A little story – I had
just finished a five-week trial, my first big case as a lawyer. I was defending
four prominent local citizens who served as directors in a small East Tennessee
bank. The bank failed – part of Tennessee’s 1982 bank run that led a few
lawyers to suicide, ruined a number of politician’s careers, and led young
lawyers like me into battle after battle in court.
Here I was,
less than four years removed from law school and I was trying a multimillion-dollar
shareholder suit. Don’t get me wrong; I wasn’t in over my head. I was a good,
aggressive trial lawyer. I wouldn’t quit and I didn’t like to lose (two traits
that helped me survive my early days in prison). I was in court eight to ten
hours each day; then, to the office for three to four hours (plus weekends).
Finally, home to an eight-month pregnant wife.
The jury
stayed out a day and a half. Finally, a little after lunch, they came in with a
verdict: for the defense on all counts. My clients were vindicated. I drove
home and walked into a completely cleaned house and huge meal (a new recipe she
was trying – beef stroganoff). I didn’t know what “nesting” meant until later,
that surge of energy right before birth.
I settled
in to watch the NIT final. It was a little after eleven when she told me her
water broke. “It’s too early.” I said (we were three weeks from his due date).
We went to the hospital got her in a room, and less than three hours later I
saw him born. He was beautiful. And I held him moments after he took his first
breath. I looked at him and knew there was a God. And I don’t know why, but I
leaned in close to him and sang my favorite Bob Dylan song, “Forever Young.” It
was for me, every wish I had for my precious son.
There are a
thousand memories like that floating in my heart and head right now. There’s
the time I was the only dad in the pool during “Mother-tot” swim and he and I
swam circles around the others. There was 1993 and my beloved New York Rangers
won the Stanley Cup, their only one since the 1940s. It was nearly 1:00 am and
I went up to his room and picked him up and carried him down to our living
room. As the players skated around the ice and Natalie Merchant’s song, “These
Are Days” played, I held him and told him this is why we stay loyal to our
teams, to our families – it’s for days like these.
For so long
we were inseparable. He thought I was perfect – the perfect lawyer, father,
husband. Maybe that was the problem. Or maybe, I led him to believe the world
was black and white. Either way, my arrest changed us. It destroyed a family
and for that I am solely responsible. Someone asked me a question about my “ex”
the other day and in a moment of unimaginable honesty I told her I live with
more heartache over my ex and my sons than anyone knows. There is nothing that
prison could do to me that cuts me quite like that.
My older
son turns 26 tomorrow. He is a remarkable young man – An honors graduate of a
prestigious liberal arts college and a soon-to-be law school grad. He married
his college sweetheart who is as beautiful as she is brilliant. He has his
whole life ahead of him – a great job already lined up; a young wife who loves
him. And I miss him terribly.
Birthdays,
anniversaries, so many memories. Those are my real prison sentence. But, like
Paul in his letter to the Romans put it, “But we hope for what we do not see,
with perseverance we wait eagerly for it.”
Maybe Paul
Simon explained it better. I found myself singing this song as I ran this
morning:
“Oh little
darling of mine
I just
can’t believe it’s so
And though
it seems strange to say
I never
been laid so low
In such a
mysterious way
And the
course of a lifetime runs
Over and
over again
But I would
not give you false hope
On this
strange and mournful day
When the
mother and child reunion
Is only a
motion away.
Happy
Birthday son. I love you. Dad.
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