MY EX-WIFE’S BOOSHA
Today, October 15, is my ex-wife’s boosha. I’m not sure of her age, but she is well over a 100 years old. She did not rob the cradle. I was not born yet when she married me.
Hermann Goering, the Nazi, died on October 15. I’m not sure whether this explains how my ex-wife related to me during the marriage. She loved giving orders.
I don’t want to imply that the marriage breakdown was her fault. I share 100 percent of the blame. Looking back I realize that I argued too much instead of letting things go. I thought I could win arguments with my wife. Wisdom has taught me how foolish I was thinking this. I wasted so much energy, and threw away peace and quiet trying to do so.
Shortly after we separated, my seven-year-old daughter asked, “Daddy, why can’t you and Mommy live together?”
“Mommy and I don’t get along. We argue too much because we disagree about how things should be done. I say one thing and Mommy says the opposite.”
After a pause, my daughter looked at me and said, “Daddy, wouldn’t it have been much simpler if you had just listened to Mommy?”
Out of the mouths of babes!
“Yup, you’re right. It would have been much simpler if I had just listened to Mommy.”
It was hard for me to listen to anyone because I had lived alone a long time before I got married. I was not used to anyone contributing to my decisions. Oh well, it’s all water under the spilt milk—or something like that.
So ex-wife, whose name escapes me, I wish you the very best Hasha Boosha. In case you haven’t figured it out, Hasha Boosha is English for Happy Birthday. Cheers!