Thursday, February 16, 2012
My Daughter Alexandra's 30th Birthday - Continued
Then, it was back to Woodstock. 360 S. Madison.
Alexandra was an active happy child.
I remember coming home on sunny afternoon and finding Robin holding the energetic one near the top of the stairs.
Robin was bedraggled.
She told me that Alexandra had kept her running to much that she had not yet had time to eat anything.
That was about the time that Alexandra learned to walk. 16 months old.
She was already talking up a storm and Robin told me she threw up her arms as she took her first steps and exclaimed, “I doed it!”
Sometime in July Robin filed divorce papers. Her first attorney, our friend Janice Johnston met me at the train station, told me about it and that my car was packed with my things and in the driveway.
Anyone who has gone through a divorce they didn't want can relate to that day. I hope the rest of you never have to go through the experience.
Think of the stages of grief. I'm sure I went through all of them.
I went to visit Alexandra that first weekend and things went fine.
“Daddy read to me,” she said, going into the little study time after time after time to get a new book.
Then I was told that I could not see her again until after the first court hearing, which was 21 days away.
Talk about cruel and unusual punishment.
At that first court hearing, my father-in-law told me I could have my daughter or my political career.
I told him I would chose my daughter.
I am sure that surprised him.
I won't go into the details of the trial, but let me give one example of the multiple motions that were filed, this one after the divorce was pretty much finalized.
The decision had been made that Alexandra would be raised Jewish. Robin said that Jewish tradition said that the child followed the mother's religion.
I figured that was a victory, since Robin was a declared atheist until after Alexandra's birth.
After we got back to Woodstock, Robin and I were looking at this precious gift from God and I asked, “How can you be an atheist?”
“OK,” she replied, “I'll be an agnostic.”
One step at a time, I guess.
In any event on probably the first visitation after the divorce, I took Alexandra to a fall craft show at the First Methodist Church of Crystal Lake.
She was enamored with Sesame Street and Big Bird in particular.
She found a Big Bird clothes pin. Tiny yellow feathers sticking out.
She carried it everywhere that weekend.
Even on the monkey bars outside the church.
The next Wednesday, I was served with papers charging that I was violating the agreement that Alexandra would be raised Jewish.
But let me get back to the happier times after the divorce.
The first time Robin dropped Alexandra off at my parents' home, where I was living, she wanted to get in the boat, which we had just taken out of Crystal Lake.
I remember her waving good-bye while standing in it.
I had found a little book which talked about God. Probably still have it in the trunk with Alexandra memory joggers.
Nothing about Jesus. Just God.
I figured there could be no objection to that.
I read it to Alexandra several times.
She slept in the little bedroom that became our son's baby room thirteen years later.
I was in the bedroom around the stairs.
When I woke up, there was this little face, about the same level as my face, looking at me.
Not saying anything. Just looking.
It reminded me of the first time I visited Alexandra at Robin's highrise apartment next to the Latin Day School in Chicago.
At some point near the end of the two-hour Saturday visit, Alexandra asked, “Where Daddy sleep?”
Robin said there was no room.
Alexandra took both of our hands and led us to her bedroom.
“Daddy sleep here,” she said as she pointed to the floor next to her bed.
During one of the four every other weekend visits I had before Robin was allowed to move to the Boca Raton Hotel and Club apartment, I was sitting next to Alexandra in the living room and started crying.
“Why Daddy cry?” the little one asked.
“Because I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to see you again.”
From the answer I am dredging up from my memory, I guess it was Thanksgiving Weekend.
The earliest memory I have is a painful one.
I remember a lot from that day we visited a great-uncle and aunt (Phil and Lois Dolson) in northern New Jersey. The great-aunt's father had been Thomas Edison's secretary.
In any event, here was this little boy in the bathroom tying to wash his hands. I climbed up on a stool and fell forward cracking one or two of my baby teeth.
Oh, the pain.
But I remember things from that day.
I remember my uncle blowing smoke out of his ear. I remember his pulling a quarter out of my ear.
That was the first time I saw the Statue of Liberty.
Maybe Alexandra remembers something from the day I cried (actually one of two...for the same reason,
same question from my daughter but the first was in Lake Forest during a visitation.)
Probably not. She was so young.
With clothes pin Big Bird in hand, we then went to the Crystal Lake Police Department to get Alexandra's finger prints taken.
When I told her what we were doing, she started screaming, “I don't need it. I don't need it.”
Repeatedly.
I think it was a police woman who took her into a room and did her prints.
As she was washing her hands, she said, “That didn't hurt a bit.”
I planted tulips on the hill between the little evergreen bushes we had planted in an attempt to block some of the noise from the Lake Avenue traffic.
She was determined to help me water the bulbs.
She got a little wet, but really enjoyed it.
One weekend we walked down to Crystal Lake's Beach 7.
As we were on our way I got a leg hug.
Now, leg hugs are a big deal.
When we got to the beach there was some foam at the edge.
“Can I touch it?” she asked.
Told she could, a hand tentatively explored a new sensation.
I mentioned the “God book” I read Alexandra the first post-visitation decree vist.
Two weeks later when Robin dropped her off, she ran to the house, saying, “Read the God book.”
Repeatedly.
I had to instruct her to wave good-bye to her mother.
Then it was off to read the God book.
I could ramble on more, but let me end with my thanks to God for the two and three-quarter years I was allowed to be with Alexandra.
I should also mention that the parental kidnapping charges have been dropped, just in case Darlene Cohen did not convey my phone message to Robin.
= = = = =
The first part of the article:
My Daughter Alexandra's 30th Birthday
In 1982, I was running for State Comptroller, probably to test my hypothesis that one could not win a office above State Senator without selling one's soul. (Needless to say, I lost. To incumbent Roland Burris, no less. Soul still intact.)
My wife Robin was pregnant with our daughter Alexandra.
Speeches were scheduled in the Chicago area so I could get back for the birth.
As the due date approached, first I told audiences that Alexandra was expected on Lincoln's Birthday. I think that was in Oak Park.
That came and went.
Next, we aimed for Valentine's Day. Was it Lyons' Township?
Nothing happened that day either.
My memory is a little fuzzy at this point.
My wife was going into labor.
So it was home and off to the hospital.
I remember driving her through the toll booth and wondering if we would be on time.
But I also remember being at former House Speaker Bob Blair's downtown hotel fund raiser in his candidacy for State Treasurer and getting a message to come forthwith.
The baby was not turned head down, so the next day a Caesarian was decided upon.
Since I had not taken the Caesarian course. I couldn't be in the delivery room.
So, there I was sitting in a little room along a hall. Reading a book, of course.
I thought that this was a typical Dagwood delivery where the father was clueless while a momentous event was taking place nearby.
With Robin in recovery, Robin's parents and I went into some room and held the precious gift from God.
We took turns holding the little creature, her head no larger than my fist.
Then, it was off to the nursery for Baby Alexandra.
Governor Jim Thompson, for whom Robin was a youth organizer who became his campaign photographer (“What is that clicking around me knees?”) sent Alexandra a Teddy Bear for which she thanked him in person during the McHenry County Republican Play Day about a year and a half later, Robin told me. (I was in Springfield during session weeks working as transportation adivsor to then-House Speaker George Ryan. The RTA went away as a political issue that year.)
I remember when some hospital employee came in with the Birth Certificate. Strangely, it did not have a space for both the mother's and father's signature. I got the privilege of signing it.
We went to the nearby apartment which Robin's parents, Herb and Millicent Geist, had been kind enough to have set us up in temporarily.
That second-floor efficiency had 1950's white kitchen cabinets.
I remember going to sleep with Alexandra on my chest.
Alexandra was an active happy child.
I remember coming home on sunny afternoon and finding Robin holding the energetic one near the top of the stairs.
Robin was bedraggled.
She told me that Alexandra had kept her running to much that she had not yet had time to eat anything.
That was about the time that Alexandra learned to walk. 16 months old.
She was already talking up a storm and Robin told me she threw up her arms as she took her first steps and exclaimed, “I doed it!”
Sometime in July Robin filed divorce papers. Her first attorney, our friend Janice Johnston met me at the train station, told me about it and that my car was packed with my things and in the driveway.
Anyone who has gone through a divorce they didn't want can relate to that day. I hope the rest of you never have to go through the experience.
Think of the stages of grief. I'm sure I went through all of them.
I went to visit Alexandra that first weekend and things went fine.
“Daddy read to me,” she said, going into the little study time after time after time to get a new book.
Then I was told that I could not see her again until after the first court hearing, which was 21 days away.
Talk about cruel and unusual punishment.
At that first court hearing, my father-in-law told me I could have my daughter or my political career.
I told him I would chose my daughter.
I am sure that surprised him.
I won't go into the details of the trial, but let me give one example of the multiple motions that were filed, this one after the divorce was pretty much finalized.
The decision had been made that Alexandra would be raised Jewish. Robin said that Jewish tradition said that the child followed the mother's religion.
I figured that was a victory, since Robin was a declared atheist until after Alexandra's birth.
After we got back to Woodstock, Robin and I were looking at this precious gift from God and I asked, “How can you be an atheist?”
“OK,” she replied, “I'll be an agnostic.”
One step at a time, I guess.
In any event on probably the first visitation after the divorce, I took Alexandra to a fall craft show at the First Methodist Church of Crystal Lake.
She was enamored with Sesame Street and Big Bird in particular.
She found a Big Bird clothes pin. Tiny yellow feathers sticking out.
She carried it everywhere that weekend.
Even on the monkey bars outside the church.
The next Wednesday, I was served with papers charging that I was violating the agreement that Alexandra would be raised Jewish.
But let me get back to the happier times after the divorce.
The first time Robin dropped Alexandra off at my parents' home, where I was living, she wanted to get in the boat, which we had just taken out of Crystal Lake.
I remember her waving good-bye while standing in it.
I had found a little book which talked about God. Probably still have it in the trunk with Alexandra memory joggers.
Nothing about Jesus. Just God.
I figured there could be no objection to that.
I read it to Alexandra several times.
She slept in the little bedroom that became our son's baby room thirteen years later.
I was in the bedroom around the stairs.
When I woke up, there was this little face, about the same level as my face, looking at me.
Not saying anything. Just looking.
It reminded me of the first time I visited Alexandra at Robin's highrise apartment next to the Latin Day School in Chicago.
At some point near the end of the two-hour Saturday visit, Alexandra asked, “Where Daddy sleep?”
Robin said there was no room.
Alexandra took both of our hands and led us to her bedroom.
“Daddy sleep here,” she said as she pointed to the floor next to her bed.
During one of the four every other weekend visits I had before Robin was allowed to move to the Boca Raton Hotel and Club apartment, I was sitting next to Alexandra in the living room and started crying.
“Why Daddy cry?” the little one asked.
“Because I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to see you again.”
From the answer I am dredging up from my memory, I guess it was Thanksgiving Weekend.
The earliest memory I have is a painful one.
I remember a lot from that day we visited a great-uncle and aunt (Phil and Lois Dolson) in northern New Jersey. The great-aunt's father had been Thomas Edison's secretary.
In any event, here was this little boy in the bathroom tying to wash his hands. I climbed up on a stool and fell forward cracking one or two of my baby teeth.
Oh, the pain.
But I remember things from that day.
I remember my uncle blowing smoke out of his ear. I remember his pulling a quarter out of my ear.
That was the first time I saw the Statue of Liberty.
Maybe Alexandra remembers something from the day I cried (actually one of two...for the same reason,
same question from my daughter but the first was in Lake Forest during a visitation.)
Probably not. She was so young.
With clothes pin Big Bird in hand, we then went to the Crystal Lake Police Department to get Alexandra's finger prints taken.
When I told her what we were doing, she started screaming, “I don't need it. I don't need it.”
Repeatedly.
I think it was a police woman who took her into a room and did her prints.
As she was washing her hands, she said, “That didn't hurt a bit.”
I planted tulips on the hill between the little evergreen bushes we had planted in an attempt to block some of the noise from the Lake Avenue traffic.
She was determined to help me water the bulbs.
She got a little wet, but really enjoyed it.
One weekend we walked down to Crystal Lake's Beach 7.
As we were on our way I got a leg hug.
Now, leg hugs are a big deal.
When we got to the beach there was some foam at the edge.
“Can I touch it?” she asked.
Told she could, a hand tentatively explored a new sensation.
I mentioned the “God book” I read Alexandra the first post-visitation decree vist.
Two weeks later when Robin dropped her off, she ran to the house, saying, “Read the God book.”
Repeatedly.
I had to instruct her to wave good-bye to her mother.
Then it was off to read the God book.
I could ramble on more, but let me end with my thanks to God for the two and three-quarter years I was allowed to be with Alexandra.
I should also mention that the parental kidnapping charges have been dropped, just in case Darlene Cohen did not convey my phone message to Robin.
= = = = =
The first part of the article:
My Daughter Alexandra's 30th Birthday
In 1982, I was running for State Comptroller, probably to test my hypothesis that one could not win a office above State Senator without selling one's soul. (Needless to say, I lost. To incumbent Roland Burris, no less. Soul still intact.)
My wife Robin was pregnant with our daughter Alexandra.
Speeches were scheduled in the Chicago area so I could get back for the birth.
As the due date approached, first I told audiences that Alexandra was expected on Lincoln's Birthday. I think that was in Oak Park.
That came and went.
Next, we aimed for Valentine's Day. Was it Lyons' Township?
Nothing happened that day either.
My memory is a little fuzzy at this point.
My wife was going into labor.
So it was home and off to the hospital.
I remember driving her through the toll booth and wondering if we would be on time.
But I also remember being at former House Speaker Bob Blair's downtown hotel fund raiser in his candidacy for State Treasurer and getting a message to come forthwith.
The baby was not turned head down, so the next day a Caesarian was decided upon.
Since I had not taken the Caesarian course. I couldn't be in the delivery room.
So, there I was sitting in a little room along a hall. Reading a book, of course.
I thought that this was a typical Dagwood delivery where the father was clueless while a momentous event was taking place nearby.
With Robin in recovery, Robin's parents and I went into some room and held the precious gift from God.
We took turns holding the little creature, her head no larger than my fist.
Then, it was off to the nursery for Baby Alexandra.
Governor Jim Thompson, for whom Robin was a youth organizer who became his campaign photographer (“What is that clicking around me knees?”) sent Alexandra a Teddy Bear for which she thanked him in person during the McHenry County Republican Play Day about a year and a half later, Robin told me. (I was in Springfield during session weeks working as transportation adivsor to then-House Speaker George Ryan. The RTA went away as a political issue that year.)
I remember when some hospital employee came in with the Birth Certificate. Strangely, it did not have a space for both the mother's and father's signature. I got the privilege of signing it.
We went to the nearby apartment which Robin's parents, Herb and Millicent Geist, had been kind enough to have set us up in temporarily.
That second-floor efficiency had 1950's white kitchen cabinets.
I remember going to sleep with Alexandra on my chest.
# posted by Cal Skinner : 7:28 PM
