Defending My Secretary

My secretary is a wonderful woman of a certain age named Marie Flynn, who supplements her social security income by doing my typing.  My good friend Doug Dougherty told me many years ago, that if you want to be a successful lawyer, take care of your secretary first.  I have tried to take that advice to heart.  

A few months ago, Ms. Flynn told me she was completely puzzled by a letter she received from someone she’d never heard of before.  I glanced at it briefly and it seemed to be in the tone of “Hi there, how are you, you’re so wonderful I would love to hear from, etc. etc. etc.” I was just as puzzled as she until I examined the envelope and noticed that the return address included a *six* digit number. It then dawned on me that Marie had received a fan letter from a guy doing time in a Maryland prison.  At that point, I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry (I assure one and all that Marie does not make a habit of socializing with convicted criminals).  I IMMEDIATELY dictated a letter to Marie’s would-be suitor informing him that if he ever wrote her again I would pursue both legal action and administrative remedies.  I signed it, including my Ohio Supreme Court registration number.  I then called the prison and notified the corrections officer in charge of the prison’s intelligence section that this guy was trying to scam my secretary.  We have not heard from that convict Casanova since.  

Be advised: no one knows exactly how nasty I can get until you start messing with my secretary.

$40 in Olongapo

Back in December of 1989, I was on board the U.S.S. Leahy when it pulled into Olongapo in the Philippines, so I can say that I have seen, first-hand, exactly what jerks American teenagers can be when they are around young women who are desperate to feed their families.  I abided by the great unwritten law of ships visiting Olongapo: Don't take a camera ashore because somebody might cram it down your throat.  I remember having a Coke at one of the Olongapo bars.  One of the local girls chatted with me and I wound up just giving her a $20 and told her to take the rest of the night off.  The Filipino girls are built like American middle school girls.  I can see being nice to them, but I kept things G-rated.

I did, after all, wind up spending $40 on a gal in Olongapo by the name of Chat Cruz. Some of my readers will rightly suspect I am throwing a curve ball.  I found out she was an unmarried woman with 3 children, so I invited her, her three kids and her mother out to dinner. The tab for a first rate dinner in Olongapo came to $40.  Afterwards, as I walked them home, her youngest — a little boy of about 6 — reached up and caught hold of my little finger as we walked. I couldn't help but wonder how he would cope with his life’s challenges in the years ahead.  Unsurprisingly, nobody ever mentioned anything about those children’s father(s).

The Arkansas Question

My father grew up in Osceola, Arkansas; a county seat town in the extreme northeastern corner of the state.  He once mentioned to me that when he was growing up some of the stores were owned by Jewish families and that one local merchant had a flower bed in the shape in the Star of David.  I did a bit of research on the internet and, while there had been many Jewish families in Mississippi County, there had never been enough of them to organize a synagogue.  My slightly warped sense of humor and equally warped curiosity got the better of me.  I wondered what would be the reaction of a good Jewish family if one of their children was accepted at the University of Arkansas who’s mascot is the razor back hog.  I did some more web surfing and found out that there was a Jewish student association at the University of Arkansas.  I sent that association’s president a very polite email inquiring if they had any problem with the mascot.  I received a very nice reply: “We like cheering for them we just don’t eat them.” I wonder if they qualify as the “kosher hogs?”

John de Lancie

Back in 1974, the BBC put on a 13-part miniseries entitled “The Fall of Eagles,” which described the end of the imperial dynasties of Germany, Austria, Hungary and Russia. 

One of my favorite professors from my days at Ohio State, Alan Beyerchen, appeared on a panel discussion at the local PBS TV station with two other professors, commenting on the episodes.  He told me that he didn’t mind speaking about “The Fall of Eagles,” but he certainly hoped that his and his colleagues’ commentary would not become known as “The Rise of Turkeys.”

One of the best performances on that miniseries was Patrick Stewarts’ depiction of Vladimir Lenin.  I recently watched one of those episodes again and was surprised and amused to see that one of Lenin’s rivals in In one of the pre-revolutionary communist party caucuses was portrayed by John de Lancie, the actor who portrayed Q in Star Trek: The New Generation.  I found myself chuckling, “those two are destined to meet in a different life in a different century.”  

Name Change?

While listening to Congresswoman Sheila Jackson Lee speak, I wonder if I am the only one who thinks she might want to consider changing her name to Sheila Sherman Grant.

Nuclear Pyramid

If someone asked me to complete a cruise on a Soviet-built nuclear submarine, I would reply that Bill Gates and Warren Buffet together do not half the amount of money it would take for me to run that risk.  Not only are catastrophic accidents all too common in the former Soviet submarine fleet, radiation leaks are so common and so severe that the hazardous pay premium that soviet sailors on those vessels receive is properly referred to “childlessness pay.” On the other hand, I had absolutely no problem at all spending two months on board a nuclear powered U.S. Navy vessel.  I taught History and English on board the USS George Washington CVN-73 from July to September, of 1994.  Similarly, I would have no safety concerns whatsoever about riding on an American nuclear sub.  I once asked my brother Bruce if his opposition to nuclear power extended to the nuclear Navy.  When he said, “yes,” I politely asked him if he’d given any thought to the cost of replacing ten Nimitz-class carriers (which go for several billion dollars apiece). He had no response.  The U.S. Navy has commissioned about 190 nuclear submarines and we haven’t lost one since the Scorpion in 1968.  I’d say, “You’re in a whole lot more danger driving on any American highway than you are on a Rickover-designed submarine.” The total number of accident-free reactor years the U.S. Navy has amassed now exceeds 5,000 — a period longer than the pyramids have been standing.

Riot Control

I see that in Russia, a group of women activists protesting against the Putin regime have named themselves “Pussy Riot.”  I think that shows they have a real gift for the dramatic. Some of those women have been in and out of prison and, whatever their political agenda, I cannot begrudge them very considerable physical and moral courage. I hope I don’t sound like a total jerk when I say that, if I heard of group in my neck of woods call “Pussy Riot,” I would first find out what they wanted and then do just about anything to make them happy.