Promises are just words, and court orders mean zip

The Boston Herald

She called last week, upset, frustrated, furious. Her husband walked out on her 12 years ago leaving her with four children, 10, 9, 6 and 5. He still loved her, he told her then. He was just tired of being married.

"But don't worry," he said. "They're my children and I intend to provide for them. Don't you think for a minute that I'm deserting you."

Yet that's exactly what he did. He left the state and didn't see his children again for five years. He was busy, building a new life in California, making friends, getting remarried.

After he left, his wife went to court and paid money to get papers that said her husband owed her $50,000. But he was long gone, and within six months she lost the house they had built together, and within a year she was applying for welfare.

Eventually she left Massachusetts, because she couldn't make it here. Rent was too high. Heat. Food. Medical insurance. Her paycheck didn't stretch that far and she was afraid that if she didn't move away, she would be stuck in poverty forever.

So she settled out West, in Colorado, and made a life there and a living, too. She got a good job. Her children were happy at school. She was doing well. They were all doing well.

Five years later, her ex-husband called and said he'd like to make things up to her. He'd like to see his children.

"I was thrilled," she said. "He is their father and I wanted them to know him."

He and his new wife drove to Colorado and took the children on vacation for a week.

"They wined them and dined them and bought them new clothes and toys. `You should see all the credit cards Dad has,' the kids said when they came home. `Dad showed us a picture of his house. It's huge. Dad has a boat that sleeps six. Dad has everything."'

Dad promised to start sending checks and supporting his children, then.

"I give you my word," he told his ex-wife for the second time. "You don't have to worry anymore. I promise, you can depend on me."

But it's been seven years now and the man has not kept his promise. He hasn't been in touch with or seen his children, or his new grandchildren, since.

The woman eventually moved back to Massachusetts because her father was sick and needed her. But the move was a disaster. Financially, she was far worse off than before.

She got a job, but it didn't pay much so she was forced to move into a self-described dump. She enrolled her younger children in schools plagued by violence and drugs.

Emotionally her youngest daughter, who is now 18, never got over her father's second desertion. Back in Massachusetts, the girl dropped out of school. She now has two children.

She now is on welfare.

The youngest child, a 17-year-old boy, had problems, too. In the city, he was exposed to drugs and guns and he, too, quit school. But things have turned around for him. He's now living with his mother's sister and is attending a suburban high school.

"It's been the hardest on my youngest children," this woman said. "I wasn't around for them. I was working all the time. I had to work to keep the family together.

"When they were small, when I was married, we had a nice life. We had a beautiful house in a safe neighborhood. Now I work. I go to school. I do everything I can, but it's not enough. We have nothing. I don't care so much for me anymore.

"But I care for my children. They are their father's children, yet he deserted them, financially and emotionally.

"I don't understand how he could do this. I don't understand how he is allowed to do this."He is allowed because promises are just words, and court orders don't mean a thing.