Kevin

The legal market wasn't great in the early '90's. In fact, CNN ran a story to that effect which featured shots from inside the library at my law school -- including a view of the back of my ponytail as I sat hunched over a desk, studying, during one of my rare stints there. There weren't a ton of good prospects for a "B" student -- even from a top school like mine. As graduation neared, I remained jobless. And worried.

I can't recall who the kind soul was who alerted me to a new listing posted on the bulletin board outside our Career Counseling office, but I made a special trip down to school just to eyeball the letter indicating that a large law firm in St. Louis was hiring.  I wrote down the firm's number but not the name of the letter's author, naively assuming that the receptionist would know where to direct me when I called. 

She didn't. I struggled to recall the name I'd seen signed at the bottom. "It started with a 'K,'" I told her. She concluded it must have been their Business Administrator, "Ken," and put me through to him. "Ken" wasn't the author. Nor was he at all interested in helping me figure out who had actually sent the letter. I almost gave up right then.

But I needed a job. So the next time I was at school, I took another gander at the letter. "Kevin." It was Kevin who was looking to hire an associate. I called back to the firm and asked to speak with "Kevin," hoping like heck I'd pronounced his last name correctly. Right or no, I was put through to Kevin and, soon enough, had lined up an interview with him and another young partner, Jeff. They'd both recently made partner and were planning to share an associate.

The interview went fine, as I recall, though a senior partner, Sam, sat in on it, too, adding to the intimidation factor. I was introduced to several other attorneys. Had nice, brief chats with them all. Felt okay about it as I left, but also had been on the receiving end of enough rejection letters already that I was prepared for the let-down.

Kevin called me at home sometime after that to offer me a job. Only it wouldn't be for him. He explained that Sam was in need of an associate, as well, and had exercised his seniority to call dibs on me. 

I got off the phone with Kevin and immediately called my best friend, Denise. I was crying. She asked why. "I got a job," I sobbed. "Then why are you crying?!" she wondered. "Because I have to take it."

It isn't that I wasn't grateful. It's just that "insurance defense" sounded dreadfully boring. And the pay was absolutely lousy. (One of my good friends from school had gotten a job at a "silk stocking" firm across the street -- for exactly double what I would be making.)

But it was a job. And I soon came to love both it and my work "family." Sam, after the initial uber-intimidating-getting-to-know-you period, became like a second father to me. And Kevin, who had been Sam's associate before becoming a partner himself, was like an older brother. (In truth, he reminded me very much of my actual older brother.)

Seven years after I began working with Sam and Kevin, they (along with Jeff and another partner, Debbie) left that large firm to start their own. RSSC was born. I was honored that they invited me to be a part of their new venture. 

I still worked primarily with Sam but at times worked with Kevin, as well. He was a great go-to for difficult insurance coverage questions and savvy trial strategy. He helped Sam and me with a mock trial on one of our most difficult cases. I wouldn't say he shot from the hip, but he jumped into it without a ton of preparation and still tried a hell of a case. 

Kevin was also the go-to for all things techy. He had a fine appreciation for technology and advocated its incorporation into our practice. He was one of the first people I knew to get an iPhone -- and I will never forget the day he introduced "Siri" to us in Sam's office. He asked her the traditional "How much wood would a woodchuck chuck?" He asked her to find Sam's home address and she got confused -- and seemingly increasingly irritated the more he asked of her. Finally, he said, "I love you." To which Siri replied contemptuously, "I don't even know who you are." We had a good laugh over that, and I teased him that they sounded like an old married couple. 

Initially, Kevin headed the firm's continuing legal education program. He handed that responsibility off to me several years in but was kind enough to serve as a speaker when asked. Programs which qualified for ethics credit were always the toughest to cobble together and Kevin was a saint for preparing several very thorough presentations on professionalism over the years. He would hand me a detailed outline -- though we'd inevitably only get through half of it as, between him and Sam, the war stories were always plentiful (and much more fun than the outlined material.)

And Kevin had some stories. He could tell you the history behind the term "red herring" -- and frequently used that one during closing argument at trial. He's the one who first told me about "Biff the Wonder Dog," a paper bag puppet created by one of Sam's other associates in answer to Sam's overly cautious insistence at one point that one needed to object to one's own questions during a deposition. Perhaps my favorite part about Kevin sharing a story was the way he'd have just the slightest hint of a smile on his face as he told it, and then his full grin would jump out at the end.

Though he and Sam are both tall, they have markedly different gaits. Each distinctive in their own way. I'd often spy Kevin and Sam heading out to lunch together and smile watching the two of them amble off together, thoroughly absorbed in a discussion of matters quite serious and intellectually challenging, no doubt. 

In the early days of the firm, the partners took turns hosting the Christmas party at their houses. Kevin and his wife, Lesa, hosted one year and, as the evening wore on, we found ourselves gathered around the piano singing carols. I was reflecting back on that fondly this past Christmas. I miss those days. 

In the fall of 2013, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Kevin, who'd already battled cancer several years earlier, was doing battle with it again. I recall being in his office and joking that we were in the sick ward wing of the firm. Not that cancer is a laughing matter -- it isn't -- but it helped to keep a sense of humor. 

I got off easy, though. Mine was caught early and responded well to traditional treatment. Kevin's was more insidious and, sadly, hell-bent on taking him from us, though he fought it mightily.

He came and visited with me in my office this past summer. He looked good. He was wearing a yellow shirt and it flattered him - made his color look good. He didn't look ill, though, after a time, I could tell he was tired.

Heather (another partner) and I had an opportunity to visit with Kevin and his family a short time ago. He'd gone on hospice and was at home. The morphine kept him from being able to participate much in the conversation, but we knew he was there and listening. He said hello when we came in. We had a nice time chatting and reminiscing with Lesa and the kids as we sat by his bed. He said a quiet, "Bye," when we left, and I replied, "Bye, dear." I wanted to say more...but then didn't know quite what. So, I did what I always do -  I started writing.

You can rest now, Kevin. Know that you will very much be missed.

Write Now

Pretty much every year for the past decade one of my New Year's resolutions has been to write more. And I've actually done just that -- in some years, at least.  

Last year, I even managed to land an official writing gig, which was a very pleasant surprise. I do love getting the opportunity to share my thoughts on a larger platform. But it isn't suited to all things I feel like writing. (Unlike some, I refuse to accept that all things are political. I love my politics, but sometimes I need my space from them.) 

So this year, in addition to writing at RedState, I'm returning to the Septic Tank. No promises as to quality -- or even quantity. Just that I'll be doodling here a bit more, relying on it as a creative outlet. 

I've made other resolutions -- and goals -- too. The past couple years, I've simply taken my list from the prior year and built upon it. Which has resulted in a couple of my resolutions actually becoming habits (yay!), though others have repeatedly fizzled out. That whole exercise/running thing, for instance -- last year, I got off to a great start -- I ran three times a week through January and February and into early March. Then I got sick. Sicker than sick. Sickety, sick, sick, sick, with ungodly amounts of snot and phlegm and aches and coughing and oh, that seriously sucked. And it knocked me out of my running almost-habit and here I sit, almost a year later, with about 10 extra pounds to show for it. Oh - and a membership at the "Y," which I'm paying for and haven't been using. 

Which reminds me of another goal for which I've been aiming for quite awhile but often seem to miss the mark -- fiscal responsibility. On a positive note there, though, I did cancel my (almost-never-used) Costco membership on Saturday and...much to my surprise, was refunded $110 I hadn't been expecting. So, I'm going to take that as a good sign and set my sights on building from there. Fact is, we're already over 9 hours into the new year and I've not yet spent a dime. So maybe there's hope for me yet!

As hinted above, there were some positives from last year's list. For example, I did a much better job of setting the phone down while driving. Not going to claim I was perfect on that front, but significantly improved. (Now if I could just convince my fellow commuters to join me in that endeavor!) 

I improved my work habits, which involved working harder, but also working smarter, and that paid off not only in terms of income but also outcome -- and funnily enough, an improved stress level. I have rewarded myself for such by prettifying my office. I don't care if people tease me about the glowing Himalayan salt orb on my desk - it's fun and colorful and makes me smile. Same goes for the burbling mini-fountain and the Scentsy burners. And don't even get me started on all the fun little "See Jane Work" desk accessories and my color-coded system of paper clips, binder clips, folders, and pens. (Yeah - if I'm going to improve on the fiscal responsibility front, I probably need to steer clear of office supply stores.) 

Best of all, in the fall, I returned to church after slacking off in that department for too many months. I adore my church. And I'm a stronger, saner, more serene person when I'm dialed into it and my faith. Which helps everything else fall into place. Funny how that works.

As always, I'm a work in progress -- and profoundly grateful for the people in my life who love me in spite of that. So, here's to 2018, and the hope that my first post of next year will find me reflecting on this one warmly. *Cheers*