About eight yerars ago, I happened by the mother of my children on a public street and in the course of the next minute I asked her fifteen very specific questions about them, not one of which was answered by her. She was in the company at the time of her current husband, his adult son and daughter-in-law, several twenty-something persons, a couple of younger persons and an adult German Shepard. All were deaf, dumb and mute during this 60-second encounter, although most or all of them knew the answers to all of the brief questions. I had not spoken with her for several years before this encounter, nor have I spoken with her since. I have not spoken with any of my children, nor received any meaningful information about them from her in about a decade and a half. She poisoned the minds of these three tender minors (now full-grown adults, at least one who is or was married and reputedly there are at least two grandchildren of mine now in the mix) during the multi-year quarter-million dollar divorce through the phenomenon of Parental Alienation Syndrome, a public scourge perpetrated and perpetuated by persons of the basest of human nature (usually women in our judicial system's Mother Knows Best extreme bias, but men can effect this childhood-wrecking family-killing horror-show too).
"Hello, Sharon. Regarding Jimmy, our oldest child, is he alive?" Brief pause, during which there is no answer. "Is he well?" No answer. "Is he married?" No answer. "Does he have any children?" No answer. "Where does he live?" No answer.
Regarding Johnny, our middle child, is he alive?" Brief pause, during which there is no answer. "Is he well?" No answer. "Is he married?" No answer. "Does he have any children?" No answer. "Where does he live?" No answer.
Regarding Danny, our youngest child, is he alive?" Brief pause, during which there is no answer. "Is he well?" No answer. "Is he married?" No answer. "Does he have any children?" No answer. "Where does he live?" No answer.
I stopped walking alongside the group of people as they continued their walk along the public street, saying, "That's information any parent would tell the other parent." Brief pause. "I'm sorry for you." Then they were gone. That's the sort of person she is, and the Lightbournes apparently are.
Happy seventieth, Sharon. I hope you have a wonderful day in your special way.
