Hamlet, the lawyer

I drive through the country from Griffin to Senoia to LaGrange and back again. I try to do my job as best I possibly can and be of service to people so they will want to make use of my services and pay me for them. I want to use my knowledge and experience in a constructive way. I want to provide people with a service in such a manner that they will want to continue to make use of my services, that they will trust me and will want to tell others that I am a good provider of services, and that my reputation will be such that the desire to make use of my services will grow. I want them to come to me and send people to me and grow my business.

People tend to expect something close to perfection from me. They expect a level of competency which is beyond what they expect from themselves.

Consider this. An attorney has two functions. The first function is to attain a level of expertise concerning the laws which affect people in the community. This level of expertise is trusted by others so that they come to me and request my opinion on the law when they attempt to act in society, so that they do not fall prey to the laws through their actions.

The second function of an attorney is to act for another. This is the part of an attorney's function which comes from the concept of an attorney in fact. People place their ability to act in society in the hands of the attorney so that the actions will be handled in such a manner to ensure that these actions are lawful. Or perceived by those whose responsibility is to enforce the law as lawful

There are problems with these functions. First of all, everyone is expected to act lawfully. Everyone is expected to know the laws as well as any other in society. In these expections, no one has an advantage over others. As a matter of fact, a layman's knowledge of the laws may even be clearer than an attorney, particularly in an area in which the layman has special expertise.

Secondly, the lawyer may not have any greater expertise than the layman in knowledge of the law. Surely, when one graduates from a law school and passes the bar and is sworn in as an attorney, they probably have a greater expertise than your average layman. However, this is no guarantee. It is probable that a legal secretary acquires a working knowledge of the law that becomes equivalent to the lawyer for which she or he is employed. Sometimes the layman may actually go to the secretary to seek advise in deference to the lawyer she works for. This has happened many times.

Often, a layman will ignore the expertise or knowledge of the lawyer. This may arise because of the personality of the layman. It may arise from the ego of the layman. It may arise from a desire to save money. All of these create problems for the lawyer and the layman. Ultimately, they create a situation in which the layman suffers and then blames the lawyer for his ills.

This often creates a situation in which the skills and knowledge of the lawyer are discounted by the layman or even denied. It also creates a situation in which the lawyer's place and position in society are denigrated.

When this happens, the actions of the lawyer are placed under a microscope and examined more closely than almost any other person in society. Any shortcoming or failure is perceived more harshly than others. The irony of this is that the lawyer is the only professional whose actions are held in this way and whose actions are held under the scrutiny of the agency which sanctions their actions but also by the professionals who are their brothers and sisters in the profession. Is there any other profession which polices itself like lawyers?

I am reminded of Hamlet's famous solliquy. Who indeed would suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, when one might make his peace with a bare bodkin (knife)? This does make calamity of such a short life. Perhaps it is only the possibility of capital and wealth which in fact does make the livelihood worth the risk and perception in the culture.

I became a lawyer to provide a livelihood, respect in the community and an opportunity to serve others. At least I have the opportunity to serve others. For now.

A weekend full of fun

What a sad combination:
The end of the week,
No plans
And little money dribbling in.
Can I find something to do that is fun
For Kate and me
And doesn't cost an arm and a leg?
Or am I doomed to sit inside
And watch the clock hands whirl round and round
The clock face
And wish I was somewhere else
Or someone else?
I guess I could go into the office tomorrow
And push paper around my desk and try to clean off the floor
And send posts throught the post office.
Of course, I need to fertilize the tomatoes and basil
And fix the deadbolt on the carport door at home.
Well, there is always something to do at home
Or at the office.
I would like to recreate though,
But that always takes time and money,
Things that are not necessarily in large supply around here.
What fun!

Thursday before the end of the week and the end of the month

Well, Cindy has to go to Knoxville early because her mother is sick and in the hospital. That means Kate and I stay home and wait until after Tuesday to go to Knoxville. That is truly the way we should have gone in the first place. Cindy needs a car in Knoxville and there is no real reason why we need to drive her up to Knoxville on Saturday only to return on Sunday to go back to Knoxville on Tuesday afternoon. This is the way it should go.

My day tomorrow has disentegrated and I need my morning to work on things in the office. My day has been extended to Saturday and Monday. I should have a little time to have fun with Kate on Saturday and Sunday.

Things have been going pretty well all things considered. The money appears to be lean but the truth is that it has been spread over debts. I am a little short of meeting my obligations on a steady basis but am meeting them in the long run. There is little sympathy but everyone seems to be allowing a little room to make it work. I am a little tired of asking for more time from my creditors. It is true that when you owe someone you work for them.

I am tired of working for my creditors. That is why I am living on a cash basis and trying to retire my debts. It took a long time to get to this place, but I just need a little more time and a little more cash flow.

Is this what being an adult is all about? Probably.

Drifting westward

I love to drive westward. The concept of chasing the sunset is enormously attractive.Is there a better sunset than one experienced on the horizon, over water? I think not.

In contrast, can there be anything more ridiculous than seeing the old men in Miami, turning their lawn chairs to the west to attempt to experience the sunset as it sets over the pink and turqouise buildings of Miami Beach. Don't they know the darkness of evening is catching them by the shoulders and dropping them back on their pillows, while the young ones play the night away?

It is true sometimes that a sunset over a grassy nothingness can be alluring. I remember watching the sun drift down below the horizon over the grassy fields outside Crescent Beach, near Cowboy's Seafood Restaurant. It gave the illusion of watching the sun over the savannah in Africa.

But that is just illusion. It demands creativity to appreciate. But the sunset over the sea is a different animal. One can feel the tug on one's heart as one looks out over the ocean. There is a race memory, feeling your being pushed out and away from land to some new place. Is this a predominately American feeling? Do we all feel the push across the sea toward the foreign sunsets? Do we follow our ancestors as we yearn for the calling toward the west?

The gold of the sunset over the gulf or ocean or any body of water is magic. It calls to us. It draws us out of ourselves to a place we do not know. It promises new lives for each of us. It is golden.

Summer torpor

The combination of a large fat-encrusted luncheon
Plated on the cool green linoleum
And a warm Summer afternoon
Is too complete of a creation
To survive this lack of napping
As my arms are heavy-laden
And yearning for a short sleep.

Sometimes the things we could have, should have done
Haunt us deeper than we recognize.
Must I eat again?

I am drifting, drifting, waiting for release.

Mercury morning

The air drifts like sweet pine-resin molasses
The birds are softly atwitter
And the squirrels are now appearing on the curtelage of my vision
I sit and sip my morning tea
As the thick musk of the lake rises up on vapors from the water's surface
Singing, "Peace, peace, peace."

Suddenly, the sound of pickups bump across the cracked pavement
Barrelling clumsily down the road behind me
They are pulling fiberglass bass boats on trailers, wizzing down the roadway,
Around the turn and on down to the boatramp
Where droopy-eyed men immerse their crafts sensuously
Into the green-grey water of the lake,
Smelling sweetly of diesel, algae and detrius,
To undertake their pursuit of those silver piscine phantoms
Which slyly hide among the crisp, green grasses and leggy cattails;
Their hopes springing eternal.

The fat engines broiling through the churn of the prop in the water,
Those fat, old boys are sitting precariously on spindly limbs in chairs
Tossing their hopeful lures along the shoreline,
Out and back, out and back, out and back, in ponderous rythmn,
Disturbing the sleep of the alligator watchmen slipping cautiously below the waters
As they pull a second cold one out of the box behind them
In an effort to silence the echoes of those beers
Consumed during the previous evening's meanderings
Which left the dark shadows below their heavy eyelids
And moved them to hit the throttle on the outboard engine
A little harder this time

And so they permanently cracked the crystal silence I had blissfully enjoyed
Before they broke the sweet rapture
With their rude motoring on this formerly quiet, early Summer morning.

Nightmares Reconsidered

As the day wore on, what little time I gave to the nightmare of the night before began to shred in to a different take on the thoughts of late night trauma. The concept of NASCAR legends serving as elders at Presbytery meetings began to take a comical take. By the time I left work and went to church the importance of the dream began to unravel. Finally, I took this dream to my spiritual advisor, Father Timothy. His response? Get a life!

Now I worry about taking this stuff too seriously. Or should our pastor be replaced?