SURVIVING DIVORCE -- THE CHILDREN MAKE IT POSSIBLE

To the  allegro of Mozart’s sixteenth piano sonato, as Andras Schiff does his keyboard glory, followed by soprano Sumi Jo belting out Wolfie’s Queen of the Night aria from  Magic Flute, and clarinetist Franklin Cohen mouthing the young genius’s adagio with the Cleveland Orchestra from his A-major clarinet concerto, and the glorious adagio from Mozart’s Bb-major oboe piece played by Jack Brymer with London Wind Soloists, I think about the devastation of divorce.. It’s been eleven years since my wife and mother of our four daughters left me, our home and pony farm in Front Royal, Virginia. I still wonder what went wrong. Half of all marriages in America go awry, end up dissolved in divorce, with children shattered over family dissolution and having to pick up the pieces. First daughter Leslie got married to Noah a few months ago and already birthed my first grand-daughter, Claire Thomas -- the middle name for Tommy Mayo, her mother’s grandfather and wonderful  tall Norfolk, Virginia policeman who patrolled every day and night on his bicycle, with support from lovely Mildred, who stood by him stoiocly until his death. Mildred once told me, “I love Tommy. He’s so good, not selfish, a giving person. I put up with the crab pots because I know he loves the water and the crab.” I say to Claire Thomas, those were some of my loveliest days – emptying the crab pots with Tommy Mayo on the Elizabeth River and shelling them at the kitchen table of Tommy and Mildred’s modest home in Norfolk. Tommy died before Blair left me. But Mildred stuck with me despite her grand-daughter’s dalliance. We were good friends until her end. I loved Mildred. She was stoic and old-school, but had a heart of gold. She was my daughters’ great-grandmother on their mother’s side. It’s a shame that almost half of American marriages end up in divorce. Mine did. But thankfully, my four daughters are okay, beautiful, and hope the emotional scars do not inhibit them. Certainly, first daughter Leslie is okay with a wonderful husband, Noah, and new daughter – my first grand-daughter with a pedigree going beyond George Blackwell, the greatest horse-trainer in England in the early nineteen-hundreds. My daughters’ great-grandfather rode for King George V of England and King Alfonso of Spain, their grandfather trained horses for Queen Elizabeth II of England and many top horse owners in Virginia, Kentucky, and Florida. My youngest daughter, Elizabeth, is the only horsey one, now at Hollins University near Roanoke, Virginia, and knocking their socks off as a star rider on the Hollins riding team. Makes it all worth while, going up the line to my great-grandfather George Blackwell, his horse Rock Sand who sired the mare of Man O’War, America’s greatest racehorse and sire of the greatest racing horses and their progeny ever since. It warms the cockles of a man’s heart to see a child carrying the torch. I have four lovely daughter, each going their own way. One is carrying the torch of generations of jockeys and thoroughbred horse trainers.  Lizza has a beautiful seat, good reins and confidence in the stirrups -- a true Archibald rider in the tradition of her grandmother Rusty, her grandfather and great-grandfathers, and loves the animals around her as did they. Thanks be to God. I’m so proud.