Retirement

I have been taking to the retirement specialist from the union. It has been getting harder to move each day. My thinking has been fuzzy. What does that mean? It means that my mind is not sharp. 

So now I am looking at the end of my life at AT&T. I thought I could make the last 15 years, but that won’t be the case. Now I’m thinking about what comes next. 

I have been thinking about getting my license to be a notary public. Also, I would like to write grant proposals. That will also take certification. Once Troy graduates and goes in his mission, I will take a look around the country and find where I belong. 

Maybe I’ll get an RV and drive all over until I find my space. Perhaps I will drive alone, or maybe I will have someone special at my side. I don’t really know what my future holds— I just know that it doesn’t hold AT&T.

Radical Acceptance

I know that I am questioning reality right now. 

Is she really going out with him?

Did she really just shut off her feelings for me and move on?

Isn't there something that I can do?

The reality is that she stopped loving me a long time ago.

She made moves to live a life beyond what we had together.

The reality is that she has moved on with another man

and I can't change past or the present.

Was it because we could have no children?Did she leave because she felt I gave more to my previous family than I was giving to her?

Did she leave because I had bout of temper,

temper that made her feel like less than she was?

Yes, I did this to her. 

I take responsibility for her pain.

I do not take responsibility for her leaving-- that was her choice.

I could not give her what she ultimately desired.

She wanted children and a family, but we could not conceive.

She wanted me to do less for my past and more for our present and future,

but I was love constrained by love for my son

and legal papers.

When I felt inadequate, 

I lashed out at the world, 

and she took the brunt of my insecurities.

I never meant to hurt her. 

I can't ever express my sorrow completely.

I met her,

and I had no control over my heart.

I tried not to fall in love with her, 

but the more I struggled against it, the more my heart prevailed.

I had no control over falling in love with her,

but I do have control over how I proceed

now that she has taken her love away from me.

I have this talent

for telling myself how stupid I am,

How worthless I am,

How I am not worthy of happiness.

I point out things that I use as proof,

data to back up my hypothesis

that I don't deserve happiness.

The fact is,

I loved her with all of my heart.

The fact is

that I put her needs in front of my own.

The fact is

that I am a man who does that for people I love.

I care for my family.

I don't easily abandon people.

I fight for loyalty.

I strive for other people's happiness above my own.

I have walked away

from dreams of my own

when they were not convenient for others.

I have succeeded in life. 

I have held my job for over 25 years.

I have improved myself,

my skill,

my abilities in my job.

I have completed a degree program at university.

I continue to write, 

I create stories and poems, 

though I seek no publication or credit.

What will I do

once I am healed in body, mind, heart, and soul?

How will I act?

I will love again-- it is in my nature.

I will not lie to myself,

the day will come

when I will find another mwho loves me back.

I will not be the man who I have been.

I will not bottle my emotions.

I will not lash out in anger.

I will not hurt her for my shortcomings

I will not allow multiple sclerosis

to be my excuse for inaction.

I will exercise.

I will build myself.

I will smile more,

laugh more,

I will speak less,

listen more,

I will continue to care for those who I love

I will also put more care into myself.

Foundation and Trust in God

How firmly have I built my life’s foundation?How strictly do I base my faith in God?Do I trust the love of my great saviorAnd hold fast to the sturdy iron rod?

How strong do I maintain my fearful grip?Will I survive the brutal test of time?Do I possess the might and staminaTo complete this high and lofty climb?

Have I cultivated the grace required To grant forgiveness to my fellow man?Do I even comprehend all my partIn God’s great salvation providing plan?

I may not know all that there is to know But God has taught me all I need to know.

50

So I turned 50 yesterday.  50! That seems like a milestone year. I had a great party with friends. My mom showed up, no brothers came. My sister, who lives in town, said happy birthday over Facebook along with my friends scattered around the world, or people I barely knew in high school.

I’m not surprised, really— or maybe I shouldn’t be surprised is more accurate. My birthday inconvenienced the family from day one. That’s what happens when a person is born at 3:30 am two days before Thanksgiving. Outside of the household, everyone oohs and aha over the little one— something to be grateful for. That is not the attitude inside the house— at least that has not been my observation.

There is so much to do during the week of Thanksgiving. How can they add a birthday party on top of that? What about when the birthday lands right on Thanksgiving Day? It’s clearly just too much to even think about.

So instead of my favorite German chocolate cake as a platform for the candle blowing out ceremony, I get candles stuck in a pumpkin pie. No matter what day it falls on, my family just said happy birthday and gave me some presents after the meal on Thanksgiving— everyone was there anyway. Why waste that convenience?

As for parties with friends? Forget about it! All of my friends were at their grandma’s houses eating turkey. So I never had a birthday party with my friends. I never got cards at school or any of that.

On my 16th birthday, another milestone, I felt like Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles— no one even said “happy birthday” to me. That felt pretty good (not.)

Now I know that some years my parents put in more effort than others. Like the year I got a remote controlled R2-D2. That stands out in memory. Or the year we all got shigella from something we ate that week and had to be quarantined.

True story.

This year I felt the love from my friends— my chosen family. I’m grateful to them for the surprise they planned for me. I mean, I had to pick up the cake and buy some chicken— so I knew something was going on. The real surprise for me was that I found a group of people who genuinely care for each other. Some of them may have had to shift some stuff around, or skip a holiday party at their church or work. They did it. They were there. I meant enough to them that they made my birthday party a priority in their lives. I hope that they know how much I appreciate that.

I guess we don’t have to be stuck with the family that God gives us. We can make our own families as we go along.

AN AMERICAN GIRL’S LOVE SONG

(For Esther May Salzmann September 1, 1926 – July 13, 2018)

A soul like hers will seldom recur

The loss in our hearts is our grandfather’s gain

Heaven is a brighter place with her

At chess, dominoes, cards, and jacks she was connoisseur

And she taught the moves that brought her wins

A soul like hers will seldom recur

Service was her frankincense and love her myrrh

Freely offering when The Spirit showed need

Heaven is a brighter place with her

Europe, Hawaii, rodeo, or cabin—she would seldom demur

Always for adventure with that twinkle in her eye

A soul like hers will seldom recur

To God’s tender hand she would defer

Tic-Tacs or gum to mend a crying child’s hurt

Heaven is a brighter place with her

An eternal love was hers to secure

The covenants she made she made by choice

A soul like hers will seldom recur

Heaven is a brighter place with her

July 25, 2018

FRIDAY THE 13TH

 Friday the 13^th gets a bad rap. Legend says that it was the day that the King Philip IV of France betrayed the Knights Templar. Then there is always Jason Voorhees—enough said. Really, before a book came out in 1907 (Friday the Thirteenth – Tom Lawson,) the date did not have really bad implications. Fridays were generally considered bad luck days. A person never started a long journey on a Friday. In middle ages Europe, Friday was called Hangman’s Day (apparently it was a day for swinging on the gallows.) The bad luck associated with the number 13 is only mentioned in the apocryphal tale that Judas Iscariot was the 13^th person invited to Jesus’ last supper.

Until this past Friday, July 13, the whole bad luck day phenomenon had passed by me. It was just a day. On this day, however, this particular Friday the 13^th, my grandmother slipped her mortal coil and graduated from her Earthly life. It was a sadness and a relief (cancer usually brings such mixed emotion.) It was not the worst thing that could happen to her or anyone. We are all going to die, and she fought for life until the last moment.

No, it was the total collapse of trust that I have in my family. That trust had been eroding for a decade, but that day saw the end of trust. It was as if the last chain that held my aunts, uncles, and cousins to my life had broken. They acted in a callous manner, denying that anyone had any right to claim that they shared a love with my grandmother. Cutting off my side of the family from being able to attend a viewing and open casket funeral. Her body will be cremated and shipped to Colorado for a memorial—and interred without any sort of ceremony.

Ok, I admit to not handling the situation well on my end. I very bluntly told my aunt (who conveyed their plans for a funeral service so rushed that I would never be able to make it to Phoenix in time) that this was all a bit hasty. I told her in a text that I totally got the hint (something I am not good at, btw.) I get that we are not to be a part of mourning/celebrating my grandmother’s life with her family. It was a private moment for them only. The link between us broke, and we no longer had a blood connection. We were done.

My uncle responded that he was fine with that, and I should never contact his wife again. To ensure that I complied with his order, I unfriended anyone from their side of the family on Facebook, and deleted all of their numbers from my phone. Maybe it was a tad bit reactionary, but I know where I am not wanted. Still, now I have to deal with grief, loss, sadness, and an anger for which this writing is my only outlet.

So for the first time, Friday the 13^th wreaked its havoc in my life.

From what could have been a poignant and sad moment of relief and love, it become a life altering event filled with anger and resentment. An event where I find myself even more isolated than I ever was before that day. Well played, Friday the 13^th…well played.

The Great Price is Right Fiasco of 1996

This is addressed to a very dear and close friend of mine in the Philippines. She had plans with her friends to see the country's most popular television program, Show Time. She found her plans sacked by others. I have empathy; I have eaten that same rotten apple-- its purifying flavor still lingers today
in my mouth.

We (a familial "we") planned a road trip back in 1999 to drive to Los Angeles. We wanted to see the Price is Right and tour the Days of Our Lives studio. That was all we really wanted to do. Somehow, of course, ex-wife's mom and sisters (and one of the girl's had a boyfriend) all got invited on our trip. We ended up renting an RV and driving out to LA. Ok…no problem…we had our plans still in place.

I rented a car to drive around town in, so that we didn’t have to find parking for that big RV every time we wanted to go to dinner or something. Then one of the sisters wanted to rent a hotel (I guess she and her boyfriend didn’t want to have sex in the RV in front of everyone.) The thing is…they wanted to use the car to get to and from the hotel. I had a problem with that. I rented the car, and no one under the age of 25 was legal to drive it. I also did not pay extra for more than one allowed driver. So if anything happened to the car…I would have to pay for it out of my own pocket.
I argued against letting them use the car, but they all ganged up against me. Finally, because it was the beginning of a week-long vacation and I wanted peace, I relented. I made it clear that if anything happened I would not suffer alone financially. They would all bear the responsibility. Whatever.

That same sister sat on the beach and exposed her bone white skin in her bikini to the sun all day without using any sun block. She claimed that she "...knew her body." She got burned so painfully bad that they went to their hotel early without dinner. The next day was our planned trip to go tour the studios and see the Price is Right. They knew that we needed the car by 7 am. 7 am came…and no car.
8 am….no car.
9 am…still no car.
At 3 pm her boyfriend showed up with the car. He wanted to know what our plans were for the day because there was free Duran Duran concert in Beverly Hills that night.



I.
WAS.
PISSED.



The rest of the week was filled with everyone else’s plans: Disneyland and visiting friends outside of LA. We had planned this first day in LA to see the shows that we came specifically to see. The boyfriend thought that I was being a dick. I told him that I was considering leaving all of them stranded in LA-- ditching their plans so that I could do what I came out to do. It became only my plan because the ex told everyone that it wasn’t that important to her. Even though it was her idea to begin with.

I know that I have to find a way to forgive people that made me angry. It still pricks me to the bone to remember it. But the point is: I know how my friend in the Philippines felt about the Show Time disappointment.

1st Anniversary!

Celebrating one year married!
Oh...I did mention that I was engaged...didn't I?
We are now well beyond engaged. We are in the midst of full-on wedded bliss.
Happy Anniversary, Vanj Parado Justus!

Mission Alumni (Change Happens)

Just for a comparison on how life is a swiftly moving current from which we cannot break free-- here is what my profile on my mission website said on my last update in 2011:

Presidents: Carlos E Madrid (1993 - 1996)

Served: 1993 - 1995

Areas Served: Las Matas, Enriquillo, Sabana Yegua, Cristo Rey, San Geronimo, San Cristobal

Companions: Brent H. Corry | ryan Farmer | Matthew O. Nielsen | Kent Kyle Rowley

Your Occupation: Translations Analyst

Spouse: Jennifer

Comments: Still no Breen, Beatty, West, Judy, or Hernandez. Donde estan mis panas? I am alive and mostly well* in Littleton, CO. My wife and I have been married since June of '96. Jen is the greatest wife in the world and my best reason for living. I work for AT&T Local Services as an engineer (not a real one...just a telecom engineer.) Currently I teach in the Elders Quorum on the 2nd week of the month. I also serve as the Cub Scout Master-- which is awesome! My wife and I adopted Troy at his birth on October 4, 2009 (10-4 good buddy!) Dadhood rocks! I lost 110 lbs through eating right, cutting out soda pop, and following the Word of Wisdom. Thanks to God's diet plan for us, I am 1/2 the man that I used to be! *MS update: two weeks after my son's birth I experienced my worst exacerbation to date in regards to my MS. I lost all strength in my left leg, and couldn't walk from October 2009 to January 2010. I started a new treatment on a drug called Tysabri. Within a week I was back at work.

Created: 14 Jan 2002  Modified: 14 Jun 2011

Last Login: 09 May 2013 10:24:31 AM

And here is what my new profile says (updated today 5/9/2013):

Presidents: Carlos E Madrid (1993 - 1996)

Served: 1993 - 1995

Areas Served: Las Matas, Enriquillo, Sabana Yegua, Cristo Rey, San Geronimo, San Cristobal

Companions: Brent H. Corry | ryan Farmer | Matthew O. Nielsen | Kent Kyle Rowley

Your Occupation: Translations Analyst, writer, secret shopper

Comments: Still no Breen, Beatty, West, Judy, or Hernandez. Donde estan mis panas? I am alive and mostly well* in Denver, CO. My wife and I divorced this past year. No one plans on these things to happen. I love my son, and never get to see him enough. We concentrate on him and his happiness-- and not on the pain that we have caused one another. I have no callings. I am new to this ward, so that may change soon. I won't lie, I am struggling. Not in my testimony, but just in my motivation on Sunday mornings. I am writing part time, still work at AT&T, and I do a second gig as a secret shopper. Yeah-- I keep busy. I am in a relationship with a beautiful woman. We are getting married in September. I will not make all of the old mistakes. No-- I will make all kinds of new mistakes. Life marches on-- and we have to keep moving. *MS update: I still have it. My legs are weak, but I drag myself into work every day regardless.

Created: 14 Jan 2002  Modified: 09 May 2013

Last Login: 09 May 2013 11:02:13 AM

DRAGON HEART

God granted to man a heart with might 

much greater than its size.
The gift of vigor, both broad and deep—
gives man the strength to rise.

For none can face a dragon
and not draw upon this well
of power and courage and fortitude
to pound the gates of Hell.

Dragon hunters are a fearsome lot--
limitations they must shun.
They draw a line, and stand toe to toe,
when instinct shouts at them to run.

With broad sword or spear or hacking axe
they wade in with gusto and ire.
Their small scale 'gainst towering foe
helps avoid the dragon’s fire.

Troy Robert Kahaku Justus

Anyone who doesn't believe in love at first sight has never looked upon their own child for the first time...

That is a quote by me, to my wife, as we both gazed upon our little boy for the first time. What a feeling! What a rush! What the heck were we thinking? Adults are parents. Grown ups raise children. We are The JenBob...we're just kids!

Well I can vouch that man knows no more maturing experience than being a parent. For the first two weeks we went every day to the hospital NICU where he had to improve and grow before coming home to us. Every day we went to the hospital to feed and hold him. They gave us classes on infant CPR, childcare, and basically gave us an edge that most natural parents will never get.

Oh yeah-- did I mention that we adopted him? Yes, two awesome people had an awesome baby, and they chose us to raise that child. Now we are parents to this perfect bundle of wisdom. Teach your parents well, Troy Robert Kahaku Justus.

Double Anchovy and Onion

How does a guy know when a girl is interested in him, and not just his steamy good looks? A guy has many tools at his disposal to test the sincerity of his dates. He can be lucky and have a physical defect from birth…like genetic ugliness, or a cowlick that just won’t lie down, or male pattern baldness. He can utilize supposed personality flaws such as talking too much about himself, giving a play-by-play sports highlights of historic cricket matches. He may even resort to dressing down for the date: wearing stripes with plaids and unmatched socks. In some extreme cases, he may have to fall back on more unconventional options. Sometimes a man’s smokin’ hot vibes will overcome any genetic defects, personality foibles, or fashion faux pas.

I believe that to have been my fate. I wanted a girlfriend: a sincere girl with a sweet disposition and electric sensuality…who wanted me not for the smoldering manhood they saw, but for the trembling child housed within. I had no obvious physical drawbacks, and I had the enviable talent of making the most obsolete subjects sound interesting at dinnertime conversation. My fashion sense, though off-beat, could not downplay my obvious physical charms. I needed a new tool for my arsenal of love. I needed a way to screen out the sex kittens and find the woman for me.

Here is how it all came about:

I went on blind dates while I was in high school. My best friend, Andrew, had the fortune of meeting his future wife (Andrea) at a young age. They had heard enough of my drunken diatribes about how I was not fit for female consumption. They were around for most of my early relationship disasters, so they looked to remedy that by setting me up with Andrea’s friends from the school choir.

We lived in a suburb west of Denver. Truthfully, good places to go out in Lakewood were gems: you had to mine for them. The best places to eat and go on dates were closer to downtown. Our favorite dinnertime destination was a small family owned pizza parlor called Frank the Pizza King. Yes, Frank truly was the king of all pizza. So we would pile into Andrew’s big red Buick: Andy and Andie up front, with me and a random date for the evening in backseat, and head out to Frank’s. The ride into the city would give me ample time to know whether or not the girl was for me or not just by the conversation we had (or didn’t have if that was the case.) When we got to Frank’s and ordered our pizzas, I would give the secret prediction on how I saw the night ending…

I would order a double anchovy and onion pizza.

That’s it. Nothing nixed the prospects of a good night kiss like my pizza of choice. Usually, I didn’t want that good night kiss from whoever I had come with in the backseat of the Buick. Once I ordered the pizza BOOM the date took the idea of the kiss off of the bargaining table. In fact with that she would usually retract the concept of either a snuggle, or more mind numbingly dull conversation.

This pizza had a magical quality about it. Not only did it taste good, but it kept me free of any romantic entanglements. The toppings on the pizza kept an aura of sickliness constantly emanating from my mouth, thus insuring another night of abstinence.

They should teach this in schools today, it would contribute to a drop in teen pregnancies I’m sure.

HOLIDAY SPECTACULAR

Ok...this is a rant, but a rated G rant. This rant is suitable for all audiences.

I hate calling this "the holidays." I know that other holidays come along this time of year besides Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. People celebrate Hanuka, Ramadan, Tet, Winter Solstice, Dongzhi Festival, Soyal, Yalda,  Shabe Yaldā, Mōdraniht, Saturnalia, Pancha Ganapati, Dies Natalis, Solis Invicti, Yule: Pagan, Anastasia of Sirmium, Malkh, Boxing Day, Kwanzaa, Saint Stephen's Day, Saint John the Evangelist's Day, Holy Innocents' Day, Saint Sylvester's Day, Watch Night, New Year's Eve, Hogmanay-- yeah, right, GOT IT.

Still, I do not see any corporations in the United States of America granting a day off for anything but Christmas Day and New Year's Day during the so-called holiday season. So, if we must, in our vanilla-watered-down-everyone-is-equal-please-don't-sue-me society, be politically correct and reduce the single most holy day of the year for the majority of living in North and South America, Europe, Australia, Africa, and the isles of the seas into "the holidays"-- then we must be equal. Corporations must now provide paid days off for ALL or these holidays.

Then, and only then, will I be o.k. with calling this time of year the holiday season.

MERRY CHRISTMAS everybody!

DRAGON HEART

The human heart is given might
much greater than its size.
The gift of vigor, both broad and deep,
providing strength enough to rise.

No man ever faces a dragon
and does not drawn upon this well
of power and courage and fortitude
to knock on the gates of Hell.

Dragon hunters are a fearsome lot--
all limitations they must shun.
They draw a line, and stand toe to toe,
when instinct shouts at them to run.

With broad sword or spear or hacking axe
they wade in with gusto and ire.
For a smaller scale 'gainst towering foe
helps avoid the dragon’s fire.

The Twinkie Thief

Box of Twinkies (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In memory of an American icon that died this day, I relate the following (true) account that highlights just what Twinkies mean to me...

I lived in the Dominican Republic, most of the time in the campo (I guess what you would call the countryside or the provinces.) I spent two years there doing the work of the Lord. I taught people the gospel, I served in their fields, I helped clean up after hurricanes and tropical storms, I helped build houses, I taught people to read, and so much more. It was highly rewarding. However, there was very little comfort. I ate beans and rice and drank Coke (or Pepsi) with every meal (my mantra: nothing can live inside of a Coke bottle.) I only had the occasional treat and it was usually a treat made locally and sold on the street.

My favorite treat growing up has always been the Twinkie. I love Twinkies. In all of that island where worked, I never found anything that even came close to that golden sponge-cake filled with cream. I dreamed of Twinkies...I longed for Twinkies-- but the country had no Twinkies for a hungry young man to consume.

By the end of my service as a missionary, I had not eaten a Twinkie for two years. I told my missionary companions about how much I missed Twinkies. Of course it goes without saying that I told  Elder Nelsen of my love for Twinkies and how I missed them. We worked together for a few months in a town called San Geronimo. Elder Nelson went home six months before me …and he promised to send me a box of Twinkies. I understood, though, that once a guy leaves the mission field, it is hard to fulfill such promises. So I was not surprised when I never received a box of Twinkies.

The night before I went home I was back in the capital. One of the missionaries who worked as an assistant to the mission President (Elder West) and I were walking around the town. We had both come out together, and we were leaving on the plane together in the morning. We were good friends, and this night was our last night on the island.

We ran into a bunch of other missionaries who were sitting outside a corner café. Some of them were very new, and I had not yet met them. Elder West introduced me to the other missionaries, and one of them instantly perked up.

“Justus you say? Elder Justus who served in San Geronimo?” he asked as he shook my hand.

“Yeah.” I answered.

“I have to tell you that you received a package a couple of months ago. We had never heard of you, so we opened it. It was a box of Twinkies.” He said. “We were so happy that we ate them all.”

I just stared at him…waiting for his heartfelt apology. It never came. This was a clearly unrepentant missionary boasting to me of his thievery. For those that may not realize it yet, repentance has certain rules and steps to follow:

1. Recognize that you sinned
2. Feel Godly sorrow for your sin
3. Make amends to those that were wronged by your sin
4. Promise to never repeat that sin again

We went door to door, house to house, every day teaching this to people. This man knew that he sinned….and that is where it ended. He never felt bad about stealing from me. He never even apologized. His repentance was incomplete. He risked his immortal soul-- over Twinkies.

“So that’s it?” I asked, “No apology or anything?”

“No, I’m not even sorry—they were so good.” he said laughing as he walked away.

One day that man, and those who also ate my Twinkies, will stand before God to be judged in this life. I work every day to forgive them. It really hurt me that they would steal from me like that and then go away and teach others the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Hypocrites! At that judgment day, unless I hear from them, I will stand as a witness to their hypocrisy and thievery. My testimony will thrust them down to Hell.

Now the company that makes Twinkies (Hostess) is going out of business. Those men will never have the opportunity to fully repent. Without a Twinkie in the world, they cannot make a full restitution. How can I properly forgive them without savoring one more Twinkie. I never knew that my last Twinkie would be my LAST Twinkie.

That is the story of the Twinkie thief. I work every day to forgive them of their sin against me, a fellow servant of God. Why would you steal a man's Twinkies? Why?

RIP TWINKIES

1930 - 2012

Words With Strangers

As I have delved deeper into the mindless shallows of Facebook, of course I have become enthralled with the games that I can play. I have farmed in three different communities, managed my own café, settled the frontier, lived the cosmopolitan life in a town called YoVille, battled super-heroes, whacked rival Mafiosos, created my own theme park, hunted hidden items, raised dragons, created medieval and post-modern civilizations, waged modern warfare, and built my own city. I feuded with my families, played Banagrams, rock/paper/scissors, slots, bingo, answered Jeopardy-style, got the price right, and spun the wheel of fortune. Of all of these games, the one that excites me most…the only one that has never bored me into blocking it forever, is Words with Friends.

Words With Friends is not true Scrabble (I played that and eventually dropped it.) It is, however, Srabble-esque in nature. Instead of adhering to the very restrictive Scrabble dictionary, Words With Friends has its own very liberal dictionary. It allows some foreign words, albeit on a completely arbitrary basis, it allows slang, it allows many more possibilities—though the game board and tile values mirror Scrabble almost identically. For those of a literarily challenged nature, one can download the a Words With Friends cheat to make themselves more competitive.

I started out playing with my wife, a few mutual friends, my sister, my mother, my cousin’s wife (my greatest competitor and arch-nemesis), and some friends from work. At any given point in time I probably had 10-16 games going. It was a heady and exciting time of life. Pulling an 86 point word like JEOPARDIZE out of my—well—from out of nowhere for the win is gratifying. Also, if Alec Baldwin is right, it is a game for smart people…and it sure makes me feel smart.

Enter the summer of 2012 and the decision that I had wrestled with since the beginning of that previous year: divorce. I left my wife (NOT my son) knowing that the decision came with backlash. I would lose friends…even though they assured me that they were still my friends, things would forever be different. I would lose standing in my church (Mormons do not accept divorce lightly.) I would lose time with my son (at least until a judge can award some back to me.) I prepared myself for all of these contingencies, but it did not prepare me for the one loss that came from left field—Words With Friends.

First the obvious ones dropped me like a heated stone: friends that came through my soon-to-be ex-wife’s family members. Then the friends that we shared mutually resigned their games and disappeared into the night. Then church members dropped off the grid. Then family members—yes my own family members, fell away from the light and truth of literary gamesmanship. Workmates who apparently took her storyline without listening to mine were next to go in the great Words With Friends exodus. Finally, Words With Friends became Words With Friend—my arch-nemesis…and then she too was gone.

Still addicted to the game, and unwilling to give it up, I resorted to pushing the “random opponent” button and starting games with just anybody. I did not care if they used the cheat. I did not care if they were English doctoral candidates. I just wanted to play. So now my game has changed completely from Words With Friends…to Words With Friend…to…

…Words With Strangers.