The Life

• Author: Kenneth P. Nolan
• Pages: 189-193

The Life

189

I never wanted to be a lawyer. No one else in the neighborhood

dreamed of being the next Clarence Darrow or arguing before the

Supreme Court. Joe Kelly wanted to be Ernie Banks. Joey Hajjar

dreamed of roaming center field in Yankee Stadium like the Mick.

As a short, skinny kid, I wanted to dribble through a crowd and

wow them like Cousy.

Joe Kelly delivered mail and the Haj owned a pool business in

Austin. I became a lawyer and it’s not so bad. Of course, I would

still like to be Dwyane Wade throwing the no-look pass to LeBron.

Or making a three at the buzzer to finish the Lakers. Maybe in my

next life.

But I’m tired of all the whining and moaning, as if legal work

were the current equivalent of scraping coal out of the dust-en-

crusted mines of the 1930s. Step back and take an objective look at

lawyer gripes: Isn’t it terrible that our lofty profession—which once

consisted of gentlemen whose word was sacred—has degenerated

into a business where adjournments of minor matters must be in

writing with affidavits? I can’t browse a legal publication without

an old windbag (like me) lamenting the loss of camaraderie, or some

judge in her black robes, who hasn’t bought a meal since ascend-

ing her throne, decrying the loss of courtesy. Or some wide-eyed,

Generation-X, spoiled suburbanite with an expensive Ivy League