Glory Days

Last Thursday was a banner day. My partner mediated a case which our brilliant appellate consultant told us was a complete loser, and persuaded an insurance adjuster to pay our client a large chunk of money. The fee to us will help keep us in high clover for awhile longer.

To celebrate, I went along to a dinner in a swanky new restaurant in Aventura. I say went along because it was a previously planned meeting between my partner and two of his old law school pals, classes of 1974 and 1975. They assured my partner they didn't mind having a kid brother along --and, the class of 74 guy, now disbarred and living somewhat on the edge financially, figured I'd top the bill, as the Brits say.

We had a fine time, and it was interesting to listen to these fellows, approaching 60, philosophize on "life's meaning." After going around in circles talking about charity, their kids, hard work, etc...the conclusion seemed to be that they were going to stay at the high paying jobs to continue to generate the money needed to sustain high living. Talk about dripping profundity!

Thereafter, the conversation turned to the heady days of high school and college in the late 60s and early 70s, and memories of naked pool parties with female members of their class. The problem is, I KNOW some of these people now --also approaching 60, and the visual I morphed in my mind of these romps occurring TODAY was enough to cause me to skip dessert.

So --these guys, 11 and 12 years my senior, don't have any more clue about things than I do. MAybe it all comes down to a bumper sticker that was popular in the 1970s --"Gas, Grass, or Ass --No One Rides For Free."

To once again quote the bard of Freehold, NJ, on the subject of glory days: I hope when I get old I don't sit around talking about them --but I probably will.