This divorce was inevitable

We tried. But, this marriage just isn’t working out. We stayed together for the sake of the kids. Until now, we avoided divorce, but they are suffering. It’s not fair to them. We need to move on.

I believe even God wanted it to work. It did for years. Through thick and thin, each of us found a way to compromise. There were times we put the needs of the other above our own, but no more.

We’ve been through a lot together. Next month, we could have celebrated our 243^rd anniversary.

Remember the day we took our vows? July 4, 1776. Standing before one another and God, we said, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all people are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”

A few years later, we renewed our vows, committed to “a more perfect” marriage, and worked together to “establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty” to ourselves, our children and our grandchildren.

As time passed, those vows gave way to selfish partisanship.

Along the way we recognized what we ignored for decades before consummating our union. Some of our children were women, others were people of color. Mea culpa. A privileged white male, I didn’t acknowledge that in the beginning. A few decades into our marriage, I could see that a union conceived in inequality could not endure half slave and half free. We nearly divorced then because you were willing to fight rather than change.

Like many abused spouses, I thought you could change over time. And you did, a little. You started listening to the women in the family in 1920. Our Native American children became citizens in 1924.

For years, we tried to sweep our feelings under the rug. Still, our children of color suffered alongside our poor children, those who were ill, and those who were different. But, we remembered our vows and we thought we could work it out. Along came a couple of World Wars. People went to work. Side by side. Men to war. Women in defense industries. Gays. Lesbians. White. Black. Brown. Butchers, bakers and candlestick makers. All reported. Some died. Some didn’t. The war ended.

Life resumed. We decided our children would now be equal. Separate but equal. Schools, jobs,  public swimming pools, restaurants, motels, colleges, military units, bathrooms. All of our children had one. The promises of equality were supposed to trickle down to everyone.

Then the marriage counselor told us to bring the entire family together as one. E Pluribus Unum, you know. Everyone was entitled to a place at the same dinner table. That seemed to be what Jesus was telling us, at least until you started attending that other church.

Our old friend Martin assured us the arc of our marriage was bent inevitably toward what was right. I believed him. You even quoted him.

I didn’t realize you were being unfaithful. I became concerned when I walked in and found you cuddling with Fox News and Rush Limbaugh. It became obvious when you started abusing our gay, adopted, and poor children.

I began worrying you might leave us for a Trump. Still, I never thought you’d be gleeful when your iniquitous new partner dissed a former POW or set out to destroy the foundations of our marriage. I couldn’t believe you would kidnap the neighbor’s children and lock them in cages. I thought we’d moved beyond racism, homophobia, and misogyny. I never thought you’d backslide so easily into your old ways.

After 243 years, do you still have to be told those things are wrong? We call ourselves united, but  no longer work together to secure “the blessings of liberty” to ourselves and our grandchildren. Sadly, the time has come to go our own way.

As Ray Charles would say, hit the road Jack.