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I am the son of a graduate of Stanford Law School. My dad retired as a senior staff attorney for the 5th Circuit Court of Appeals. I remember at his retirement dinner, the senior judge spoke, and said that if my dad had a few more years to go in his career, no doubt he would have been appointed a judge.

Now I know that some people have a dim view of lawyers. There are hundreds of lawyer jokes that degrade the profession. Having been raised in a lawyer's home, and knowing my dad, I never understood why people felt that way about lawyers. I remember there was a day when he quit a law firm because they suggested that he use some influence he had to get some inside information to help a client. Well, my dad's principles were not for sale so he quit the law firm and started his private practice, which was never much of a success because he was too tender hearted, he didn't have the heart to charge what he could have, and should have, for his services. That's when he was offered first of all, a job with the Superior Court, and then the Appellate Court.

I remember the day I saw my dad's name listed in the classifieds under 'fictitious names'. I didn't have the slightest clue what that meant, but my suspicion was that the word fictitious', was something less than honorable, and I remember how much that hurt my dad, that I would think he would have anything to do with anything less than honorable. I knew then that day, that my dad was totally true blue. In my eyes, he was a success, he had made it. Not particularly monetarily, but in my eyes, he had made it; he was a success.

And then we come to the next generation, and that is I.

I, who was the bane of the family. I, who graduated from continuation high school only because I was forced to because I was on house arrest until I turned eighteen. I who lasted 2 weeks in college before I quit. Instead of going to college I tuned in, turned on and dropped out. At least that what I told myself I was doing. In reality I took the lazy way out.

But I did come to myself. When I did, my first job was at the bottom of the rung, as a bus boy at Sambo's Restaurant. I remember sleeping on the hardwood floor of a friend's house, waking up early in the morning to RUN to work. I hitch hiked, but if I didn't get a ride, at least I'd get there on time if I ran. If I got a ride, then I'd have time to eat breakfast before I started work. I loved eating there. I weighed 123 lbs... I was so skinny that you couldn't see me if I turned sideways.

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