case Oscar the goldfish had long outgrown that little 8 gallon tank and I'd upgraded to a 30 gallon tank, and then 50 gallons. Fish husbandry became a bit of an obsession and I ended up with four tanks between 100 and 250 gallons, plus a koi pond inside my house, but I get ahead of myself.
I think Dawn wanted a pet but couldn't because of my asthma and allergies, so she got an iguana and named him Alex after a character on Star Trek: Next Generation. (He turned out to be a she.) I did love her but it was completely unreciprocated. I had to stop taking her out for walks when she was three-feet long, and even friends hesitated to visit when she reached five-feet. (Most of it was tail but she had free rein of the house. Potty-training an iguana is an experience.)
My father died when I was 24. He was in the hospital and the doctor told us he had just a few days left, when the Northridge Earthquake destroyed my parents' home. It seemed like a cosmic joke. I think my mother was 55 at the time, and she survived almost 30 more years.
A few months later I bought a house in Lomita. It was pretty unique because it had a two-storey atrium inside, and I planted a large ficus and built the aforementioned koi pond. The iguana liked to jump from the upstairs onto the ficus. One day she slipped out an open window and was gone for almost six months. Turned out she was just two houses down and when the owner hired someone to trim his trees, they returned her.
Even at the time, I referred to that period as the salad days because we were dual-income no kids, but there was a shadow on the horizon: Dawn's grandparents had owned property in rural Pennsylvania -- Amish country -- where she grew up and she wanted to refurbish it and move there. My neighbor in Lomita cautioned me to do it while I was young, so if things fell apart I could still recover. He said if I waited for retirement, I'd be stuck, and truer words were never said.
I didn't have many hobbies and spent my non-working time either working on the house or watching old films at old cinemas. (It's probably not surprising how many historic cinemas are in LA.) I bought a used convertible to enjoy the weather and everyone joked I was having a mid-life crisis at 28. Then I got my next big career break: I was working at a consulting firm on a project for Honda during the dot-com bubble and I decided to quit and do independent consulting. Honda hired me for an outrageous $100 per hour and kept me full-time for six years.
Meanwhile, the value of the house in Lomita had gone from $200,000 in 1994 to $800,000 in 2006. Between that and savings, I had over $1 million US dollars. I had decided -- over Dawn's protests and her mother's threats -- to turn the property in Pennsylvania into a bed and breakfast, both to have an income and to take advantage of tax credits for restoring an historic property for commercial use. (The main building dated to 1760.) I should probably note Dawn's parents were running a wolf sanctuary on the property...because.
I figured $1 million was enough to restore the property, establish the business and still provide a sufficient cushion. I was wrong. Part of the problem was I sent Dawn to Pennsylvania to oversee the project and keep costs down, but she did the opposite. She insisted on perfectionism and things like painting, which should have taken weeks, ended up taking months. All told, it took 18 months and $1.3 million just to get the doors open.
Not unsurprisingly, those 18 months were rough. I was working all day and trying to start a business at night. Dawn hired an old friend of hers to restore the windows, which became very problematic. I knew that before I met Dawn she had a serious cocaine addiction, but she was clean when I met her and after fourteen years of being sober it never occurred to me she'd start up again, but her friend became her dealer and eventually she started sleeping with him. I was completely oblivious and, to add insult to injury, we got married during this time.
As you're well aware, I always felt marriage was a religious institution that I wanted nothing to do with. However, the IRS didn't recognize de facto relationships and since Dawn owned the property but I had the income, the only way to take advantage of the tax credits was to get married. (Spoiler: There is another barb in this tale.) Given what was going on behind my back, I can only assume Dawn went ahead with the marriage because she was afraid I'd stop paying for everything. Nevertheless, it all came out a few months later -- too late to have the marriage annulled -- and in fact I did freeze the money and the whole project came to a stop. Dawn got a job paying $20,000/year and by my calculations it would take her about 60 years to finish the restoration.
Weirdly, I felt worse about the restoration than about the relationship. I felt like the worst thing I could do was spend all that money and abandon the project halfway through. Even though I could walk away with some money left, it wasn't enough to save my house and I had already mentally checked out at work, so I couldn't see another path. (I also didn't know the depths of Dawn's activities at that time.) Instead, I told Dawn I forgave her (I didn't) and started the project back up. It was a very long six months, partly because I knew I was spending money on something I would not get to enjoy, but also because I was lying to all of my friends as I knew they would not understand why I needed to do this.
On 4 July, 2006, I quit my job, put the Lomita house for sale and drove to Pennsylvania to get the B&B open. (I had to drive because iguanas can't fly.) I had a little office on the third floor and I slept there. (Poor Alex was also stuck in that room when she was used to having full roam of the house.) Those next three months were a complete blur but the B&B was an amazing success; the occupancy rate was much higher than I'd expected, and I'd even hired the first employee. By the end of October I felt like my role had played out, but there was one last issue that hadn't been resolved: The house in Lomita hadn't sold. So I packed a suitcase and flew back, arriving for Halloween.
For many years, Halloween had been our thing: We invited friends over for pumpkin-carving parties and spent way too much money on decorations. That Halloween I sat on the floor in a dark house because I didn't have candy or furniture. My relationship was over and at that point I was a million dollars in debt. To this day, I don't understand why I chose to fly back rather than drive my car and bring more of my stuff, but I think it was a mixture of grief and despair.
When I got back it was patently obvious why the house hadn't sold, and I couldn't believe the realtor hadn't said anything. Without the furniture, the house looked dated and dirty. I spent the last of my money replacing the carpet, removing the popcorn ceiling and painting. I then hired someone to stage the house, and it sold a few weeks later. (The realtor then tried to take credit for this, which is why I hate realtors to this day.)
It was now Christmas and I had no job, no house and no money. I still had good credit, though, and I realised (because our finances were still linked) that Dawn had missed a payment on a loan which triggered the interest rate to skyrocket. Again, for reasons that are beyond me, I decided -- without even telling her -- to transfer that loan to myself. It was for $30,000. Dawn sent me a pair of Amish oven mitts. For years I joked about my $30,000 oven mitts.
All of my friends were in LA, and they were all very supportive, but I felt like I was starting my life over again at the age of 37, and I didn't want to just do the same things again. Working in IT, a lot of my friends were immigrants, and I'd always admired their ability to navigate two worlds. However, I knew I was hopeless with languages so I limited my choice to English-speaking countries: Canada was too much like America, I felt (having been in Toronto for two weeks on a business trip), I couldn't stand the Australian accent so I chose England. (At the risk of foreshadowing, I never considered New Zealand. I'm not even sure I knew it existed at that point.)
I sent off the paperwork for a UK visa and hit an unexpected snag: I needed to show a certain income for the past 12 months, and since I couldn't "prove" my income from the B&B, I didn't qualify. I'm not used to being told no--and I don't like it--so I decided to get a regular job for 12 months and apply again. But one thing I was very clear about: It couldn't be in LA. Apart from the weather, I never really liked LA, and while moving to rural Pennsylvania might have seemed crazy to some, I was happy to do it just to get out of LA!
Years before, my brother had moved to Northern California and when he had his first child, my mother followed. I went and stayed with my mom while I looked for a job in San Francisco. My mother and I never got on particularly well and within two weeks, when one of my friends offered me a job in downtown LA, I took it.
I'd worked in downtown for several years and really enjoyed it, so this time I decided to live there, as well -- I rented a loft conversion and walked to work. I took advantage of the subway system and was out most nights, going to shows or restaurants. I didn't save any money, but over those 12 months I really learned to love LA. I also got into a relationship and she was quite surprised at the end of the 12 months when I announced I was moving to the UK.
(My ex-wife was also confused when I stopped at the property in Pennsylvania to say good-bye to her mother. I haven't talked to my ex in many years, but her Mom and I are still in touch.)
Before I left, of course, I said good-bye to all my friends, including the Allens. We had lost touch for many years and, coincidentally, we had both became vegetarian during that time. They even started a vegetarian website so we often met up at a restaurant they were reviewing. True to form they invited me to a restaurant where they were meeting some South African friends, and when I mentioned I was moving to London and didn't have a job yet, they gave me their daughter's phone number because she worked in IT for British Airways.
I arrived in London in May 2008, a date I'll never forget because the Great Financial Crash didn't hit the US until about August, but it started in London -- the financial capital of the world -- in May. It ended up taking me over a year to find a job. I did call the friend's daughter and she didn't help me find a job but she did take me for a vegetarian meal (the whole family was vegetarian) and I have to admit, I fell for her hard. I was 38, she was about 18 months younger, and while you were the prettiest woman I've ever met, she was a very close second. I spent three years trying to get that relationship to work and, to be honest, I felt this was my opportunity for redemption, since I wasn't able to make our relationship work.
Unfortunately, I ultimately failed again. (I am reminded of the adage: "The only common denominator in your dysfunctional relationships is you.") It was quite bizarre: We had gotten engaged, we'd bought (and renovated) a house and she was trying to get pregnant, and yet I still didn't feel like we were in a relationship. I adored her but it felt like riding a mechanical bull, and I eventually had to get off.
She was Jewish (in case I needed any more parallels with you) and when she was trying to get pregnant, she said she wanted to raise the child Jewish. I didn't really know what that entailed so I spoke to a rabbi, and he suggested I come to the conversion classes because all they talk about it what it means to be Jewish. So for a year I went every Monday night for three hours, plus I learned some basic Hebrew. After the relationship ended, the rabbi asked what I was going to do, and I said I was going to convert. Since that had never been the reason for me attending, he was quite surprised, but I'd always described myself as a reluctant atheist and I really found something spiritual in progressive Judaism. Since I was American, I was already circumcised, and since I was vegetarian, I didn't have to give up pork. All I had to do was go before a Beit Din and the rabbi assured me that the one thing they never asked about was God. I went to the Beit Din and the first thing they asked me was about my relationship with God.
(I said something ridiculous, about the mysteries of the universe and referring to "that" as God. I don't think they bought it but they converted me anyway.)
Ridiculously, by this point it was about six months since I'd ended the engagement and I was dating another South African Jew. (She wasn't vegetarian but she did keep kosher, so vegetarian wasn't an issue.) After her I dated a Sikh woman who was drop-dead gorgeous, but I knew I had to be with someone Jewish. (My cousin was very disappointed as she said we would have created the cutest babies.)
I converted in December 2011 and by 2013 I was seriously considering making Aliyah. Work had me in northern England during the week (working for the nuclear decommissioning authority, of all places) and I had moved to Reading to save some money. I had several good friends, including one woman who lived on a kibbutz when she was younger, an Italian woman who thought London was a shithole and someone I'd worked with at Honda who had moved to London with his wife and their little girl, Alice, whom I adored. I'd gotten permanent residency and was just a year away from being eligible for UK citizenship. I had every reason so stay but for some reason I wanted to go. I decided to visit Israel in August, partly to see the Perseid meteor shower from the Negev, but mainly to see if I could live there.
I should note that when I was getting ready to start the renovation on the B&B, it was the early days of the Internet and someone suggested I write a blog on the renovation process for marketing purposes. Apart from my fish updates (don't ask) I hadn't done any creative writing since high school, and I really enjoyed it. When I moved to the UK, I started a blog -- this blog -- just to document my experiences, and left it public so my friends could read it. While I was in Mitzpe Ramon for the meteor shower, I got an email from a woman in New Zealand who said she'd read my blog and then felt bad about it because it seemed really personal, so she was apologising for reading it.
If I'd been in the UK, I probably wouldn't have even responded, but there wasn't a lot to do in Mitzpe Ramon during the day (and it was 105F in the shade) so I wrote back, and she wrote back, and next thing we're having video chats, and I found myself falling for this Jewish woman from Scotland who now lived in Wellington with her three kids, aged 8, 10 and 12. In January 2014 I flew out to meet her, leaving just before her eldest daughter's bat mitzvah. I came back in April and then I gave notice at work and booked a one-way flight in September.
(I would have gone earlier but my work required a three-month (!!) notice period, plus I'd applied for British citizenship and was waiting for that. That came through two days before I left the UK, but please don't tell them that.)
I can't explain it, but I moved in with her and the three kids and I immediately felt at home. The NZ website assured me IT was on their skills shortage list and I'd have no trouble getting a work permit -- they lied. It actually took over a year to get my work permit. I had some savings but it was hard. Plus she had a nightmare of an ex-husband: When she applied for child support he sued for full custody, even though he worked outside of the country for eight months of the year! It took almost two years to get through the family court system and when the judge finally told him he couldn't have custody if he wasn't going to be in the country, he moved out of New Zealand altogether and didn't see the kids again for eight years. (And even that visit I organised!)
So I effectively raised these three kids and they are smart and beautiful and for some reason they love me. 😀 In 2016 my partner was diagnosed with breast cancer, but they did surgery and radiation and assured us they got it all. We finally got married in 2018, but in May 2020 -- just as Covid-19 was starting -- she started having trouble breathing. Doctors in hazmat suits ran all the tests and told us the cancer had returned, and now spread to her lungs. It was stage 4 and the five-year-survival rate was less than 25%. She took all the right drugs and three types of chemo but it finally got her in February, the day before her 56th birthday. She'd made it four years and 9 months.
I wish I could explain how magical those ten years were, how much love I felt, and even though she had her demons and we fought about the stupidest things, I loved her so much. If I was still looking for redemption, I found it with her. It's been almost six months and I still feel like I'm learning how to put one foot in front of the other again, but I wouldn't have traded that time with her for anything.
I wish I could tell you what comes next, but if there's anything I've learned in life it's that "Mann Tracht, Un Gott Lacht." I buried my wife in the Jewish section of the cemetery in Wellington and I bought the plot next to her, so I have an idea of where this all ends. It took me a while to realise I am the same age as my mother was when my father passed. Right now, imagining 30 years without her is overwhelming, and I feel like the only thing that will save me are the kids. Thankfully, they are all better than my mother's kids!
So that's my story in a nutshell. I often think about you, which is natural because you were such a big part of my formative years. When I listen to the Beatles' "Across the Universe" I remember you saying the line, "Nothing's gonna change my world" applied to me. I never really understood what you meant by that, but I look back and think: I've become vegetarian, Jewish, British and Kiwi; I've lived in three countries, renovated four homes, opened a bed and breakfast and raised three kids and an iguana; and yet, I'm still me. Maybe I'm a little wiser, a little more experienced, a little less cocksure and a little slower to give advice. I'd like to think my world is much bigger than when we first met, but I can't say that my world has fundamentally changed, and I'm honestly ok with that. Overall, I have to admit, I like myself, so I wouldn't really want to change.
But I also know I have you to thank you for putting me on the right path. I was a scared little 18-year-old, terrified of embarrassing myself. You were the one who gave me the confidence to go out and conquer the world. I knew that if someone like you found me worthy of love, then I would be okay. I look at my kids and watch the small steps they are taking and think how lucky I was to have you. If I had the choice, I wouldn't have changed a thing. In fact, the only thing I would have changed in my life would be to get my late wife a mammogram in 2014. Beyond that, I think my life unfolded exactly how it needed to. In fact, I think about how my wife would have coped without me -- dealing with cancer, three kids, a toxic ex-husband -- and know that I was right where I was supposed to be.
P.S. I read the article in the "Justice Report News" and my heart goes out to you. You've always been on the right side of history, and you should be celebrated as a hero. I don't have any words of wisdom, only know that someone halfway around the world appreciates you.
