Mini-You
My Dearest Love,
Today I witnessed something that would have made you very proud. Our children are in the middle of their annual Youth In Government retreat and I was invited to drive down to the capitol to meet with them and take them to lunch.
It's been a while since I was inside that big pile of marble and I had forgotten how interesting it is - the stonework, the murals, the words of wisdom chiseled into the walls everywhere. Your daughter met me under the rotunda with my "visitor" ID badge and proceeded to show me around her turf, which this year is the Supreme Court.
She showed me the chamber where she heard her cases and it was, as you might imagine, the first time I was in that particular part of the capitol. High on the four walls were John LaFarge murals depicting the history of "law."
I was surprised by the intimacy of the room. It seemed too small to contain the enormacy of the ideas expressed there. The lectern that stood in front of the bench was half way between the visitor's gallery and the bench itself. I estimate that someone standing there would be only about ten feet from the center seat on the other side of the wooden desk that makes up the bench. A short distance when you are under the focused inspection of the presiding justice. Much like an ant must feel when some unseen celestial body holds a magnifying glass between it and the sun which blazes above and heats the spot where it is standing to a combustible temperature. This I witnessed today.
Your daughter is the chief presiding judge of the State Supreme Court this year and she knows her stuff.
Who would have thunk it?
When she met me to give me my visitor's badge, she came down the marble steps dressed in her usual fashion, in which the teenage brain makes the leap between their usual daily world and the world of "business" and "commerce" and "the law" and in which they believe that clothes that might as well have been spray painted on them were perfectly presentable and appropriate for a presiding chief justice.
This is a battle that I have fought, and lost, before. Today, I chose to ignore the choice in clothing and to concentrate on the spirit contained within.
We went to lunch, your son and daughter and I, at a forgettable spot just down from the capitol toward the river. How this town survives at all is a mystery to me. There was nobody downtown on this Saturday afternoon. Eventually, some others wandered into the restaurant, but I was forced to conclude that they make their living catering to the crowds that appear when the local hockey team takes the ice, and since the crowd is likely already "tuned" they don't have to concentrate too closely on the quality of their food.
Still, it was nice to spend the time with the larvae. They were full of chatter about the goings on and were clearly enjoying themselves. To witness times like this is a balm on my soul. One of the things that your son expressed to me was that your daughter was known as the "mean judge."
Now, to the quick.
We "finished" lunch with a lot of time to spare. We returned to the capitol where your daughter went off to hob-nob and politic with her contemporaries while your son, and his legal partner gave me a tour of where they did their thing. We toured the bowels of the capitol buildings and saw the appellate courts where they argued their cases (and lost their last one).
We eventually returned to the supreme court room where we waited for the first afternoon case in which your daughter would be the presiding chief justice.
The moment came when the balif (recruited out of the crowd) said "All rise" and then proceeded to mispronouce your daughter's name, provoking a smile as she proceeded to her chair in the center of the bench. That was the last smile that graced her face over that time.
From the opening moment, there was no doubt who was in control of the process. Your daughter pinned those poor attorneys in place with quick stabs of penetrating questions. Lord protect you if you appear before her unprepared. I saw one young man literally quaking in his shoes as he stood at the lectern before her.
And it was not a gratuitous grilling that she gave them. It was pertinent and clearly knowledgeable to the case in question. I was impressed, and proud. You would have been too.
With that, I will say farewell. There are some other things going on that I need to talk to you about, but that will wait until the next time.
with love,
D.
Today I witnessed something that would have made you very proud. Our children are in the middle of their annual Youth In Government retreat and I was invited to drive down to the capitol to meet with them and take them to lunch.
It's been a while since I was inside that big pile of marble and I had forgotten how interesting it is - the stonework, the murals, the words of wisdom chiseled into the walls everywhere. Your daughter met me under the rotunda with my "visitor" ID badge and proceeded to show me around her turf, which this year is the Supreme Court.
She showed me the chamber where she heard her cases and it was, as you might imagine, the first time I was in that particular part of the capitol. High on the four walls were John LaFarge murals depicting the history of "law."
I was surprised by the intimacy of the room. It seemed too small to contain the enormacy of the ideas expressed there. The lectern that stood in front of the bench was half way between the visitor's gallery and the bench itself. I estimate that someone standing there would be only about ten feet from the center seat on the other side of the wooden desk that makes up the bench. A short distance when you are under the focused inspection of the presiding justice. Much like an ant must feel when some unseen celestial body holds a magnifying glass between it and the sun which blazes above and heats the spot where it is standing to a combustible temperature. This I witnessed today.
Your daughter is the chief presiding judge of the State Supreme Court this year and she knows her stuff.
Who would have thunk it?
When she met me to give me my visitor's badge, she came down the marble steps dressed in her usual fashion, in which the teenage brain makes the leap between their usual daily world and the world of "business" and "commerce" and "the law" and in which they believe that clothes that might as well have been spray painted on them were perfectly presentable and appropriate for a presiding chief justice.
This is a battle that I have fought, and lost, before. Today, I chose to ignore the choice in clothing and to concentrate on the spirit contained within.
We went to lunch, your son and daughter and I, at a forgettable spot just down from the capitol toward the river. How this town survives at all is a mystery to me. There was nobody downtown on this Saturday afternoon. Eventually, some others wandered into the restaurant, but I was forced to conclude that they make their living catering to the crowds that appear when the local hockey team takes the ice, and since the crowd is likely already "tuned" they don't have to concentrate too closely on the quality of their food.
Still, it was nice to spend the time with the larvae. They were full of chatter about the goings on and were clearly enjoying themselves. To witness times like this is a balm on my soul. One of the things that your son expressed to me was that your daughter was known as the "mean judge."
Now, to the quick.
We "finished" lunch with a lot of time to spare. We returned to the capitol where your daughter went off to hob-nob and politic with her contemporaries while your son, and his legal partner gave me a tour of where they did their thing. We toured the bowels of the capitol buildings and saw the appellate courts where they argued their cases (and lost their last one).
We eventually returned to the supreme court room where we waited for the first afternoon case in which your daughter would be the presiding chief justice.
The moment came when the balif (recruited out of the crowd) said "All rise" and then proceeded to mispronouce your daughter's name, provoking a smile as she proceeded to her chair in the center of the bench. That was the last smile that graced her face over that time.
From the opening moment, there was no doubt who was in control of the process. Your daughter pinned those poor attorneys in place with quick stabs of penetrating questions. Lord protect you if you appear before her unprepared. I saw one young man literally quaking in his shoes as he stood at the lectern before her.
And it was not a gratuitous grilling that she gave them. It was pertinent and clearly knowledgeable to the case in question. I was impressed, and proud. You would have been too.
With that, I will say farewell. There are some other things going on that I need to talk to you about, but that will wait until the next time.
with love,
D.
Copyright ©2003-2007 Phaedrous
posted by Phaedrous at 5:56 PM
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