
One of the things I brought back from my trip out west was a copy of the divorce papers my dad had saved since 1976, when the divorce between my parents became final. The details of which I catalog below.
Mom was the petitioner and Dad was the respondent. My dad got the dining room table, chairs, buffet and the sailboat he had built. My mom got us kids.
Dad got the 1965 Chevy, Mom got the 1972 Toyota Corolla.
Our house in Mendota Heights was to be put up for immediate sale. For all my googling, I couldn’t find out how much they originally bought it for and when they finally sold it, and for what price. But I am curious and will pursue that further.
The decree goes on to say that neither were obligated to pay the mortgage after January 1, 1976, if the house was not sold before then. Mom was to make the last payment on it December 1, 1975. And Dad had the right to sell the washer, dryer, refrigerator and freezer from the house in order to make the payment.
The first things the sale was to pay off was the $3,000 loan from my mom’s parents with 8% interest, and then $1,200 to pay off my great grandma, also with 8% interest, and finally repay the $300 to Dad’s parents. After paying out those debts, in that order, they were to pay closing costs and realtor fees, the rest was to be split between them. And then Dad was to pay his other debts, one to the Jeweler, $60, and another for a $1000 “life loan.” He was also to go on and pay Mom $300 per month for child support, $150 per each of us, until my sister and I turned 18.
I find myself fascinated by this document, with its concrete financial details. The splitting of the assets. The contributions of their parents for down payment. The real complications of splitting their life down the middle. Having the numbers and items so firmly spelled out jerked traces of memory into solidity, like a forgotten ghosts springing to life. It is these ghosts that inspire the foray into this ancient history, stories from my lineage, but also the unwanted heritage of loss that permeates place and time.
Money was a loaded subject within my divorced and intermarried family. And one way I dealt with it was to not pay too much attention, so things remained faint. My intention here is to trace both generational wealth and poverty back — looking at what was passed down to my parents and me and thinking of it in a historical context. I can’t look at this writing right now without judging it, so I am passing it on in this jumbled form. Please forgive me (that is what we are doing here!)
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