you're right, dawn

i feel remarkably sprightly this morning for the amount of wild turkey i drank last night (and all i put in it was ice, professor). the memorial service was lovely, complete with bluegrass music and rollicking stories. it was tough at times yesterday, and i have to admit that it did occur to me that a chapel full of lawyers was likely ripe for the smiting. like i told someone yesterday, i grew up irish catholic and i've been drinking whisky after funerals for nigh on as long as i can remember. i am a professional, kids. don't try this at home. (but if you must, make sure you have a w in your life--when he heard me groaning earlier, he brought me a tall water, two excedrin, and vitamin c in bed. then he made me breakfast).

i got the opportunity to hang out with a lot of people last night that i haven't spent a lot of time with outside of school before. it was a pleasure. i mentioned (and was seconded by several others) that i faced a considerable slump at the beginning of the semester and that it's only gotten worse as i faced the rejection show that is the job search. i confessed that i have let this slump affect my schoolwork, and that i was afraid that at this point it was all fucked. my friend dawn said "no, if you're only starting to get serious after thanksgiving break it's all fucked. you have ten days, get your ass in gear!"

requiem

I had the good fortune to have a certain professor for Criminal Law my first semester of law school. He told us to memorize the common law elements of the crimes, but showed us that black letter law is only the beginning. "When you lose, it's a technicality," he said with a wry smile, "But when you win it's a triumph of the American justice system!" He showed us how language that seemed so clear on the page had to be carefully parsed to discern the true meaning. Where did the comma splice fall? Did it change the meaning of the statute? During the course of both class and the research I did under him, my professor pushed me toward greater precision and clarity of thought and language.

Not long ago, I asked him how it felt to "win" a life sentence in his recent capital case. He was, of course, pleased to avoid the death sentence, but told me that it would be hard to stand beside his client as he was sentenced to life without parole, that it was still a difficult sentence. This is the compassionate man that I will remember.

We read a case called People v. Burroughs, in which a quack doctor practiced medicine without a licence and his patient died. He asked Mike if practicing medicine without a license was inherently dangerous. "I had in mind someone like your mom. When you were sick as a child, didn't she take care of you? Give you medicine? Wasn't she practicing medicine without a license?" "Actually," Mike replied, "My mom is a doctor." The class erupted with laughter, as did my professor. "I've been asking that question for years and that's never happened," he quipped.

I was told (like most of the 1L's who had him, I'm sure) that you should call this professor "sir" if you were called on in class. And put your computer screen down. And whatever you do don't write or type while he's talking to you--he would regularly admonish people to "Put that pen down!" Above all, don't be conclusory. Many students who thought they had answered the question were met with "Yes comma but?" from our professor. But he did what he set out to do, at least in my humble opinion. He held our intellectual feet to the fire without being mean or demeaning. And we will be better lawyers for it.

(I should also add that, in honor of my professor, I double checked this for spelling and grammar. Who could forget the list of commonly misspelled words on his syllabus? The only markings on my final exam were where he corrected spelling or grammatical errors.)