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Fridays are divorce days in Bellingham, Washington. If you want to dissolve your marriage in Bellingham, you have to show up in court on a Friday, with all of the other couples who are divorcing that week. Recently one of those couples was commentator1 Ron Judd and his ex-wife Jackie.
In the Whatcom County Courthouse names are called, couples rise from a wood bench and stand before a Judge. Swearing to tell the whole truth, one partner reads from a script--it's a standard form with blanks filled in at home. That sheet of paper in my hand was all that was left of my marriage, the birth, life and death of a promise reduced to a single page double-spaced.
My name is Ronald Charles Judd. I am the husband of Jack2 Won. We were married on May 18th, 2002 in Bellingham, Washington. My wife is not pregnant. No children have been born to us. Our marriage is irretrievably broken. Irretrievably broken! My wife and I come to our hometown courtroom to untie3 the knot. Each of us has sworn before friends and family we'd stay bound forever. I have a dozen other people that shuffled4 up to the judge before us. Most of them walked away in tears. When our turn came, I tried not to look at Jackie, standing5 at my shoulder for the first time in a long time. I tried not to remember that spring day five years ago when I knew, instantly and without doubt that I loved her .We were in the Rocky Mountains. She'd touched the nose of a wild deer and burst straight into tears. Not all counties require divorcers to appear in this very public un-marriage ceremony. And not all the duel6, cruel or savvy7 enough to force you say the words out loud.
Irretrievably broken? When movie stars part, their publicists kiss it off with a kind of more forgiving “irreconcilable differences”. Differences are something you just discover, unpleasantries that just show up one day like unsightly nostril8 hair. Broken was something we did, to ourselves, our friends, our extended families, in even worse cases, that something people do to their own children. But our marriage was irretrievably broken and the tears welling in my eyes were not just over the cold finality of those words, but the knowledge that they were true.
I blinked in that bad fluorescent9 light and wondered: shouldn't every bright-eyed couple applying for a marriage license10 two floors below have to sit through an hour of dissolution court first? Just to appreciate the stakes before registering on wedding.com. I wonder how many people are ever truly prepared to bear the weight of their own vows11. Till death do us part? It's a catchy12 slogan, but really just a five-words-string everybody secretly knows can be snipped13 by legal scissors. The truth: marriage is only as forgiving as the frequency in depth through which you can swallow your own pride. It's only as lasting14 as your own ability to forgive. Only as permanent as the strength you bring to it every hour .A lot of people grasp this at some point. Sadly, for us, that point was the day we found ourselves here, in the courthouse, wincing15 with the realization--that the only thing permanent about our marriage, was the two-word phrase that took it apart-- irretrievably broken, that's forever.
Ron Judd is a columnist for "The Seattle Times" and author of the book-- "The Roof-Rack Chronicles"
In the Whatcom County Courthouse names are called, couples rise from a wood bench and stand before a Judge. Swearing to tell the whole truth, one partner reads from a script--it's a standard form with blanks filled in at home. That sheet of paper in my hand was all that was left of my marriage, the birth, life and death of a promise reduced to a single page double-spaced.
My name is Ronald Charles Judd. I am the husband of Jack2 Won. We were married on May 18th, 2002 in Bellingham, Washington. My wife is not pregnant. No children have been born to us. Our marriage is irretrievably broken. Irretrievably broken! My wife and I come to our hometown courtroom to untie3 the knot. Each of us has sworn before friends and family we'd stay bound forever. I have a dozen other people that shuffled4 up to the judge before us. Most of them walked away in tears. When our turn came, I tried not to look at Jackie, standing5 at my shoulder for the first time in a long time. I tried not to remember that spring day five years ago when I knew, instantly and without doubt that I loved her .We were in the Rocky Mountains. She'd touched the nose of a wild deer and burst straight into tears. Not all counties require divorcers to appear in this very public un-marriage ceremony. And not all the duel6, cruel or savvy7 enough to force you say the words out loud.
Irretrievably broken? When movie stars part, their publicists kiss it off with a kind of more forgiving “irreconcilable differences”. Differences are something you just discover, unpleasantries that just show up one day like unsightly nostril8 hair. Broken was something we did, to ourselves, our friends, our extended families, in even worse cases, that something people do to their own children. But our marriage was irretrievably broken and the tears welling in my eyes were not just over the cold finality of those words, but the knowledge that they were true.
I blinked in that bad fluorescent9 light and wondered: shouldn't every bright-eyed couple applying for a marriage license10 two floors below have to sit through an hour of dissolution court first? Just to appreciate the stakes before registering on wedding.com. I wonder how many people are ever truly prepared to bear the weight of their own vows11. Till death do us part? It's a catchy12 slogan, but really just a five-words-string everybody secretly knows can be snipped13 by legal scissors. The truth: marriage is only as forgiving as the frequency in depth through which you can swallow your own pride. It's only as lasting14 as your own ability to forgive. Only as permanent as the strength you bring to it every hour .A lot of people grasp this at some point. Sadly, for us, that point was the day we found ourselves here, in the courthouse, wincing15 with the realization--that the only thing permanent about our marriage, was the two-word phrase that took it apart-- irretrievably broken, that's forever.
Ron Judd is a columnist for "The Seattle Times" and author of the book-- "The Roof-Rack Chronicles"
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1 commentator | |
n.注释者,解说者;实况广播评论员 | |
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2 jack | |
n.插座,千斤顶,男人;v.抬起,提醒,扛举;n.(Jake)杰克 | |
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3 untie | |
vt.解开,松开;解放 | |
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4 shuffled | |
v.洗(纸牌)( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 );拖着脚步走;粗心地做;摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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5 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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6 duel | |
n./v.决斗;(双方的)斗争 | |
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7 savvy | |
v.知道,了解;n.理解能力,机智,悟性;adj.有见识的,懂实际知识的,通情达理的 | |
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8 nostril | |
n.鼻孔 | |
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9 fluorescent | |
adj.荧光的,发出荧光的 | |
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10 license | |
n.执照,许可证,特许;v.许可,特许 | |
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11 vows | |
誓言( vow的名词复数 ); 郑重宣布,许愿 | |
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12 catchy | |
adj.易记住的,诡诈的,易使人上当的 | |
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13 snipped | |
v.剪( snip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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14 lasting | |
adj.永久的,永恒的;vbl.持续,维持 | |
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15 wincing | |
赶紧避开,畏缩( wince的现在分词 ) | |
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