I wonder sometimes about the confluence of life's events that bring us to where we are. The Masters golf tournament actually got me thinking about that. Argentine golfer Angel Cabrera, pictured at left, won the tournament in a "sudden death" playoff, even after knocking his ball into the woods on the first hole of the playoff. He'd hit this shot into another tree where it would improbably carom out into the middle of the fairway, saving his chance at par and allowing him to stay in the game for the next hole, where he'd win the tournament. It was like he was meant to win. Poor 48 year-old Kenny Perry, who'd lead the tournament for the entire day up until the final hole, seemed meant to lose it. Life's like that. I had a chance to go to the Masters. My boss had offered me tickets for Sunday's round one year, when he couldn't go. I told him no. It was Easter, and I wanted to spend it with my family. Politically, it was a dumb move: there would have been attorneys and judges with whom I was supposed to mingle. Professionally, it was a stupid move, too, for the same reasons, and because I'd said "no" to my boss. As a sports fan, it was unquestionably not too bright, because tickets to the Masters are among the toughest to get in sports.
Was it a good decision? I've not been close to being able to go the Masters since then. I'm divorced. I'm no longer politically "connected". It's pretty unlikely I'll be elected to the Senate. It's pretty unlikely I'll ever get rich. I'm a public defender in a small town in South Carolina. Still, I see pictures of the Easters during that time, and I'm not sure it wasn't the right decision. The Lads hadn't yet arrived, but Babymamma had Davis and Caroline dressed so nicely. The family would fracture, but we didn't- couldn't- know at the time that it would. Was it the right decision? In the end, it doesn't matter. Whatever will be, will be.
(Or you can view an edgier version by Pink Martini (with video clips from British sci-fi series, Dr. Who)):
9 comments:
Just you writing about remembering your kids dressed up, you made the right decision.
And yes, you are a public defender, an honorable job. But... you could go into private practice, no?
I was in private practice by myself for seven years. I'm not good at making money. I ended up doing mostly real estate closings and divorces, both of which I hate. I like the public defender's office. I do believe it's what I was meant to do. It's just not a status job, is all.
I wonder sometimes about the confluence of life's events that bring us to where we are.I wonder that every day. So many variables; so many choices; and here we are. Who knew Doris Day would make you think?
Status Schmatus...who needs that? If you like what you do and feel that's where you should be, then you are in the right place.
If I am ever in your town and get myself into any trouble (not that it would ever happen, me in trouble that is...well maybe for....J -walking)...I will call you.
I've always liked that song, John, and it seems like Doris Day was made to sing it. As a couple of the characters that have adorned your blogsite would tell us, it IS a wonderful life (if strange, sometimes).
Thanks, Tam. I'd be happy to help you unofficially. Officially? Well, you probably have too much household income to qualify (and you'd have to be charged with a crime, which doesn't seem in your personality).
I think you made the right decision for you! Think of how your life could have been. Ulcer and or worse by 40; political power dinners/parties, missing taking the lads or Davis or Caroline anywhere, being able to be yourself good, bad or ugly. Your kids know their dad not the back of your head when you are around... You did good!
Thanks, JG. I'm sure you're right. Well, fairly sure, anyway. I do enjoy my job and I do get to spend a lot of time with my kids (though WAY too much time at the Principal's office).
Oh, and SuperD, wasn't that the year of Tiger's first Master's championship? Very historical, but still, I'm with you, it was the right decision, if you make enough right decisions things generally work out all right (provided you are rich!)
That's how I'd always remembered it, and that's how I've told it. But then I did the math: Tiger won his first one in 1997; my last year working with Jim was 1995.
Post a Comment