Bankruptcy
In the years my daughter’s mother and I were together we managed to rack up a ton of debt. We had credit cards for everything. We paid as little as we could and had collectors after us all the time. Back then if your credit was bad, your loan request was simply denied. Now, things are different. After my wife and I split up, we kept in touch to discuss Indira. During one of those phone calls, I learned that my ex was filing for bankruptcy. She mentioned it casually, but I was concerned. I wanted to know how it would affect me. I had never had a conversation about bankruptcy and thought I’d better do some research. I learned that if my ex filed for bankruptcy, then the debts would be handed down to me. I was stunned once again. I had no idea how much we owed and how much she racked up without my knowing. She had spent and spent and spent behind my back. She had her own cards that I didn’t even know about, but that I would be responsible for unless I filed too. I spoke to my dad and brother about the concept of filing. Dad was old school and thought that filing for bankruptcy was the last straw, and therefore, not an option. Same with Bill. Bill suggested I just get more jobs and pay down the debt “no matter how long it takes.” I thought that was a noble idea, but my life now was about spending more time with my daughter, not less. And the daycare expenses would kill me. I’d never get ahead. That’s when I decided to talk with the same paralegal who had helped me file for divorce. I had her file my bankruptcy. It was a rough process and a tough time, and the decision affected my life in many ways for years to come. But it was the right decision for me. I cleaned up my financial life and moved on. During that time, I learned something I’ll never forget. I’ve remembered it often when others have asked me for advice: Filing for bankruptcy is a business decision, not a moral one. I never heard that phrase when I went through bankruptcy, but it really applies.
I had to go to court to face my creditors. If my creditors appeared in court, they would be entitled to tell me how much to pay, and when to pay it. I would be forced to comply. I was scared, and learning lessons minute by minute. Luckily for me, none of the creditors appeared in court that day. The judge said that as a result, I was free from my debts. Because of the bankruptcy, my credit would be even worse than it had been with all that debt, but after a period of good behavior, I would be free from that blemish as well.
For years, the bank that financed our used Jeep Grand Cherokee chased after me, trying to get to my ex-wife. When I left my ex, kiddo and I left everything behind, including that Jeep. I found out that later, my ex “gave” that Jeep to a friend, assuming the friend would pay off the rest of the loan, which they did not. The mom was unreachable because she never paid taxes, and worked for cash, so when the friend defaulted on the loan, the bank came for me. It took weeks for me to collect all the documentation to prove that I had filed bankruptcy, and was not responsible for that debt. But I did so to the banks satisfaction and was sent a document from the collection agency that I was in fact free and they would stop bothering me. They did.
I started getting credit reports to monitor my history and found many, many things I never signed up for. I disputed many things that the mom had started after our split using my name and info. They were easy to dispute and the mom has never paid any consequences that I know of regarding all the scams she ran and may run today.
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After about two years away from my ex, and being stuck in New Mexico with no spouse to help raise our child or earn money, I was in a tough spot. I needed help and support, and Sue was providing that, but it wasn’t the same as having an intact family. We lived with Sue for almost a year. She welcomed us with open arms, and we’ll never forget her for opening up her house and her heart to us the way she did. Still, with so many unresolved issues in my own life, I knew I had to try to make it on my own with kiddo. It wouldn’t be easy; we’d be giving up a lot if we moved out of Sue’s place and went to live by ourselves. But we had to try it, and Sue understood, so we got a small, one-bedroom apartment. Kiddo had the bedroom and I slept on the floor in the living room. It was cute and kiddo made a friend right away.
During this time, the mom was calling regularly, saying she “learned her lesson,” and had stopped fooling around and gotten her act together. She told me how she was still “dancing” (her word for stripping), but focusing on becoming a “headliner,” and that the money was now rolling in. She was still living in the same apartment, and begged me to please move back there. Wait. Did you say, “move back there?” Yes. After all that had been said and done it seemed the mom was willing to co-parent and raise our daughter right, if I would just go back to Virginia. Her plan was to arrange for an apartment for kiddo and me in the same building she was living in. We could share the responsibilities, I could return to Dave Adams and The Birdland Express, and life would be great because I’d have help with Indira.
Meanwhile, divisions between my brother and me were developing, and dad was just as vague about everything as he ever was. I never counted on my family in New Mexico not living up to my hopes and expectations, but that was exactly what was happening. They never came to visit Indira and me at our place, and if I wasn’t taking kiddo to visit them on their terms, they didn’t see her and they blamed me for that. One night I had a gig and I took kiddo to my dad’s house (really his wife’s house—he had moved in with her). It wasn’t fun: two barking dogs in an old lady house. “Don’t touch that, don’t touch that” she said as she followed kiddo around the house. Kiddo hated the place, and frankly so did I. My dad and his wife agreed to watch kiddo for about two hours, then put her to bed, and I would pick her up the next morning. But that’s not how things went. During the gig, my dad called and said that Indira was sick and throwing up, and I should pick her up after the gig. Thanks for taking care of kiddo, Dad. I couldn’t rely on him to help me. My heart sank. As soon as I could after the gig, I ran off to pick up a very nauseated kiddo. She was sick like that a lot back in those days, because life was so chaotic. I began to entertain the idea my ex-wife had, and it started making sense. I thought about it for weeks. Eventually I decided to move back to Virginia.
Return to Virginia
My family, and Sue, and everyone else that I told were completely against the idea of me moving back to Virginia with Indira. Once again, I thought they didn’t “understand.” And rather than hear my family’s protests, I refused to listen to reason. I thought that things would be different this time. After all, Indira’s mom promised that everything would be different, right? Oh brother.
Kiddo was still young enough that she knew only that we were going to see mommy. She really wasn’t that surprised. Since I was driving my brother Bill’s car around those days, I knew I’d need my own car to get to Virginia. Though she didn’t want us to leave, Sue “sold” me her old Saab with a bad transmission. I got a loan and bought it from her. We both signed the loan. But it wasn’t really “sale”: since I needed a car, and Sue said she was planning on trading in the Saab, she basically gave it to me. The deal was, if I bought it back, okay. If not, that was okay too. Thanks again Sue.
So we packed the car, and Indira and I drove to Virginia, staying in hotels along the way. She loved it, and so did I. Kiddo slept most of the way—I put her in a car seat and out she’d go. That made it easy for me. It’s amazing to see how some kids adapt. We didn’t deviate much from the highway to sightsee but still we saw a lot and had a fun time.
We finally arrived late in the morning on a nice summer day. I wasn’t making a big deal out of seeing “Mommy” at this point. I was always waiting to see if kiddo would mention it or bring it up. Outside the apartment building. Kiddo just followed my lead, even though she knew where we were, what was significant about it. We walked past the front desk staff and smiled. We went to the door of my ex’s new apartment. I had left my ex in a two bedroom, and now she had a studio. I had to knock and knock and knock before she came to the door. She was happy to see Indira, but I was stunned. The place was a mess. There were tons of c
igarette butts in the ashtrays and all kinds of smoking paraphernalia throughout the apartment. Holy crap. I’ve been duped . . . again.
Within 5 minutes I realized I had been lied to for many months. Indira’s mother was no different from when I had left her. Damn. From a strategic standpoint, she had just won a heavy round. I was in once again without money or resources, and I couldn’t turn around and walk out the door forever. But that is exactly what I wanted to do, what I needed to do.
I was reeling. I would have to ride out the next few months, and try to correct my out-of-control life. Now I was in her territory and it didn’t feel good. I had a short lease agreement with the apartment management, and I was bound to it. Was the lease three months? I can’t remember. It was a blur.
My ex’s life was a blur, too. She had a roommate, another stripper from the club where she worked. They smoked pot, listened to loud music and fought like cats and dogs. One night they actually broke into a fistfight in front of kiddo and me. I broke the fight up. I allowed kiddo to visit with her mom each day for just an hour or so, then I took her out of there.
It would have been a great arrangement if we had been different people. The apartments were great. We were right across the street from the Atlantic ocean, and Indira and I went on beach walks. She had no friends there while we were there, so I was the closest thing she had to a friend. We were extremely close. The mom had her own life, which was her “job,” friends, and partying, and she wasn’t interested in kiddo . . . still. I couldn’t believe I was back in this awful situation. Again.
Escape from Virginia: Redux
So I planned our escape, again. New Mexico was the destination, again. I would have left sooner but there were serious legal ramifications for breaking the apartment lease, and I wanted to be able to rent again when Indira and I returned to New Mexico. Although the help of family and friends was waning there, it was better than starting fresh in New York City. I felt kiddo wouldn’t stand the change. She’d been through enough. We both had. Indira’s mom and her roommate were “working” for cash daily, and they left piles of money lying around their place all the time. I decided that when my lease was up, I’d take a little “loan” from the ladies to help fund my cause. It worked well. I scored rather well. I put the money together and kiddo and I planned our escape.
That time we left a little differently. We took our time, because I didn’t feel the heat was on. I knew my ex wasn’t going to call the authorities, but I did want to buy some time. So I left a note saying we’d be out and about till later on in the evening. That enabled us to get far away before she would think of looking for us, or if so inclined, physically come after us. I was sure she wouldn’t come after us. I had seen all I had to see once and for all. I’d been a fool all along. “Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me” is the old saying. I had to grow some guts and prove once and for all it was going to be just kiddo and me. That was final.
We packed what we could into the old Saab and away we went. We took Phoebe with us that time, because we were driving. We had had to leave her with my ex the last time, because we left on a plane, she wasn’t allowed onboard. Not this time. Phoebe didn’t like being with my ex, anyway. Things were too chaotic for a neurotic dog like her, and Phoebe’s hair was falling out. No more. Phoebe too would be saved.
We drove. When we arrived in Tennessee, we began an adventure that seemed never-ending. We stopped to have a bite to eat. It was probably about 5pm and we chose a family style restaurant. When we’d finished, we got in the car, and it wouldn’t start. My heart sank. I tried and tried, but I had no luck. I had been having trouble with it for months. I knew the transmission was faulty, but also, the alternator and battery were fading fast. In the past, all I had to do was get a jump from a friendly passer-by, and the car would run again. But this was more serious--I couldn’t get the car to go, and I had just enough money in my pocket to get us home. I wasn’t sure how I was going to pay for repairs, if the car needed any.
It was late Friday afternoon, and I had to call a tow truck, and stay the night in a motel. The next morning, Saturday, we had breakfast, and I called the garage. The car wasn’t ready, so we went outside and explored. By 11am, the car still wasn’t ready, and we had to check out of our room. There was no place to go. We had walk around outside on the motel grounds, killing time for hours, like nomads. It was hot, my money was almost gone, and that Saturday dragged on and on. I called the garage every couple of hours to see how the repairs were going, and the car still wasn’t fixed by that afternoon.
We had to stay another night in Tennessee, and I knew I couldn’t afford that. I would have to ask for help from my family to pay for another night in a motel, because I was down to my last few quarters. I used those quarters to call my dad.
I dreaded making the call, thinking that there would be plenty of “I told you so’s” and opinions, and possibly rejection. Over the years my parents let me make a lot of mistakes, many of which they paid for, financially and emotionally. Many times my dad paid my way out of trouble, particularly with cars, and he never asked me to pay him back. (Thanks, Dad.) I’m happy to say that my dad and I made our peace before he passed, and I would have paid back every dime if he let me. But I probably would still be paying him today. He knew that. He also knew that having kids would mean caring for them financially, and in his case, maybe he cared more than he should have. He even left us something when he died.
When I spoke to my dad, I was embarrassed, but he was warm, loving, caring and comforting. Money didn’t matter, he said. Just get to a safe, clean hotel, he said, and call him when we got there. We walked to the Comfort Inn, which was right nearby, and when we got there, I called my dad, and he took care of everything. He even said he’d pay for the car repairs. I was so relieved. That night, we slept like babies.
The next morning, I called the garage. The car was finally ready, so I called my dad again, and he took care of paying for the repairs over the phone. I said "thank you" to the garage guys, I put kiddo in her car seat, I put Phoebe in the car next to her, and away we went. I decided to drive all the way to New Mexico from Tennessee, non-stop if at all possible. As I drove away from Tennessee I swore I’d never return. That was a tough weekend. Now, when I think about it, I am grateful for the help the garage gave me, and the way my dad took care of my family and me.
New Mexico, redux
When we got back to New Mexico, we got a little apartment, and then it was time to focus on Indira. She’d been uprooted too many times, and she needed some stability. Gigs were too few and far between at that point and I wanted to just focus on establishing a routine. We both needed one badly. I thought the best thing for her was to get her socializing with her peers. I had dreamed of home schooling her, but my life was upside down, and I wasn’t able to focus on all that and teach kiddo what she needed to learn. I noticed that near our apartment, there was a Montessori school. I thought it might be a good fit for kiddo, because I was still not sure about putting her in public school, but private school was definitely not a financial possibility. I investigated the school, and it turned out that my brother Bill knew the people who owned the school--he owned the building they occupied.
The school had a sliding scale fee system, so I could afford to send Indira there. The husband and wife that owned the school were from New York City, and had thicker accents than I. It was so refreshing to speak with New Yorkers daily, at least for a few minutes. I enjoyed the interactions, I liked the people, and I felt good about Indira attending the school.
Indira attended the Montessori school for awhile, but her time there didn’t last as long as I thought it would. For one thing, she didn’t like the style of learning, and complained daily. At first, I paid no attention, thinking she was just being fussy about having to spend her days with someone other than Daddy. I couldn’t blame her—it was new and different to her. I thought she would adjust. But then the school raised its tuition rates, and my paychecks were
not going up, so I knew I wouldn’t be able to afford it anymore. I asked my family and kiddos grandparents if they would help pay for some of the tuition at her school. No one offered to help. I knew Montessori had to go, and kiddo didn’t like it anyway. I had to find an alternative.
I was working, and couldn’t watch Indira during the day, so I checked out daycare, and learned that, like the Montessori school, it was expensive. But it was the only option at that time, so Indira and I visited many daycares, and met many people. Some we liked, others we did not like at all. Finally, I decided that Kindercare was a great fit. One of the requirements for enrollment there was immunizing Indira. Early on, Indira’s mother and I had agreed that we didn’t want to immunize Indira, but there was no way to avoid doing it if I wanted her to go to Kindercare. To this day, I deeply regret immunizing kiddo, because she hated having all those shots. I took kiddo to the doctor’s office and she got 4 or 5 shots all at once. I held her in my arms while the she got the shots, and we were both crying. It was horrible. But Kindercare Daycare was one of the best in New Mexico, and Indira was happy there. I took her there in the mornings and spent a little time with her there, then I left to go to work. Eventually, she became friends with the assistant director’s two little girls, and they had play dates.