PS help wanted -- is this too political?
Posted: Sun Feb 16, 2014 5:21 pm
This is just my first draft of this, would appreciate both criticisms as well as components you feel are strong.
Vagrant. Undesirable. Societally leprous. These were just a few of the labels James had shared with me as we discussed his interactions with the people that walk by him each day as he starts his by begging for any pittance he can get his hands on. Before I lead you to think otherwise, I would likely have been the same person that walks on by without stopping to give of my finances towards James’s daily struggle for survival. But on the bitterly cold December day when James and I first interacted, he wasn’t looking for charity -- he wanted answers.
I had barely stepped foot on the sidewalk when a bedraggled man approached me and wanted to know why life wasn’t fair. The man went on to express the paradox of his desire to sober up with his inability to tame his fleshly need for the drinks he continually scorned each following morning. The subtle slur of his words and the not-so subtle scent of booze on his breath gave me reason to believe that any attempt at answering his question may be better received at a later time. Pulling a wadded piece of paper from my coat, I jotted my name and phone number on it, placing it in his hand as I clasped it tight around the parchment. I instructed him to call me once he was feeling better so we can discuss his query at a better venue at that time.
To my surprise, the call did come and that “better venue” became a booth at the McDonald’s location nearest the spot where James and I met just a week earlier. Looking across the table I saw almost none of the downtrodden and woeful man that had approached me. While his attire did little more than serve its purpose of warmth, this man was handsome, his teeth pearly and his face cleanly shaven. It made a lasting impression on me; I remember thinking, this man prepared for our meeting. I learned that James had been battling a history of substance abuse, a struggle that he identified as the genesis of what then became frequent run-ins with the law that now saw him struggling to find peace with his estranged family.
********************************************
It was January 2011 and I was riding down Maui’s Mt. Haleakala on a bicycle with my two best friends in one of the most scenic places in the world. During a brief stop for hydration in a small community on our way back to the base of the mountain, I received a phone call. The lab work that I thought I had nothing to worry about had returned -- cancer. I don’t know that I can accurately describe the emotions you feel when you are informed that cancer has struck your body, but I remember feeling like an injustice had occurred when the nurse gave me the news -- like life wasn’t fair.
My mind was consumed with the memories of watching the life widdle away from my dear grandfather as he eventually succumbed to his battle with pancreatic cancer. I thought back to a childhood friend who also lost his fight, this one being at the hands of brain cancer at the far too young age of just 10 years old. Would this be my fate? I felt as good as ever but the pathology report indicated otherwise. I, like James, felt that at that moment life just wasn’t fair.
The following week I found myself sitting in the waiting room at one of the best doctors money and coverage could provide. It was at this moment that I again thought to myself that life wasn’t fair. Wouldn’t fair mean I would be at one of the most average of doctors I could see? Fair would mean that whatever health care plan or financial resources were available to me to see the very best doctor would be of little weight because if life were truly fair, all would have the same access to this sort of care.
Through subsequent conversations with James, I learned about a Jennifer, James’s parole officer. I am no expert in the requirements that a parole officer has to its convicts, but I am certain that Jennifer exceeded them daily. James had very little in way of resources, both financially and in terms of possessions. When he needed to be in his western Kansas hometown to attend his brother’s funeral weeks earlier, Jennifer drove him. Four hours each way on a Saturday. James had shared with me about the time she had reprimanded him in her office after seeing him ridiculing a fellow homeless person because of the fact that he was on disability. When an unexpected winter storm struck the city, she grabbed her warmest blanket and got in her car searching for James, eventually finding him crawled up in the cutout of a downtown building, his teeth chattering and his body shaking.
Within the context of a legal schooling, I see the opportunity to be an advocate to those who need to be heard. A legal education can pave the way for me to represent an individual in such a way that a more equitable future is what is ultimately awarded. It permits the possibility to see a sustainable positive impact come from seemingly bleak situations. I am excited about the opportunity to receive this tutelage not because of what it may eventually afford me, but due to the positive impact that can be had with the accrual of legal knowledge.
How fair was it that a man that had made the kinds of decisions James had was able to be assigned an all-star parole officer like Jennifer? I suppose that question may be answered in various ways, but what I ultimately told James when he wanted to know why life isn’t fair is that it doesn’t matter why it isn’t fair. In life, we are both unfortunate to not receive what we feel we deserve and lucky to receive better than what we have earned.
Vagrant. Undesirable. Societally leprous. These were just a few of the labels James had shared with me as we discussed his interactions with the people that walk by him each day as he starts his by begging for any pittance he can get his hands on. Before I lead you to think otherwise, I would likely have been the same person that walks on by without stopping to give of my finances towards James’s daily struggle for survival. But on the bitterly cold December day when James and I first interacted, he wasn’t looking for charity -- he wanted answers.
I had barely stepped foot on the sidewalk when a bedraggled man approached me and wanted to know why life wasn’t fair. The man went on to express the paradox of his desire to sober up with his inability to tame his fleshly need for the drinks he continually scorned each following morning. The subtle slur of his words and the not-so subtle scent of booze on his breath gave me reason to believe that any attempt at answering his question may be better received at a later time. Pulling a wadded piece of paper from my coat, I jotted my name and phone number on it, placing it in his hand as I clasped it tight around the parchment. I instructed him to call me once he was feeling better so we can discuss his query at a better venue at that time.
To my surprise, the call did come and that “better venue” became a booth at the McDonald’s location nearest the spot where James and I met just a week earlier. Looking across the table I saw almost none of the downtrodden and woeful man that had approached me. While his attire did little more than serve its purpose of warmth, this man was handsome, his teeth pearly and his face cleanly shaven. It made a lasting impression on me; I remember thinking, this man prepared for our meeting. I learned that James had been battling a history of substance abuse, a struggle that he identified as the genesis of what then became frequent run-ins with the law that now saw him struggling to find peace with his estranged family.
********************************************
It was January 2011 and I was riding down Maui’s Mt. Haleakala on a bicycle with my two best friends in one of the most scenic places in the world. During a brief stop for hydration in a small community on our way back to the base of the mountain, I received a phone call. The lab work that I thought I had nothing to worry about had returned -- cancer. I don’t know that I can accurately describe the emotions you feel when you are informed that cancer has struck your body, but I remember feeling like an injustice had occurred when the nurse gave me the news -- like life wasn’t fair.
My mind was consumed with the memories of watching the life widdle away from my dear grandfather as he eventually succumbed to his battle with pancreatic cancer. I thought back to a childhood friend who also lost his fight, this one being at the hands of brain cancer at the far too young age of just 10 years old. Would this be my fate? I felt as good as ever but the pathology report indicated otherwise. I, like James, felt that at that moment life just wasn’t fair.
The following week I found myself sitting in the waiting room at one of the best doctors money and coverage could provide. It was at this moment that I again thought to myself that life wasn’t fair. Wouldn’t fair mean I would be at one of the most average of doctors I could see? Fair would mean that whatever health care plan or financial resources were available to me to see the very best doctor would be of little weight because if life were truly fair, all would have the same access to this sort of care.
Through subsequent conversations with James, I learned about a Jennifer, James’s parole officer. I am no expert in the requirements that a parole officer has to its convicts, but I am certain that Jennifer exceeded them daily. James had very little in way of resources, both financially and in terms of possessions. When he needed to be in his western Kansas hometown to attend his brother’s funeral weeks earlier, Jennifer drove him. Four hours each way on a Saturday. James had shared with me about the time she had reprimanded him in her office after seeing him ridiculing a fellow homeless person because of the fact that he was on disability. When an unexpected winter storm struck the city, she grabbed her warmest blanket and got in her car searching for James, eventually finding him crawled up in the cutout of a downtown building, his teeth chattering and his body shaking.
Within the context of a legal schooling, I see the opportunity to be an advocate to those who need to be heard. A legal education can pave the way for me to represent an individual in such a way that a more equitable future is what is ultimately awarded. It permits the possibility to see a sustainable positive impact come from seemingly bleak situations. I am excited about the opportunity to receive this tutelage not because of what it may eventually afford me, but due to the positive impact that can be had with the accrual of legal knowledge.
How fair was it that a man that had made the kinds of decisions James had was able to be assigned an all-star parole officer like Jennifer? I suppose that question may be answered in various ways, but what I ultimately told James when he wanted to know why life isn’t fair is that it doesn’t matter why it isn’t fair. In life, we are both unfortunate to not receive what we feel we deserve and lucky to receive better than what we have earned.
