Supremely interesting

Washington DC- After walking East Capitol Street on an unseasonably warm November morning, I arrived at the line to the halls of justice, the highest court in the land, the Supreme Court. Attending an oral argument was my goal, but it took some time for me to get the courage to talk to one of the police officers and discover that I needed a ticket to wait in line. The ticket was numbered 87, but I had the impression that lines were known to stretch far longer and that I would manage to get in to meet my goal on this Monday morning.

My interest in the Supreme Court was governmental tourism. History gets made, policy gets interpreted a few blocks from my home and most days I don't even remember to wave as I ride by. With time on my side this week, I could go hear an oral argument. I had no idea what I was getting in to. The Internet was informative, but didn't really give me much context. Fortunately, a gentleman in line provided several of us the story that we needed. The case was First American Financial vs. Edwards. According to the helpful line lawyer the case was about legal standing. On the surface it was a case of a woman upset that the insurance she had purchased related to her real estate purchase had been through a company that received funding/a cut/a kickback from the real estate company that recommended the insurance. Although she seemed to have no complaint about the insurance or even the price, this "kickback" was the basis of the case and the justices were particularly focused on injury "in fact" versus injury "in law". I'm not a lawyer and can't pretend to be one, but without this context I think I would have been completely dumbfounded by the proceedings.

Getting into the court required a series of checks along with the shedding of most carried personal belongings. There was a mixture of fascination and confusion as we entered the courtroom. Large columns and red velvet curtains provided the back drop for the nine justices. I immediately recognized Justice Thomas and was soon able to determine the identities of Chief Justice Roberts, Justice Sotomayor, and Justice Ginsburg. If pressed I would have been able to pick out Justice Scalia as well, but beyond that I was drawing blanks.

During the first argument I was enthralled by body language. Thomas looked like he wanted to be anywhere else on this Monday morning. I guess even the Supreme Court is a job. Breyer (I'd discover later) tended to lean back in his chair staring upward deep in thought. A light placed far above him seemed to shine down on his balding head and glow. That sounds disrespectful, but once the justices questions started coming, it was awe-inspiring. They were clearly brilliant individuals. Their questions were often in plain language, but insightful and referential. They made the crowd laugh in several instances; Scalia in particular toward the end as the counsel had said something like "There are two sides to this issue" and Justice Scalia had said "Yours and theirs."

After the first argument, I thought for sure the court would side with Edwards, but they probed the opposing counsel with equal interest and skepticism. I've never wanted to be a lawyer, and watching the lawyers sway and dodge and try to answer the justices questions didn't change my mind, but I have to admit to being extremely impressed, sometimes even awed at the proceedings. I just found a new respect for the judicial branch of government.

A piece of work

I made a P.A.C.T. with myself. I'll fill parts of my days with Productivity, Activity (of the physical sort), Creativity, and Thanks (giving). I woke up early and did yoga. C put me to work at her place of employment. I took a test and now I'll give thanks in acrostic form. Check and check. That will just leave the driving and the finding out whether my audio book selection was a winner.

Thanks for the time which suddenly seems so prevalent
How about that peace that comes from morning yoga?
All I want is to enjoy the quiet a little longer
Now I'm ready to enjoy lunch
Kind of hoping for BBQ
Sweet tea, too.

A regular pot o' emotion

This year is really an odd one. We've been through the part where I have stopped exercising and started working late, but we haven't yet been through the part where I have one work day left in 2011. I chose this particular renewal vacation schedule so as I left for Thanksgiving I could tell my coworkers, "See you in 2012."

In September and October, I thought this day would never come. In the last two weeks, I realized the day was almost here. For most of last week, my giddiness grew with each passing day. I'd wake up early and stressed, but go to work singing. The songs would wear off by 10, but I'd always find a moment or six that reminded me that my work for the year was almost done. I worked later hours, but it didn't matter with respite coming.

Today was not like the other days. It dragged a bit. Every project that seemed done suddenly came back to need just a little more. Other projects started to unfold before me. I couldn't think them through. My thoughts clicked and whirred, but the gears didn't seem to be turning. I struggled.

Then some other gears began to turn. These weren't the work-maker gears. These were the doubting gears. Will work realize that I am the peter principle personified? What if my dad is right and they discover in my absence that I wasn't really that useful any way? What am I going to do with all this time? Can I even fill an evening without Ultimate? What if I'm bored? Or worse, what if I want to go back to work?

I'll have a few days to think through those questions, but just one more day to practice my "craft" in '11. It's just so cool to say. If I wasn't so nervous, I'd never tire of it.

Trying to take the hippo from the hypocrite

I'm aware that what I'm about to write borders on hypocritical, but like a non-resident alien, I don't really have anywhere to go with this. I'm worried about the written word. This concern has been expressed before, probably quite loudly in a few newsrooms, but it comes to my fingertips from an unexpected source.

I was buying greeting cards last night. On the surface, this seems to show a traditionalist's support of the postal service, Hallmark, and words. Upon closer examination, we find that I was wholly unable to resist the charms of the musical cards. Even with the 150% mark-up in price and my usually conservative wallet, the music could not be stopped. Dear Mr. Mclean, the music did not die, they just made it really small and hid it in the grocery store aisle inside birthday greetings. Love, Dave.

I'm certain there were suitable cards for dads, bros, nieces and nephews, but again and again I was drawn to the cards that could make the recipient sing and dance. This makes some sense when buying for my nieces. They will sing and dance with a musical card. They will open and shut that card until the music does visit good old Don or the paper wears away to shreds, but my brother-in-law? He might chuckle, but he won't keep that card around until it wears thin. He'll toss it. Logically, I know it, and yet, as I said, I couldn't resist. The musical cards spoke to me (some quite literally) and they made me smile fondly and think of my family. The regular cards failed to capture that same spirit. I didn't regret my decision until I was home. The music was too strong and had moved me too far from the 99 cent rack. Now, I wonder if I also helped to kill the radio star. What's next? Bookstores?

Oh yeah... Speaking of that, author Ann Patchet just opened a book store in her town because she didn't want to live in a town without a bookstore after the last independent one closed. I'm impressed on a number of levels, but most impressed by the idea that Ms. Patchet is successful enough to say bookstores and words mean so much to me, I'm not letting them go down without a fight. That's a fight I might like to join.

Ads of the 80s

I don't think I remember the famous Apple commercial from the 1984 Superbowl game itself. I know the commercial, but I think it was one of those things that got discussed for many years and then it came to the forefront for me while studying advertising in school. It was a breakthrough commercial and it resurfaced in conversation again recently when Steve Jobs passed. At some point along this sine wave of life, I'd made the assumption that everyone my age knew that commercial. That assumption seems to get harder to make in the world of the Internet, but I think every book in college referenced it once. (You'll see why 1984, won't be like The Golden Ass. I kid.)

I forgot not everybody had so many books about advertising, so I was surprised to learn that C hadn't seen it. I made her watch it, but I don't think it changed her much. Not too long after my run-in with memories of the 1984 commercial, I visited Wendy's. Up on the signs it said, "Where's the beef?" I pointed in amusement, but the college guys I was with didn't even smile. Then it hit me. I was 6 when that older woman and her two friends were squawking, "Where's the beef?" They were 10 years from being born. I know my teachers discussed the Wendy's commercial in college, but that one was a cultural tsunami. I saw it for sure. Probably during Dukes of Hazzard. Everybody got inquisitive about meat. My memory isn't much, but I'm almost certain I remember my own grandmother asking, "Where's the beef?" and laughing. Now, today, out of the deep recesses of my mind I recalled another commercial from the 1980s. It was a Folgers coffee commercial that involved secretly switching regular coffee with Folgers crystals. I wasn't drinking coffee or even thinking about coffee, so I'm really not sure what stirred memory. Caught up in this wave of 1980s advertising, I have to wonder what will shake out next and also what I'd do for a Klondike bar.