Microfiction Monday

Took a break, but now I'm back.  140 characters, everything counts, i.e., punctuation and spaces. Look at Susan's illustration and be creative!  Link up with her, then visit others...Thank you Susan for posting this each week. We know you've got your hands and arms and life full, so we appreciate you doing this.

I didn’t know how to dress up for Halloween. Claude Daigle’s ghost told me this costume would get everyone's attention!

Happy Halloween!

Perfect Sunset

Yesterday evening was the last regular season football game for my son.  It was a great game, under the lights at the High School stadium, hard-fought. Our team ultimately prevailed but they had to work to get there, which is good as it prepares them for the play-offs they'll be going to later this week.  The real treat though, was because we were up high on the stadium bleachers, I got the most amazing sunset photos.

THIS GAVE WAY TO

THIS

Spirit of Music

This morning I was at the sink rinsing dishes.  My husband was standing next to me fiddling with the coffee maker.  Our son was practicing trumpet downstairs. (NOTE: he was playing well.  It was the music in the air that prompted my question) I asked my husband, "what do you think the great composers like Mozart and Beethoven would have said about how beginning musicians these days sound playing their great pieces? You know, those painful first recitals?"

All of a sudden the plastic cover on the light over the sink fell off into the sink.

Husband said, "I guess there's your answer."

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

For those of you who are new to the story, this is one I've written for our Friends of the Library blog. It is almost weekly, depending on what is going on in my life.

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

A Friends of the Library Mystery

prior installment

When she got outside it was dark. Celia leaned against the wall of the barn and gazed up at the clearest stars she had ever seen. The night was cool, but the warmth of the sun lingering on the barn felt good. She just rested there for a while, enjoying the view. Even with the light spilling from the barn, it seemed that the heavens were illuminated more brilliantly than she’d ever seen before. As she stood there she saw a falling star trace its way across the sky.

Star light, star bright, first falling star I see tonight. Wish I may, wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight. Please, I want to go home.

Celia heard a voice in the darkness.  “No!” a girl’s voice was saying. “I’m not going back to Lincoln!”

Celia realized it was Emajean’s voice. She held still, hoping she wouldn’t be noticed. Maybe this way she’d get some answers to this mystery.

“But I won’t be here, and your family needs you. Your father is not well and I need to go to Hungary to bring my mother here to Chicago. When I return I’ll come to Lincoln to get you.” The voice was clearly Lazlo’s.

“I’m afraid you’ll never come back from Hungary,” Celia heard Emajean say quietly.

“I promise, I will,” came the soft reply. Next Celia heard a rustling noise and László continued, “this is my only possession of any value. I’ve put it on a chain for you so you can wear it under your uniform each day, near your heart. So a part of me will be near your beating heart. I like that thought,” his voice rumbled.

Celia could hear the couple kiss and tried to ease away, but to her horror, she heard an awful ripping noise and felt a sudden draft. Lazlo and Emajean stepped into the light spilling through the doorway. Celia tried not to look like an eavesdropper.

“Will you please keep my secret?” Emajean asked. “You know I would be asked to leave school if the nuns find out I’m seeing someone, even one of their own doctors!” Celia started to argue that no school would throw out a good student in her last year, but once again, remembered these times were not her times.


"I won't say anything Emajean," she heard herself promising.

“There, you’ve said it again,” said Emajean. “Rosa said you were strange tonight, and I think I agree with her. But I do know you’ve always been a good friend, so I’ll trust you to not say anything to anyone. Thank you, Celia,” Emajean finished speaking and pressed her hand on Celia’s arm as she leaned close to her. A faint scent of floral perfume wafted up to her nose.

Celia suddenly felt woozy and began to sway. She heard Emajean’s voice as from far, far away, calling her name. Celia wanted to answer but couldn’t get the words out. The edges of her vision were growing gray and she slipped into a faint.

Bumper Sticker

I saw one this morning that I've been mulling over all day.  What would YOU say to the person who had this on their car (given that you could talk to them without them realizing you followed them to their destination so they wouldn't think you're a stalker!)...

BORN RIGHT

THE FIRST TIME

MUFFED TARGET

Our erstwhile host, Thom "Bite Me" Robinson (I liked that so much I had to borrow it from Quilly!), has once again challenged us to post one of our photos that didn't quite make the cut. He describes it thus:

Each Tuesday post a picture which is completely crazy, messed up, with nothing on etc, which normally you would immediately delete. It can be everything, like only shoes instead of the whole person, a blurred building or whatever you want. Then tell us the little story how it happened and what it should have been. 

 In the midst of this . . . 

 and this . . . (mine is 65)

I also got this...

but it was a beautiful day,

and they won again.

To the playoffs!

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

A Friends of the Library Mystery

prior installment

Celia must have looked horrified because the other woman broke out in peals of laughter. “It’s fake, Celia!  Look at my costume!” she cried. Celia looked and realized that the other woman was dressed like a hobo. She had a tattered jacket over a threadbare vest, and under the vest a tunic of some kind. It might have been light blue at some point but it was covered with grayish stains wherever it showed through the vest. The pants were held up with twine around the waist and the girl had mis-matched, striped socks on. Most of her hair was pulled back into a red bandana, but some wild curls escaped around the edges. The only part of the costume that wasn’t authentic was her shoes. They were the same kind of sturdy white nursing shoes that Celia now had on her feet.

“Come on, Celia, I want you to meet our Hungarian. He’s here to give us real authenticity to the party!” The girl dragged Celia over to a table where a bowl with pink punch sat, poured her a cup, and then dragged her over to where a handsome, dark man was talking to several people.

“Hey everyone, Celia’s here now!” she exclaimed happily. “László ,” the girl said, “I’d like you to meet Celia.”

“Another nurse?” The man took Celia’s hand in his, kissed it, and said, “it is my pleasure to be surrounded by so many beautiful women.” Celia blushed and took her hand away. He was tall and thin, with jet black hair combed back from a widow’s peak on his forehead. His eyes were dark and hooded, and his skin was a beautiful olive complexion. He had a generous mouth and even white teeth. His personal magnetism obviously had a pull on every girl around him.  As Celia tried to think of something clever to say that would not reveal how out of place she was, another girl came over dressed in nursing whites.

Celia turned to look at the newcomer and was shocked to see the face of the young girl from the 1933 Loyolan! “Why,” she began, “you’re Emajean!”

The girl laughed at her. “Celia, no one around here calls me that and you know it! Ever since I left Lincoln, Michigan I’ve been just Jean! Although some here might refer to me as ‘Maw’.” The other girls all laughed at that. She greeted everyone in the circle and leaned in to give Lazlo a kiss on his cheek. Celia tried to remember the names – especially the name of the first girl she’d encountered. Rosa. Okay, I just have to remember Rosa.

A commotion at the front of the barn revealed that several young men had arrived. A couple of them had more musical instruments. They threw together a few hay bales and began tuning up. Temporarily forgotten by László and the other girls, Celia walked over to the musicians. A drummer started laying down a beat, starting a fast rhythm that the others began to follow. Pretty soon a real tune was getting going with brass and even a clarinet, and couples were starting to dance. Celia looked over to where she had left the others and saw László and Emajean beginning a complicated dance together.

I’ve seen this on an old movie. I think it’s called the Lindy Hop! Celia’s foot began tapping to the rhythm. She thought the poetry of the couple moving together was exciting and energizing! A part of her longed to go out on the dance floor but she resisted.

“They’re really good,” commented a young man at her elbow. Celia opened her mouth to agree enthusiastically but was cut off by a second young man. 

“That dance is obscene. White girls should not be doing a dance like that with old Hungarian men,” he snarled. Celia was surprised by the venom in his voice. She couldn’t help herself. She turned to him and asked, “are you upset because the dance is energetic, the girl is white, or because she’s not dancing with you?”

 The young man turned to her in fury. “White girls should not dance with foreigners, especially gypsies!” he spat.

Celia was shocked and her mouth fell open. “What is wrong with you?” she cried. And then she suddenly remembered that if this was 1933, the issue of who white girls should dance with was still very much strictly controlled by societal mores. Being Celia, she plunged ahead anyway, “any girl should be free to dance with or date or even marry whoever she falls in love with!” she exclaimed. 

The tall blonde athletic looking young man sneered, “if you really believe that, try selling your daddy on a Gypsy son-in-law.” He spun on his heel and marched out the barn door.

“Just ignore him,” said the remaining man, “and enjoy the show.” They both turned back to watch László and Emajean execute a series of swirls and dips that left both of them laughing and breathless and the surrounding watchers clapping and cheering.

Rosa reappeared and asked Celia if she was having fun. “Oh yes!” she answered. “Well, except for that one insufferable man. What a racist!” she said bitterly. 

Rosa looked at her askance. “Racist? What does that mean?” she asked. “Oh you know, someone who dislikes other people because of their race and wants to keep the races separate,” Celia answered. 

Rosa responded, “I've never heard that word used for people like him." She sighed and added,"it's too bad he's so unpleasant. He’s a brilliant doctor.”
Celia said, "brilliance is more than just brains. What's his name, anyway?"
Rosa stared at her, "Celia, you know that he is Anthony Harper! You have been doing rotations with him these last couple of weeks!"
Celia tried to think of a quick recovery, "oh my, I must be losing my mind. I need to get some air." She turned and went outside, leaving Rosa's puzzled expression behind her.

Seen On the Way Home

As I drove home today I traveled on a local parkway that has a wide median. Part of our "county beautification" project is that the parkway median is seeded with wildflowers periodically. Right now, they have BURST into blooms of pinks, purples and whites. Framed by the trees on either side of the parkway which are now changing into their fall wardrobe, the combination is a beautiful one, except that stuck in the ground about every 10 feet is a bright red political sign advocating a particular candidate. There are blue signs for a different candidate, and they are about one every 50 feet.

Wouldn't it be nice if the clutter of elections was confined to someplace where the wildflower plantings aren't done?

While I was on the parkway, I was behind a woman in a subaru outback. She had an intriguing magnet on the back of her car that was about 6" x 4".  When we approached the red light, I pulled a little bit closer than I usually do so I could read it because it was really small.

Here's what it looked like:

Muffed Target

Our erstwhile host, Thom "Bite Me" Robinson (I liked that so much I had to borrow it from Quilly!), has once again challenged us to post one of our photos that didn't quite make the cut. He describes it thus:

Each Tuesday post a picture which is completely crazy, messed up, with nothing on etc, which normally you would immediately delete. It can be everything, like only shoes instead of the whole person, a blurred building or whatever you want. Then tell us the little story how it happened and what it should have been. 


So here's my "Muffed Target" for the week.

This is fall leaves a year ago.  What's worse, I have more that look like this.  I wish I could remember a) what happened and b) why on earth I didn't delete it right away!

Flash 55 for Friday

I don't want to say blog-hanging out with Thom is influencing me, but . . . the story fit perfectly.  So here goes:

“We only have pink casts today,” the football player sized med tech 
teased the young injured skate boarder.

“Why does he get black?” the kid asked, gesturing to an older teen being wrapped with a cast.

Not missing a beat, the tech answered, “FOOTBALL injury.”

The skate boarder walked out wearing a bright pink cast.

Best Laid Plans

I was going to bike to the library today, turn in books, get new ones, and bike home.  Round trip about 8 miles. About the time the last kid left for the bus stop, the rain began. Seeing as the library frowns upon their books being drenched, I'll have to implement Plan B.

Plan B -- Stay home with the books I already have, curled up, enjoying a cup of coffee. Spend time in prayer. Ignore laundry and any other house-ordering tasks.

Around 10 begin my phone calls for Community Bible Study.

Life is sweet!

Branch Wars

I'm so glad the Administration is appealing the decision by the California Court that has has enjoined the government from proceeding with the discharge of homosexuals from the military.

Before everyone jumps on me about the implications of that, read further.

Judges are supposed to INTERPRET the law, and this judge believes the law is unconstitutional. If this judge believes that, she must rule against its enforcement.

The Executive branch's responsibility is to ENFORCE the law, whether the Administration agrees with it or not. And enforcing the law means appealing when a lower court says it is unconstitutional. Until the Supreme Court makes a finding of constitutionality, the assumption is that the law is VALID, it stands and must be enforced.

The other alternative is that the Congress can CHANGE the law by ENACTING new law (or not) before the Supreme Court rules.

This forces the Congress to take responsibility for their actions. Each individual law maker must stand up and say YES or NO in PUBLIC.

Even my 8th grader understands checks and balances and division of power in our system. Sheesh.

MUFFED TARGET

This meme is so easy.  Thanks, Thom!

I think someone didn't realize the camera was ready to go and accidentally hit the button.

What do YOU think?

It MIGHT be True

SO much stuff goes around the internet. Most of it I ignore.  This story may or may not be true. But even if it's not, it gives one pause.

If we all grasped these "wake up" moments from God and really implemented what He was calling us to, the landscape would look VERY different.  So here's the story -- my mom sent it to me in an e-mail.

ONE OF THE BEST STORIES I'VE EVER HEARD!  


As she stood in front of her 5th grade class on the very first day of school, she told the children an untruth. Like most teachers, she looked at her students and said that she loved them all the same. However, that was impossible, because there in the front row, slumped in his seat, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.

Mrs. Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed that he did not play well with the other children, that his clothes were messy and that he constantly needed a bath. In addition, Teddy could be unpleasant. It got to the point where Mrs. Thompson would actually take delight in marking his papers with a broad red pen, making bold X's and then putting a big 'F' at the top of his papers.

At the school where Mrs. Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's past records and she put Teddy's off until last. However, when she reviewed his file, she was in for a surprise.

Teddy's first grade teacher wrote, 'Teddy is a bright child with a ready laugh. He does his work neatly and has good manners... he is a joy to be around..'

His second grade teacher wrote, 'Teddy is an excellent student, well liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle.'

His third grade teacher wrote, 'His mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best, but his father doesn't show much interest, and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken.'

Teddy's fourth grade teacher wrote, 'Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and he sometimes sleeps in class.'

By now, Mrs. Thompson realized the problem and she was ashamed of herself. She felt even worse when her students brought her Christmas presents, wrapped in beautiful ribbons and bright paper, except for Teddy's. His present was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper that he got from a grocery bag. Mrs... Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of perfume.. But she stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume on her wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed after school that day just long enough to say, 'Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my Mom used to.'

After the children left, she cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing and arithmetic. Instead, she began to teach children. Mrs. Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. By the end of the year, Teddy had become one of the smartest children in the class and, despite her lie that she would love all the children the same, Teddy became one of her 'teacher's pets..'

A year later, she found a note under her door, from Teddy, telling her that she was the best teacher he ever had in his whole life.

Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still the best teacher he ever had in life.

Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would soon graduate from college with the highest of honors. He assured Mrs. Thompson that she was still the best and favorite teacher he had ever had in his whole life.

Then four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still the best and favorite teacher he ever had. But now his name was a little longer.... The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, MD.

The story does not end there. You see, there was yet another letter that spring. Teddy said he had met this girl and was going to be married. He explained that his father had died a couple of years ago and he was wondering if Mrs. Thompson might agree to sit at the wedding in the place that was usually reserved for the mother of the groom. Of course, Mrs. Thompson did. And guess what? She wore that bracelet, the one with several rhinestones missing. Moreover, she made sure she was wearing the perfume that Teddy remembered his mother wearing on their last Christmas together.

They hugged each other, and Dr. Stoddard whispered in Mrs. Thompson's ear, 'Thank you Mrs. Thompson for believing in me. Thank you so much for making me feel important and showing me that I could make a difference.'

Mrs. Thompson, with tears in her eyes, whispered back.. She said, 'Teddy, you have it all wrong. You were the one who taught me that I could make a difference. I didn't know how to teach until I met you.'

(For you that don't know, Teddy Stoddard is the Dr at Iowa Methodist in Des Moines that has the Stoddard Cancer Wing.)

A Day Off

I'm skipping all my usual memes and other on-line stuff today. The kids are home, the hubs is home, and it's going to be a beautiful fall day.  So . . . see you all next week!

Need Genealogy Help?

Through my genealogy research I've gained a new friend who is a distant relation as well. My Cousin Louise and I share my maternal grandfather's great grandmother.  I've written about this ancestor before. Her name was Elizabeth Jane Petty and she lived in Memphis during the Civil War and following. She died in 1867 in a cholera or typhoid epidemic, as did two of her young daughters. However, two other daughters and one son survived her.  Elizabeth's oldest daughter, Lucy Roxana (Roxie), was my Grandfather Harrison's grandmother. Her youngest daughter, Samuella (Sammie) is my distant cousin Louise's ancestor. Late edit: Ancestry now has a button that you press that tells you the relationship of that person to you. It turns out Elizabeth Jane Petty is my 3rd great grandmother.  Who knew?

Today my cousin Louise and I traveled to Essex County, Virginia to try to find some records for ancestors from the late 1600's.  It is amazing to think that in 1620, the Pilgrims barely carved out an existence in Plymouth Colony, but by 1660 an English settlement was thriving on the Rappahannock River in Virginia.

The area was immediately dedicated to tobacco, but by 1750, the land was exhausted from it. So the relatives we were looking for lived there between 1660 and 1750, when the first great migration out of that area occurred. It is also amazing to contemplate that immediately after arriving in this new land, the English institituted laws that protected land ownership. People recorded deeds to land, settled disputes over boundaries, built churches, and passed land on to their children through wills. It was so cool to walk on land in the little town of Tappahannock and realize that our ancestors from over 300 years ago walked these same paths. We strolled down to the river and saw some men fishing. It was a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky.

We met very nice people at the courthouse -- researchers and clerks, and had a lovely time. The bonus was that we had expert help from a most unexpected source!

Otis, the Courthouse Cat --
he'll help you find the right page, but it's up to you to read around him!

Here Otis inspects Louise's bag to make sure she isn't trying to take any of those big books out of the courthouse!
Well . . .perhaps he was just looking for treats.

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

A Friends of the Library Mystery

prior week 

The researcher looked around, hoping to see any kind of structure that would be evidence of people. In the far distance she saw a rectangular shape that might be a shed or even a barn. Squaring her shoulders she began trudging towards it.

The sun overhead was hot and she was grateful for the unfamiliar bonnet. It seemed to her that she had been crossing the fields for a very long time, but she had no time reference without her watch or computer. The tickle in her throat was becoming a roaring thirst, but every time she looked up to see how much farther, it seemed as if the structure was the same size in the distance.

She sank down in the field to rest for a minute. This is not fun anymore. I can’t figure out what has happened. Maybe I’ve gone crazy. Maybe this is a dream. She tried pinching her arm to wake up, but accomplished nothing. She closed her eyes and curled herself into a little ball, with her head down, and arms around her knees. She wasn’t sure how long she had sat there when she began hearing faint music.

The researcher jerked her head up and looked towards the structure. Now it was only about 100 meters away and she could see that it was, indeed a barn, and could hear music emanating from the half-open door. She stood up and began walking resolutely towards the barn. To her relief, she could actually approach it this time.

“Oh, that’s too bad, you’ve torn your stockings!” she heard a woman say. The researcher looked down at her legs and to her surprise, she was wearing a white nursing uniform. Indeed, the stocking on her left leg was torn. She looked up at the person who had commented, and asked, “where are we?” The short, dark-haired beauty laughed and said, “oh come on, Celia, we’re at Garm’s barn! You’ve been here lots of times!”

The researcher (whose name actually was Celia) figured she’d better play along. “Oh, yes . . . I’m just really hot and thirsty,” she offered as an excuse. “Well come on in to the Hard Times party!” the girl responded. “I have to say, though, you didn’t put on much of a costume!” Celia couldn’t help but giggle inside. In my real life this would be quite a costume! I hate the sight of blood! The giggle must have made her face relax into a smile because the other woman smiled at her. When she did her lips parted to reveal a blackened tooth.

MUFFED TARGET

Thanks to Thom who took over from Gattina, we can parade our ineptitude and stroke our humility!  Here's this week's Muffed Target!

I know this was in Halifax at the museum with an aquarium, but what else it was, I can't tell. I'm not even sure I was taking the photo at this point, but it's in my files, so it counts for my Muffed Target!

Supremely Stupid

I don't like the word stupid except when it is used in its literal sense.  For example, when author Laura Ingalls Wilder used it in The Long Winter, she was referring to the mental state her family was in when they were freezing, starving, and probably suffering from low degree carbon monoxide poisoning. They were slow of speech, slow of wit and slow of movement. So there, it fit.

But today I found myself yelling at the radio, "No! No! No! That is SO stupid!"

(I don't like yelling at the radio either because it never seems to change the people's minds on there!)

It was a local show that is nationally syndicated. I normally don't listen to it because it raises my blood pressure too much.  But, because today is the first Monday in October they were talking about the Supreme Court and as a lawyer, I am fascinated by the dignity of the Supreme Court and the way it has to maintain the delicate balance between the branches.  They were talking about what future Supreme Courts might look like. In this, they were debating the merits of having the Supreme Court lawyers come largely from the Ivy League, with many of them never having spent any real time in the trenches practicing law, but instead most coming from political or academic positions.

And then one person said, and another agreed, "I'd like to see a non-lawyer on the Supreme Court."

AAAAAAUUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHH!

Any lawyer who has taken Constitutional Law (and I believe it is required in all law schools -- it certainly was in mine) understands that the ONLY reason the Supreme Court works at all is because the people confer upon it a respect for its decisions. The Court has NO power to make or execute the law (spare me the judicial activism arguments for the moment). Its job is to INTERPRET the law.

One cannot interpret the law without a deep understanding of the law. Not a "made-for-tv-talking heads-I know-more-than-you" understanding, but a real depth that one only gets through being trained in the law itself.

I think I know where their STUPID suggestion originates.  It goes back to lawyer advertising.  Prior to the 1980's, most State Bar Associations prohibited their members from advertising on radio or tv. One could put a discrete ad in a newspaper, or hang a shingle out in front of their office, but that was it. Part of the reasoning was that lawyers needed to maintain decorum and dignity in order for the general public to respect and uphold the law.

But once those advertising floodgates opened, lawyers did such embarrassing things to attract business that the entire profession became a laughing stock. How could anyone respect the law when the lawyers were trying to sell their images rather than their substance? Sure, for all the con-men ads there were dozens of lawyers who didn't advertise and who maintained the dignity of the profession. But who did the American public see?  People like the lawyers who flocked to Bhopal, India in the wake of that disaster. Or the circus that masqueraded as a trial of O.J. Simpson.

Long ago, when I clerked for Judge George M. Honts, III (the closest man to Atticus Finch I've ever met), he taught me that the reason the bench is raised in the courtroom is not because the JUDGE is more important, but because the JUDGE is the embodiment of the authority of the law in that setting and the LAW is what is being raised up. He redesigned his courtroom so that the jurors sat in front of him facing away from him. They had a clear view of the witnesses and the defendant. He told me he wasn't convinced that he could keep his facial expressions from giving away what he was thinking about the case, and he wanted an impartial jury to be just that.

He also told me that when he ascended to the bench, he had to stop being an usher in church. No one told him he had to stop, but as an usher, he had to pass the collection plates and he didn't want anyone ever thinking that they should put more money in the plate to impress the judge. He took his calling very seriously and he was the one who taught me the "appearance of impropriety is enough for the lawyer to bypass a case that otherwise looks like a good one to take." He was very big on "can you look at yourself in the mirror and say I did the right thing."

These people on the radio suggested someone like the hostess of the show or Sen Al Franken. Oh puh-leez. One of the deep regrets of my life is that I didn't get down to Lexington to see Judge Honts before he passed away, but I sure am glad he didn't live to hear THAT comment!

I think I'm going to go hide my head in shame now. My profession has sunk so low that former comedians turned senator (not much of a job change there) are seen as "scholars of the law" enough that they could ascend to the highest court in the land.

We've done this to ourselves.

Supremely Stupid

I don't like the word stupid except when it is used in its literal sense.  For example, when author Laura Ingalls Wilder used it in The Long Winter, she was referring to the mental state her family was in when they were freezing, starving, and probably suffering from low degree carbon monoxide poisoning. They were slow of speech, slow of wit and slow of movement. So it fits.

But today I found myself yelling at the radio, "No! No! No! That is SO stupid!"

(I don't like yelling at the radio either because it never seems to change the people's minds on there!)

It was a local show that is nationally syndicated. I normally don't listen to it because it raises my blood pressure too much.  But, because today is the first Monday in October they were talking about the Supreme Court and as a lawyer, I am fascinated by the dignity of the Supreme Court and the way it has to maintain the delicate balance between the branches.  They were talking about what future Supreme Courts might look like. In this, they were debating the merits of having the Supreme Court lawyers come largely from the Ivy League, with many of them never having spent any real time in the trenches practicing law, but instead most coming from political or academic positions.

And then one person said, and another agreed, "I'd like to see a non-lawyer on the Supreme Court."

AAAAAAUUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHH!

Any lawyer who has taken Constitutional Law (and I believe it is required in all law schools -- it certainly was in mine) understands that the ONLY reason the Supreme Court works at all is because the people confer upon it a respect for its decisions. The Court has NO power to make or execute the law (spare me the judicial activism arguments for the moment). Its job is to INTERPRET the law.

One cannot interpret the law without a deep understanding of the law. Not a "made-for-tv-talking heads-I know-more-than-you" understanding, but a real depth that one only gets through being trained in the law itself.

I think I know where their STUPID suggestion originates.  It goes back to lawyer advertising.  Prior to the 1980's, most State Bar Associations prohibited their members from advertising on radio or tv. One could put a discrete ad in a newspaper, or hang a shingle out in front of their office, but that was it. Part of the reasoning was that lawyers needed to maintain decorum and dignity in order for the general public to respect and uphold the law.

But once those advertising floodgates opened, lawyers did such embarrassing things to attract business that the entire profession became a laughing stock. How could anyone respect the law when the lawyers were trying to sell their images rather than their substance? Sure, for all the con-men ads there were dozens of lawyers who didn't advertise and who maintained the dignity of the profession. But who did the American public see?  People like the lawyers who flocked to Bhopal, India in the wake of that disaster. Or the circus that masqueraded as a trial of O.J. Simpson.

Long ago, when I clerked for Judge George M. Honts, III (the closest man to Atticus Finch I've ever met), he taught me that the reason the bench is raised in the courtroom is not because the JUDGE is more important, but because the JUDGE is the embodiment of the authority of the law in that setting and the LAW is what is being raised up. He redesigned his courtroom so that the jurors sat in front of him facing away from him. They had a clear view of the witnesses and the defendant. He told me he wasn't convinced that he could keep his facial expressions from giving away what he was thinking about the case, and he wanted an impartial jury to be just that.

He also told me that when he ascended to the bench, he had to stop being an usher in church. No one told him he had to stop, but as an usher, he had to pass the collection plates and he didn't want anyone ever thinking that they should put more money in the plate to impress the judge. He took his calling very seriously and he was the one who taught me the "appearance of impropriety is enough for the lawyer to bypass a case that otherwise looks like a good one to take." He was very big on "can you look at yourself in the mirror and say I did the right thing."

These people on the radio suggested someone like the hostess of the show or Sen Al Franken. Oh puh-leez. One of the deep regrets of my life is that I didn't get down to Lexington to see Judge Honts before he passed away, but I sure am glad he didn't live to hear THAT comment!

I think I'm going to go hide my head in shame now. My profession has sunk so low that former comedians turned senator (not much of a job change there) are seen as "scholars of the law" enough that they could ascend to the highest court in the land.

We've done this to ourselves.

Supremely Stupid

I don't like the word stupid except when it is used in it's literal sense.  For example, when author Laura Ingalls Wilder used it in The Long Winter, she was referring to the mental state her family was in when they were freezing, starving, and probably suffering from low degree carbon monoxide poisoning. They were slow of speech, slow of wit and slow of movement. So it fits.

But today I found myself yelling at the radio, "No! No! No! That is SO stupid!"

(I don't like yelling at the radio either because it never seems to change the people's minds on there!)

It was a local show that is nationally syndicated. I normally don't listen to it because it raises my blood pressure too much.  But, because today is the first Monday in October they were talking about the Supreme Court and as a lawyer, I am fascinated by the dignity of the Supreme Court and the way it has to maintain the delicate balance between the branches.  They were talking about what future Supreme Courts might look like. In this, they were debating the merits of having the Supreme Court lawyers come largely from the Ivy League, with many of them never having spent any real time in the trenches practicing law, but instead most coming from political or academic positions.

And then one person said, and another agreed, "I'd like to see a non-lawyer on the Supreme Court."

AAAAAAUUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHH!

Any lawyer who has taken Constitutional Law (and I believe it is required in all law schools -- it certainly was in mine) understands that the ONLY reason the Supreme Court works at all is because the people confer upon it a respect for its decisions. The Court has NO power to make or execute the law (spare me the judicial activism arguments for the moment). Its job is to INTERPRET the law.

One cannot interpret the law without a deep understanding of the law. Not a "made-for-tv-talking heads-I know-more-than-you" understanding, but a real depth that one only gets through being trained in the law itself.

I think I know where their STUPID suggestion originates.  It goes back to lawyer advertising.  Prior to the 1980's, most State Bar Associations prohibited their members from advertising on radio or tv. One could put a discrete ad in a newspaper, or hang a shingle out in front of their office, but that was it. Part of the reasoning was that lawyers needed to maintain decorum and dignity in order for the general public to respect and uphold the law.

But once those advertising floodgates opened, lawyers did such embarrassing things to attract business that the entire profession became a laughing stock. How could anyone respect the law when the lawyers were trying to sell their images rather than their substance? Sure, for all the con-men ads there were dozens of lawyers who didn't advertise and who maintained the dignity of the profession. But who did the American public see?  People like the lawyers who flocked to Bhopal, India in the wake of that disaster. Or the circus that masqueraded as a trial of O.J. Simpson.

Long ago, when I clerked for Judge George M. Honts, III (the closest man to Atticus Finch I've ever met), he taught me that the reason the bench is raised in the courtroom is not because the JUDGE is more important, but because the JUDGE is the embodiment of the authority of the law in that setting and the LAW is what is being raised up. He redesigned his courtroom so that the jurors sat in front of him facing away from him. They had a clear view of the witnesses and the defendant. He told me he wasn't convinced that he could keep his facial expressions from giving away what he was thinking about the case, and he wanted an impartial jury to be just that.

He also told me that when he ascended to the bench, he had to stop being an usher in church. No one told him he had to stop, but as an usher, he had to pass the collection plates and he didn't want anyone ever thinking that they should put more money in the plate to impress the judge. He took his calling very seriously and he was the one who taught me the "appearance of impropriety is enough for the lawyer to bypass a case that otherwise looks like a good one to take." He was very big on "can you look at yourself in the mirror and say I did the right thing."

These people on the radio suggested someone like the hostess of the show or Sen Al Franken. Oh puh-leez. One of the deep regrets of my life is that I didn't get down to Lexington to see Judge Honts before he passed away, but I sure am glad he didn't live to hear THAT comment!

I think I'm going to go hide my head in shame now. My profession has sunk so low that former comedians turned senator (not much of a job change there) are seen as "scholars of the law" enough that they could ascend to the highest court in the land.

We've done this to ourselves.

Microfiction Monday

Wow!  Susan at Stony River, author of this meme, says this is #51 -- which means nearly a year of microfiction!  Thank you Susan for hosting even when you feel like throwing in the towel in other parts of your life! You motivate and inspire us...

And my story:

Fly me away, she sighed.

No, not away, he replied.

I’ll take you to mum, he exclaimed!

Stop this pony ride RIGHT NOW, she flamed!