It has been one hell of a week. The Missus left yesterday to spend an extra-long weekend with the Colorado branch of the family business. Work has been, well, busy (an admitted understatement) as I have been preparing three cases for trial this month.
Work is what I do so busy times at work are nothing new and frankly, when I made the decision to go to law school a lifetime ago, I knew what the job entailed. The hellacious aspect of this week has not come from work, it has come from disappointments in the non-work areas of my day-to-day, specifically The Many Saints of Newark and the New York Yankees' playoff disaster, the viewing of each made me want to vomit in my own mouth.
But then, everything changed.
A great, long-time friend sent me a text message telling me that a genuinely good human being with whom we had both attended W-H a lifetime ago, and with whom I had reconnected only recently, had suddenly died. Mark Petrocelli was a man who never did another human a bad turn. It was behavior of which, I believe, he was simply incapable. It is a cliche to say of someone after he has died that he was universally loved. In Mark's case, it was not a cliche. It was the truth.
Having died far too young, he leaves behind two kids, one of whom is a freshman in college and the other a junior in high school. It is a situation that is beyond sad. Far beyond it as a matter of fact.
Bad movies are bad movies, even when they are not simply bad but atrocious. Disappointing baseball teams are just that - a disappointment. In the larger scheme of things, neither is particularly important.
-AK
I am sorry.
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