Friday, June 5, 2015

All the Years I Skipped at Charm School

Not everything that counts can be counted. 
Not everything that can be counted counts. 
-Albert Einstein

A truly extraordinary woman - one who rather effortlessly gives lawyers and the practice of law a good name, which is NOT an easy thing to do - is celebrating a birthday today.  She prefers to fly 'neath the radar for such events.  As her friend, I shall honor that preference and simply wish her a "happy birthday".    Ah, discretion.   It is a fickle bastard.  

Occasionally in my practice I get involved in a case with an adversary who reveals himself (to my memory it has never happened with a female adversary) to have an approach to the practice that is hopelessly at odds with my own.  The type of lawyer who personalizes everything and who transforms a civil action - in which the goal at day's end is the recovery of money damages - into something wholly uncivil.  

As I have gotten older and have spent more time staring at the ever-growing amount of white whiskers in my beard and white hairs upon my head, and less time consuming alcohol, I have in fact become more temperate.  Once upon a lifetime ago, I would rise to take the bait far more often than I should have.  Now?  I remember Mom's lesson about counting backwards from ten - or if necessary - from one hundred or one thousand.  Explosions occur infrequently - if at all.

I am who I am.  It is for that reason there is a Post-it affixed to the computer monitor that sits atop my office desk that says simply, "Irish Alzheimer's Disease - You Forget Everything...Except the Grudges."   I neither forgive nor forget.  I simply internalize.   And then I go for a run to keep my internal steam at an allowable level.  

Yesterday I was lucky enough to get a phone call from an attorney with whom I have been friends since we were at law school together.  We spent about fifteen minutes chatting about various things, including a case we have together, a case I had referred to him, and some other stuff.  I spent most of the conversation laughing, which in the middle of what was a fairly dank morning in what had been a very dank week proved to be just what the doctor ordered.  

Proof of nothing else - perhaps - than that the great Samuel L. Jackson was indeed correct...


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