So yesterday I went to the office to check on the state of some files, and left with Don Henley's "First Laundry" playing in my head: "You don't really want to know how far it's gone.." I was being dramatic to myself -- turns out that different practitioners have different styles, is all, and probably the smarter ones who want to avoid stress take a more hands off approach.
But I had been invited for a cocktail with a young Turk mentee of mine, who I'll call Mike, since that's his name, and the day brightened. To show off my cred, I brushed off his suggestion we meet at old standby Trulucks, in favor of a new hip place opened by the Carbone guy named Dirty French Steakhouse. Well, my cred was off, as they open at 5, and we were meeting at 430, to give him time to make a meeting nearby at 6.
I called an audible and picked Drake's Bar, off the lobby of the JW Marriott. I had been to weddings at that hotel, and its restuarant, but never it's English Club-type watering hole. I loved it immediately -- joking with the Cubana barkeeper -- and then Mike and I caught up over martinis and beer. His wife is expecting their second child any day now -- she's a dear friend and former sorority sister of D1 -- and it was delightful.
Mike deals with life and career essentially the same way I did 30 years ago. He's in the chips big time lately, as his firm is kicking ass and taking names, but he realizes that the chips may roll away any year, and is therefore committed to living below their means. He grew up very middle class, in Broward, as did his wife, and so their current means are well above their childhood means -- but he keeps that sensibility. I shared with him tales of some of my cohort who made some shekels and lived like rock stars -- and then when the shekels slowed, dealt with that stress that comes from painting yourself into a materialistic corner.
He left for his work/social function, and I then did one of my favorite things: ate dinner alone at a bar. I also got a veggie burger to go for Wifey -- causing the barkeeper to ask if I had any brothers who might be available to marry. Ha -- no -- just WAY older sisters.
Today Juan had me do some kinds of movements that caused my legs to say "WTF?" and then I got a lovely text -- from Ellie. Ellie was one of the "little girls" we employed at our firm -- friends of our former secretary Norma's daughter Monica -- they were students at Braddock High, and we brought them in to help with filing and clerical duties. Two of them, Janet and Ellie, ended up staying for years -- through college and grad school, as our job allowed very flexible hours and a great environment.
Janet became a school psychologist/counseler, and now has boys the age she was when she started with us! Ellie went farther educationally -- got a doctorate -- and is now a school principal!!!!
She texted because her family needed a worker's comp lawyer, and I referred her to my friend Dave. But she sent pictures of her baby sons (or so I remembered) graduating college! And she told me she loves her career as a principal at a charter school. But wait, I thought -- she's only 16 -- how can she be CEO of a school?
Of course, the answer is the march of time...
I spoke to an old friend yesterday, who is a long time Broward County caseworker. She got her MSW a bit later in life, early 30s, and has worked over a quarter century for the County. She is miserable. "You're retired! Everyone I know is retired! I need to retire, too!" She hopes to do so, soon -- she shared that the money she spends on therapy to allow her to refrain from "going postal" is starting to equal the income she brings in.
It reminded me of a Brownie meeting I attended for D2 -- probably 26 years ago. One of the Moms was a long time Dade teacher. She went on and on about how much she hated it -- the decades of nasty students, worse parents, and incompetent administrators had taken their toll. She was about to join the DROP program and leave in 5 years. I remember thinking how bad I felt for her students -- stuck with an educator who was so over it all and bitter.
I also thought of her for another reason. She had planned to move away from "Dangerous South Florida" since her sister taught at a school out west. It was a far safer place. I hadn't heard the name until recently -- Moscow, Idaho. Of course, there was just a grisly multiple killing there. Wherever you go -- there you are.
But I guess the point is -- hang around younger folks. They're on the make. They want to effect change. And that is something to say.
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