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Climbing the Ladder 51 “Frank, I haven’t had a child support check in over a year and don’t expect to see one again.” My children had to come before my dignity. I had set up the accounting books for Frank Lay’s company and had been his very first employee. I was a one-person office: answering the phones, calculating and typing all the bids, handling the mail, the filing, the payroll, the banking, and the quarterly tax reports. His union employees had money going into their union retirement accounts, someone negotiating for their wages and health care benefits. I had no one to speak for me. The difference was clear. I received a small raise that day but I also became a lifelong supporter of labor unions. I was facing some ongoing challenges with Mike and Mark at this time. For most of the past two years the boys had been in the same school building for the first time. Even though Mark was the younger brother, he was used to being protective of Mike. He felt he must be Mike’s defender against the tormentors that disabled children frequently encounter; a fight would ensue, and I would get a call from school. It was a little awkward for the school principal to call a school board member when her son was in trouble. One day yet another call came, but the tone of the principal was noticeably different. He said, “Barbara, Mark got into another fight today and got sent to my office. When I told Mark he could not fight his brother’s battles, he responded, ‘If I am not my brother’s keeper, who is?’” The principal took a deep breath and said, “Barbara, I didn’t have any answer to that question.” In spite of my pride in Mark’s willingness to defend his brother, I knew he was paying a huge price. My bright, capable son was doing less well academically and showing more signs of teenage rejection of authority. Mark was growing increasingly angry with his father, and I couldn’t seem to make him feel better. It broke my heart. I remembered the happy, quick, energetic boy he had once been. Sometimes we could talk and feel close. Other times Mark just seemed to slip away, leaving me without answers or a way to help him. I worried I was failing him. I finally accepted letting Mark grow his hair long. Alittle harmless rebellion, I reasoned. I just needed to try and be sure the rebellion stayed harmless. I had a sense it was going to get more difficult and much more challenging. 52 chapter eight Frank Roberts, a New Love Frank and I had become friends—mostly political friends, I guess. The tremendous help he had given to me as he mentored me through the successful legislative passage of Senate Bill 699 in 1971 had given us a bond of mutual accomplishment. We saw each other at Democratic Party events and lived in the same neighborhood. Our paths crossed frequently. I thought he was wonderful and very attractive. Yet after my painful divorce I did not feel motivated to start encouraging a dating relationship nor did I feel desirable enough to start dating a man as distinctive and successful as Frank Roberts. I had heavy responsibility in raising my two sons alone. Plus, I carried another private burden, the parting message Neal delivered to me as he exited our home and our marriage; “No man is ever going to want you. Get used to that.” I had been married since high school. Somehow I simply accepted his words and assumed that my shortcomings as a wife and woman had been the reasons our marriage had ended. At this point I had totally lost my self-confidence in that department and wasn’t willing to risk being rejected again. A year after the 1971 separation that led to the divorce, my son Mark, then fourteen, asked me bluntly why I had not started dating. I gave him some rather feeble excuse, not being able to tell my teenage son the more painful personal reason. Mark looked at me and responded, “Mom, you’re a good-looking, smart woman. It’s time you started dating again. You need some fun in your life.” Mark was right but knowing it and doing something about it were two very different things. A few months after that conversation with Mark, I rode with friends...

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