TO-WIT: GRACIOUS ME
I knew right away what it was when I saw the envelope in the morning mail. I t was the opinion. I knew because it bore the return address of the judge before whom I had argued the case some weeks before. I knew because i t was a fairly thick envelope. And I knew because, well, because after thirty five years in the law biz, I just knew.
It was an important case, a lawsuit against a local municipality challenging an ordinance that my research had led me to conclude was beyond the power of the municipality to enact. Such cases, a challenge to authority and i t s abuse, have been the mainstay of both my practice and my psyche for a long time now. Thanks to my upbringing, I have always had a disdain for the arrogance of power, and this case, all by itself, had come to fi l l an entire rucksack in my myriad collection of emotional baggage.
Within seconds after I had ripped the envelope apart, exposing its potentially threatening innards to the light of day, I knew that I had prevailed. The court had bought my argument whole hog and had struck the ordinance down. I had won, and of
lesser import, so had my client.
Now those who know me well also know that the only professional event that makes me more obnoxious than losing is winning. I sing, I dance, I soar majestically through the ether, higher than a kite , completely oblivious to the teachings of
Icarus, and just as much at risk.
If I had the capacity to restrain it, to not be so demonstrative in my exhilaration, it might not be so bad. For much of my career however, I haven't done such a good job of reining in my feeling, and i t has sometimes been a problem.
Many years ago for instance, I tried a paternity case before a jury. It was a difficult and emotionally taxing case, and when the jury returned a favorable verdict, I started a'whoopin' and a'hollerin' right there in the courtroon. I raised my arms in victory and started chanting "who's your daddy." Under the circumstances, it was a poor choice of expressions. I embarrassed all concerned, including the foreman who discretely inquired of the judge if it was too late to reconsider the verdict.
For a long time favorable verdicts and opinions did not seem sufficient, standing alone, to fully herald my acuity. Even a skywriter's message, hailing my victory as if declaimed by heaven itself, would not have fulfilled my insatiable need for approbation. And it cost me a lot of money to boot.
But as we all come to learn, the path of self- aggrandizement is strewn with dangerous impediments. One day, inexplicable as i t sounds, I lost a case. When the jury announced i t s verdict, opposing counsel began pounding his fists on counsel's table next to me, a'whoopin' and a'hollerin', in an as obnoxious a display as I'd ever seen.
Apparently nothing rankles me more than a taste of my own petard, for I immediately poured the remainder of my still hot cappuccino into his lap. His pain was immediate and intense, and, as an added bonus, the foam would surely stain his trousers. It was right then that I determined to curb my own offensive celebrations. The possibility that someday I might run into someone just like me was far too risky.
So now, as is my current practice, I will simply place a mannerly call to opposing counsel in this case to applaud his gallant effort. He's a long time friend and I know my courtliness will infuriate the hell out of him for sure. Oh, oh, oh, this is going to be sweet.
© 2006, S. Sponte, Esq.