Wednesday, January 25, 2012

A Voice in the Wilderness

I thought once that I had a viewpoint that mattered, that my opinions were worth expressing and SHOULD be heard... That I, Bill Nelson, was worth remembering, that someday fortune would smile on me.

But what is the reality? How does it all REALLY work out?

After a bitter divorce, in which my attorney stated that my former marriage mate had been "the worst" of ALL the men and ALL the women of EVERY divorce case that had ever gone through his office (3500), a divorce after which I had battled mightily to preserve and protect my relationship with my the end it all boiled down to money, cold hard cash - it didn't matter that I loved my children or respected the sanctity of marriage.

The state simply wanted to suck money out of me and didn't give a damn if I was around to be a father to my children or not. I was swept under the rug, not only by the legal system but also by many persons I had considered my "friends". I was cursed and hated by people I had thought I could trust, that would be loyal. People that I THOUGHT I knew actively participated in the legal murder of my family, doing so with gusto and relish. And all these 20 years since that devastating event, not one person has had the balls to come forward and apologize, even though my former spouse was publicly exposed as a liar and a fraud.

For 15 years I cried daily at some point for my children, children I was not allowed to see or talk to. Now, I have reestablished contact, but they are grown and have their own busy lives to occupy them. I spend a lot of hours staring into my coffee cup, staring out the window, depressed and unhappy.

There is no one to complain to. I am a matter from the forgotten past.

The other day I pulled out my drawing tablet thinking I'd encourage myself by creating some new image, only to discover that I had nothing to say. What's the point of going to the trouble of putting thoughts down on paper if they are never going to be published or if they will only be posted to my website, which hardly anyone ever looks at.

My first published drawings was in 1971, a surfing contest poster - now it's 41 years later and I never did have what you could call a career. Maybe  there are a few copies of my work saved here and there but I never had any influence that I know of, most of my stuff went for "fish wrappers".

Just a vain voice that cried out in the wilderness