My Case for Initiative 42 (The Sky Really Isn't Falling)

There is little in the entirety of my life – yea, short of my faith in Jesus Christ, I dare say nothing – that I have ever supported and believed in as much as I support and believe in public education. I spent twelve years in Mississippi public schools, followed by four more years in MS public higher education. My father spent that much or more as a public school educator, later going on to become the President of the local school board, followed by a stint on an advisory committee to the state Board of Education. My son is in his 6^th year of Mississippi public schools; my continued residence in Oxford is premised in large part on the quality of the public education system. But even deeper than my own and my family’s participation, I’ve always held a deep-seated belief that the very foundation of our free society depended upon the public education system, the idea that it is there for our consumption, and the knowledge that our abandonment of it would ultimately destroy it and the future it promised for every citizen.

That belief could encompass its own dissertation, but for today, it is the reason that I have dedicated many hours, days, weeks, studying the potential of amending our state Constitution for education’s sake through Initiative 42. My study has been independent of political influence, but rather is based on the text of the Initiative(s) (42 and 42A), the text of the MS Constitution, my own legal education, and the facts and history of our current (and past) legislative bodies, as documented in the public record. In other words, I didn’t just go take talking points from the “pro42” and “anti42” webpages as the basis of my opinions; I have done my own homework and put together my own position.

My desire is to address the concerns and misconceptions that I have seen voiced, as well as issues that seem important to my understanding. I hope to do this in language that every voter can read and understand, because I believe that confusion and rhetoric are currently ruling the day.

Before I delve into the issues, one at a time, a few preliminary matters of importance:

• This is NOT a partisan issue. I have friends on both sides of the aisle who support, and friends on both side of the aisle who oppose. In addition, the MS Legislature has failed to fund the Mississippi Adequate Education Program (MAEP) during both Republican AND Democrat reign. Rather, this is (quite sadly) a POLITICAL matter. Politicians of all variety putting their own projects and/or the projects of their backers in a place of higher importance than our children and the future of our State.
• Initiative 42 was sponsored by Luther Munford. Luther has undergraduate degrees from Princeton and Oxford (England) University and a law degree from the University of Virginia. Before returning to Mississippi to devote his life to the practice of law in our state (almost 40 years, to-date), he clerked for the United States Supreme Court and the United States Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit (the federal appeals court that covers the state of MS, along with LA and TX). He is not only a brilliant attorney; he is a very thoughtful and articulate one as well. There are few people, if any, whom I would choose over Luther in drafting such an important initiative.
•  I have said this before, and I will reiterate. I wish that this was not an issue. I wish that the lawmakers in our state would follow their own law (MAEP), passed by them in 1997. However, in the past 18 years, that has only been done twice. Which brings us to today. My very fervent hope, despite whatever becomes of Initiative 42, is that each of us will more carefully select our Senators and Representatives going forward, and that we will put into office those individuals who realize that funding education is the springboard from which all great things in our state will come.

The push by proponents and supporters of Initiative 42 is to “fully fund education.” And of course, who wouldn’t want to do that, right? (Don’t answer that.) However, the opponents are quick to point out that the proposed language of the amendment to the MS Constitution mentions neither funding nor MAEP. THIS IS TRUE.  This is by no means, however, a deal-killer. Have you ever read the MS Constitution? I mean, the whole thing, beginning to end? I’ll be honest. I’m pretty sure I had not before last month, even through three years of law school. But I have done so several times recently. If you’re interested, you may find the full text of it here. My point is this: the Constitution makes big-picture provisions. In general, it doesn’t mention specific laws or state programs. There is a reason for that: the Constitution leaves to the Legislature the ability to enact (and repeal) laws that will fulfill the objective of the Constitution. When that provision is enforced in a court of law, the judge can look to the "framework language", the MAEP itself, or any other "clues" that might help them to interpret and enforce the law. Judges do this every day, with every statute or constitutional provision that is interpreted. 

So what does this mean? In sum, it means this: It is not unusual at all that the language of the amendment doesn’t mention funding MAEP. The language proposed by Initiative 42:

Section 201: Educational opportunity for public school children

To protect each child's fundamental right to educational opportunity, the State shall provide for the establishment, maintenance and support of an adequate and efficient system of free public schools. The chancery courts of this State shall have the power to enforce this section with appropriate injunctive relief.

This amendment simply mandates that the State provide an “adequate and efficient” public school system. Not exceptional, but adequate. Something that we would expect would already be mandated, no? Many other (higher-ranking-in-education) states already do so in their constitutions. In Georgia, "The provision of an adequate public education for the citizens shall be a primary obligation of the State of Georgia". In Florida, "It is, therefore, a paramount duty of the state to make adequate provision for the education of all children residing within its borders. Adequate provision shall be made by law for a uniform, efficient, safe, secure, and high quality system of free public schools that allows students to obtain a high quality education". Idaho requires that it shall be the "duty of the legislature of Idaho to establish and maintain a general, uniform and thorough system of public, free common schools." In Montana, "Equality of educational opportunity is guaranteed to each person of the state."

You can read all 50 states' language here.

But, this allows for a chancery court to enforce, right? Yes. However, this isn’t the judicial power grab that the Chicken Littles are fretting over. Although the amendment itself doesn’t specify what “adequate and efficient” means, the framework submitted with the Initiative language, coupled with the current law (MAEP) provide a chancery judge with more than enough information from which to make an appropriate ruling. In other words, the judge can look at the law already passed, and the wording submitted with the Initiative to determine whether the Legislature is doing what they are supposed to be doing.  Injunctive relief, by its very definition, simply orders a party to do that which it is already required to do (for example, in this instance, requiring the legislature to fully fund education, as they ordered themselves to do under MAEP in 1997).

Just today, I heard Governor Bryant say that Initiative 42 would “take power away from elected officials in the House and in the Senate and give it to a judge in Hinds County.” This is simply not true. The Legislature enacted a law in 1997 (MAEP) that ordered them to do a particular act (fully fund education). Initiative 42 simply holds them accountable for following the law that they enacted. A Constitutional amendment in no way takes legislative power away from elected officials; the House and Senate are still fully empowered to make and pass laws to comply with the Constitutional requirement that they provide an “adequate and efficient” system of public education. In addition to the power of enacting and enforcing laws, they also have the power (and will still have the power under Initiative 42) to repeal any law that they feel is not a viable solution for provision of an “adequate and efficient” educational system. Thus, any argument that “MAEP is just not a viable piece of legislation” is easily remedied by repealing (and/or amending) that legislation.

Lots of folks are concerned that this “liberal Judge in Hinds County” will make all sorts of crazy rulings: taking money from Oxford and sending it to Mantachie, sua sponte consolidating Hattiesburg and Oak Grove school districts, etc. Y’all. Come on. When did we get to the point that we truly believe elected Judges wholly abandon their duties and oaths for some crazy agenda? Not only are these fears unreasonable, they are offensive to our judiciary. In the first instance, there are four chancellors in Hinds County. Random case assignments dictate that any of those four might be assigned a particular case. IF, and that is a huge IF, a particular judge assigned decides to “go rogue” and not only order something other than pure injunctive relief (as dictated by the Constitution), but begin to create law on his/her own, that decision would most certainly be appealed to the Mississippi Supreme Court, a body of (at least for now, rather conservative) judges elected from all corners of the state.

Additionally, many of the naysayers are convinced that Initiative 42 will serve only to pad the pockets of the trial lawyers. If anything, the proposed language restricts that. As stated in the language, the amendment vests jurisdiction in the chancery court to enforce with injunctive relief. I’ve never known a lawyer to get rich by practicing in chancery court. The MS Trial Lawyers Association has not given a penny to the campaign to adopt Initiative 42. Trial lawyers, in general, get rich from the deep pockets of corporate defendants, and usually as a result of punitive damages assessed to those deep pockets. There are no deep pockets here, nor are there punitive damages in a case such as this. There will be no lawyers getting rich off of a case pleading our elected officials to follow the law.

In addition, the right to sue the legislature to fully fund education was not created with Initiative 42! In 2014, Ronnie Musgrove filed a lawsuit on behalf of 14 MS school districts requesting a chancery court require the legislature to fully fund MAEP. Unlike the framework provided with I42, which suggests a 10-year phase in of funding, that lawsuit, if it had resulted in a favorable ruling to the school districts, would have required immediate full funding of MAEP, producing a much harsher result for our state coffers.

And finally, (and most importantly to me personally), let’s talk about where this money is coming from. Many people are concerned that funding education will detract from other things. This is absolutely true. For a few years, some matters may get less funding than they have in the past. Many of those matters (like education, should 42 be adopted), have protection in the Constitution. Those things will not be underfunded to the point of failure. Even more of those matters, however, are the projects of those who hope to defeat 42. Tax breaks for corporations, business incentives, agendas that fund their reelections. These aren’t bad people; they don’t hate our schoolchildren or want our schools to fail; they just believe that the status quo is acceptable. I disagree.

I firmly believe (and this is played out in other communities around our country) that if we concentrate on improving our public school system, the economy, the job market, the things that matter will follow suit. I believe that there are very few ills that cannot be cured with a more valuable education.

I do agree that “throwing money at a problem” is not always the best solution. I’ve seen the materials discussing per-student spending, and rankings, and their correlation. I agree that there are teachers and administrators who just do not care, and all the extra money in the world probably won’t change that. BUT: for every teacher or administrator that “doesn’t care”, there are a half dozen or more who are buying supplies out of their own pockets, emailing parents at 9pm because they are concerned about a kid who had a bad day, asking their friends and colleagues on Facebook for help on how to explain a term paper without an appropriate library and no internet access for students. These are the heroes and the sufferers. If we want to attract more heroes, we have to SHOW them that we care.  Our legislators are our voice to the outside world; if they show the world that education is the paramount concern, that teachers are more important than tax breaks, and children are more valuable than corporations, it will only attract the educators and administrators who are like-minded.

It is easy, but remarkably short-sighted and Pollyanna-ish, to suggest that we should just replace our representatives. But 18 years shows that isn’t as easy of a fix as it seems. As long as there are politicians, there will always be politics. Our politicians need to be held accountable, just as you and I are held accountable for following the law every day. I implore you to vote for folks who will support public education and remove any need for lawsuits or constitutional amendments. But in the meantime, the clear choice for our future is to APPROVE and CHOOSE 42!

Summer Camp

Last June, just a few weeks after he had finished second grade, I picked my son up from his first stint at Alpine Camp for Boys. It wasn't his first overnight camping experience -- he had been attending overnight camps, beginning at Twin Lakes Camp outside of Jackson, Mississippi, since he was five! But when I picked him up from Junior Camp at Alpine, donning his t-shirt bearing the logo "Alpine Camp for Boys  -- Summer 2015", he announced "Mom, I pre-registered for full-term next summer!" That was 26 days of camp. 26 days. And a lot of money.

GULP.

DOUBLE GULP.

My first thought was: There is no way I'm going to be able to afford that. Junior camp had been a stretch, but my parents, having paid the tuition of each of my nephews for one summer of Junior term at Alpine, had agreed to pay for Gates to go, too. But the charity ended there, and I knew it. I was (am) a single mom, grateful to have very few expenses and very little debt, but bartending my way through, making ends meet. And it is not exactly an inexpensive summer camp. In the nine months that followed, I avoided any conversation that remotely echoed of camp. I was so afraid Gates was going to ask about it, and I wasn't going to know how to tell him that I wasn't sure I could afford it.

But despite my fears, I guess Gates's hopes and prayers were enough. March rolled around, and I had squirreled away some money, coupled with an income tax refund that was headed my way, and agreement from grandparents for a *small* amount of help, and I realized I may be able to swing camp. It would mean that there would be no other summer activities -- none of the day camps or lessons or quick trips that he was accustomed to -- but we both agreed that it was how Gates should spend his summer. Even after the initial registration and commitment, I made several proffers to exchange camp for vacations, swim club memberships, etc. All were met with immediate declination. Gates was going to second-term at Alpine, and he couldn't be more excited.

**At this point, let me say, he didn't know a soul that would be there. The only local boys that we knew who attended Alpine were going for the first term. He would be going to camp for 26 days without knowing another person there. He couldn't care less, and though I knew he would be fine, my apprehension increased as the camp date drew near.**

All I had heard was how Alpine was the greatest place on earth. I had no first- (or even second-) hand knowledge of this, but it was what "they" said. All I could think was how this camp tuition could buy me a car with working air-conditioning, or pay for a beach house for my whole family for a month, or catch me up on some overdue bills, or create a rainy-day fund. But also, in the back of my mind, I kept replaying the issues I had seen with my son over the past year. The difficulties he had with group activities, the frustration he faced when he didn't succeed, the sadness he felt when his quirkiness left him on the outside looking in. And I knew -- I was CERTAIN -- that camp was exactly what he (and all of us) needed.

On July 2, Stephen, Gates and I set out for Fort Payne, AL, where we would spend the night before dropping Gates off the next morning. Getting a good night kiss on Friday was almost as impossible as Gates getting a restful night of sleep. We set out for the Mountain (Lookout Mountain, at the junction of northeast Alabama, northwest Georgia, and southeast Tennessee) early Friday morning, and found a waiting line on a little county road upon our arrival at ten before 8. After much anticipation, the cars started pouring through the camp gates, and we were quickly directed to Eagle's Nest cabin.

Unlike Junior Camp, Gates allowed me to unpack his trunk and help make his bunk. But within a few minutes he was out of sight. The rain had started to come down, and I wasn't sure I was going to find him before it was time to head out. He reappeared briefly to tell us goodbye, and then he was gone.

Let me tell you this right now: If you are considering a long-term summer camp for your son, and you aren't sure it is good for him, or worth the money, let me tell you, Alpine is worth every penny. All five hundred thousand of them. I haven't even picked my kid up from camp yet, I haven't even yet heard his first-hand account, but I know. I know. It is worth every penny.

You see, every day, Glenn and/or Carter, the camp directors, blog about camp. And they take and post hundreds of pictures. The first week, I got an email that my Gates had strep throat, but that he was in the infirmary, on an antibiotic, and had won the hearts of the nurses. And in the first week, he wasn't in a lot of pictures. And I worried. But every day, I read the blog. And every single day -- without fail -- as I read the account of the campers' daily activities, my eyes filled with tears, in awe and appreciation of the goodness, the sheer GOODness, that my son was being filled with. The Godly young men who were giving every second of their summer to build MY son up and show MY son his infinite worth.

The pictures eventually showed up. And judging from what I've seen, he'll come home with a lot of clean shirts and socks; almost every picture I've seen has shown him shirtless in his Chaco's. Being a boy. Doing what boys do. With no expectation.

Every apprehension I ever had, every "I'm not sure I can afford this" and "I'm not sure I should be doing this" that ever crossed my mind is gone. I am certain that I will work doubly hard and do whatever I have to do for the next six years to ensure that Gates returns to Alpine annually for this extra-special dose of God's goodness.

Gratitude, Swimming Upstream, and Bartending (Scratching #22 off the List)

"The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation." - Henry David Thoreau

I didn't participate in that 22days of Thanksgiving thing over on Facebook. Everybody knows I'm thankful for my kid, my family, living in Oxford, the works. I pretty much keep folks over-informed about my levels of gratitude for those basics. Past that, I would either have had to come up with things that made me sound good and feel contrived (and we all know I'm not about to do that) or admit that I'm thankful for things like the new beer law and the fact my kid is finally old enough to be dropped off at birthday parties (oh wait, I think I did admit that one).

Anyway, on Wednesday night, as I began to wind down from a long week of cooking, cleaning, fun with friends, and late nights, and prepare myself for Thanksgiving Day, I began to give some thought to what I was specifically thankful for this year (aside from, of course, the usual suspects). What I eventually settled on was this: I AM THANKFUL FOR THE COURAGE TO SWIM UPSTREAM.

I'm referring, obviously, to my recent job and life change, but also to the ins and outs of my everyday life. This life I live is my own. I don't do things the way most people do things, I do them the way that is best for me and my family...the way that works for us. I get weird looks, raised eyebrows, rude comments, and shrugged shoulders, and this year, especially, I'm thankful that none of those things hinder me in my pursuit of a full life.

In that same vein I'm thankful for two groups of people: those who have encouraged me along the way -- some I have known for 30+ years, some I have known for less than 3, some I've never even met in real life yet have been just as much encouragement through this craziness we call social media. And the even smaller group of folks that -- despite its size -- spans the globe and "gets" me. They appreciate and encourage what most folks don't understand.

All that said, as you all know, I've been working at Buffalo Wild Wings, waiting tables since the first of September. I am happier than I've been in a long time: I look forward to going to work every day, I'm happy when I'm there, when Im not working, I'm there eating or hanging out. Instead of crying on my way to (or at) work, I'm smiling. All the time. And today, I had my first shift as a bartender! If you know me, you know it's always been on my bucket list, so tonight, I got to scratch number 22 off!

The best part of it all? After 8 hours behind the bar, I was getting ready to go home, still smiling, and I looked at my boss and said with complete sincerity: "I've had so much fun today!" That's what it's all about, folks.

Scratching Number 23 off the list (Or, the one where I quit my day job!)

"I don't know what good it is to know so much and be smart as whips and all if it doesn't make you happy." ~ J.D. Salinger

I hate my job. I've hated my job for a long long time. The reasons why are many, with any one of them alone enough to make me miserable. It has escalated to the point that I cry almost every day, either on the way to work, or once I'm there, or often, both. If it weren't for my friends that I have there, I would probably not have lasted 5 years. And unfortunately, my professional angst doesn't stay in the office. I bring my frustrations home, taking them out on a super-perceptive 6 year old. This summer, I started seeing in him the effects of my bringing it all home -- issues that are undoubtedly a result of living with a momma who is chronically angry, sad, frustrated, or some combination thereof -- and frankly, what I began to see terrified me.

So, for the past little while, I've been working through (and mostly discarding) scenarios in which I might be able to quit. I've spent time applying to various jobs -- none of which necessarily appealed to me, but they were "good jobs" nonetheless. Alternatives to where I am and what I'd been doing. The primary two things that I'm seeking are harder to come by than you might expect: I want to use my brain, preferably through legal writing and research, and I want at least *some* autonomy over my schedule. (Example: for two years, all G has wanted -- asked for almost every day -- is to be a "car rider" at school; in my current job, just going two blocks to read a book to his class directly cuts into my ability to go on vacation with him.). At the very best, those aren't qualities that are found in jobs that are acquired in the short term.

What's that you say? Miserable jobs and bad hours and cranky kids are just "life" and I need to suck it up? No. It doesn't have to be life and it isn't going to be MY life. OUR life. Today, I crossed the Rubicon. I jumped off the ledge. Today, I quit my day job.

I have never been one that needed much in the way of material conveniences. Give me a happy kid, a stack of books, some diet coke or some live music and I'm a happy girl. My sister always joked that I could go a week without running water and never notice. The idea of simple living has just always seemed appealing to me. But the idea of the work it might take to make that lifestyle conversion was a bit overwhelming. So I mostly just thought about it or read about it or talked about it and wished that I could get there.

But a few weeks ago, I got a letter from my student loan company saying that they would be debiting my last payment in a few days. That thin sheet of paper slapped me square across the face! It not only meant that my law school education was officially paid for, but it also signified the fact that (aside from my home) I had ZERO debt. No obligations. Nothing chaining me to the miserable existence that many people live their whole lives chained to. A few days later, I just happened to be looking at this stagnant blog, reading through my "Bucket List", and stopped at Number 23: Quit my day job. Right below it was Number 24: Live on a boat. I have a friend who is working really actively right now to change his life so that he and his family can live on a boat for a while. He's also been on my case about doing what it takes to be happy with my life. The two statements in tandem pierced me.

A few details, some good timing, a little bit of rough planning, and a whole lot of thought and prayer later, brings us to today. I quit my job. I'm working on renting out my house so that we can move somewhere more consistent with the lifestyle I've chosen for my immediate future. I have a part-time, non-legal job (not illegal, just non-legal) that will help with the expenses while I work on charting this future for us. Though the stress and pressure may be great as I work through the details, the load I'm carrying is already 10x lighter. My kid is already 10x happier. And that in itself is enough.

I've chuckled to myself all day today (and the last few weeks) at very well-meaning friends and family who say things like: "you'll find a new job soon" or "I'm sure something will turn up" or "why don't you talk to XYZ Co. about a job?". I have worked at a job for 5 years. It came at a very crucial time in my family's life, and I'll be forever grateful for the role it played in our survival. Without that good steady job for the last 5 years, I couldn't do what I'm doing now. But I don't want another job. I want to take advantage of my station in life and seek out and do work that I love, so that I can have a life that I love, so that my son can grow up with the notion that work is a fun thing and not an evil thing, so that he, too, can always have a life that he loves.

Life is way too short to work at a job you despise just to say you have a "good job" and make a few extra bucks. Life is too short to cry, and make your kid cry, just so you can continue doing what everyone else says you should do. I've never been a dreamer; in fact, this is quite likely the least planned out, least practical and by-the-books thing I've ever done. I had a bookmark as an 8 year old that said, "Always read the ending first; life is too uncertain." That me hasn't changed in 30 years. But I've also never been one to believe in sitting around and letting life happen to you.

I've always loved and quoted George Bernard Shaw's words, but it's time to live them: "People are always blaming their circumstances for what they are. I don't believe in circumstances. The people who get on in this world are the people who get up and look for the circumstances they want, and, if they can't find them, they make them."

What Do You Want?

"What do you want?"

I was asked this question last week. Initially, I was at a loss for an answer. I haphazardly said, "I just want a normal life." (Because as everyone knows, my life is far from normal.) But I quickly retracted. "No, I don't," I said. "I had a 'normal' life. I was miserable. I was desperate to break out of it (and I did, without regards to those I hurt along the way)." So I threw around a few other answers that sounded good ("I want to be happy" -- lame. "I want to give my son a fun life." -- who doesn't?), but ultimately, I left that conversation a little bit disturbed, because I had no good answer. I had no idea what I wanted.

And then, on Saturday, in response to a very mundane text message -- that I was going to stay in bed for another hour and then go get a Christmas tree -- a friend said: "Your life is such an adventure." I laughed out loud as he insisted my life was worthy of a reality show. But as I continued to think about it, I realized that the irony, in my mind, is that my life is void of adventure. Over the course of the day, it occurred to me: adventure is exactly what I want. In fact, it is what I crave. The things that make me happy, the fun I want to show my son, the times when I am most comfortable in my own skin can all be concisely described as an adventure.

Since this epiphany, I have been full of mixed emotion. I have felt such satisfaction with the realization that the common denominator uniting all the little things that I strive for is adventure . . . satisfaction in finding an answer to the question. But I've been frustrated with the idea that there is no real adventure in my life. That my life is so predictable. And that I'm not even sure how to create that adventure, especially on a shoestring budget.

But tonight, while talking to the same friend who set this thought process in motion, I told him that I'd thought a lot about his text message. And that I thought it was so ironic because my life actually had no adventure. His reply was something like this: Krisi, I'm not talking about the things you do, but about your outlook on life -- the things you say, the attitude with which you approach life, as if it is one big adventure.

Wow, how that hit me. It doesn't take climbing Machu Picchu or backstage passes to AC/DC or having an exciting conversation with a stranger over coffee or taking a spontaneous 8-hour road trip in the middle of the night to have adventure. It is how I treat the mundane, the attitude that I take every day, that gives it the necessary excitement . . . the punch that's needed to get through the doldrums of life.

Do not be mistaken. I will continue to seek out physical adventure at every turn, but the conversation was a nice, gentle reminder that adventure is an attitude and that, viewed in those terms, my life is indeed an adventure.

**Author's Note** I've been doing a lot of thinking and self-reflection over the past few weeks. I've taken a break from many of the distractions in my life, some easier to break from than others, to focus on where I am and what I'm doing. It is both interesting and frightening the things that you can learn about yourself when you detach from the busy-ness of life and really get quiet. This may (or may not) be the first in a series of posts about what I am discovering. 

"A day I will never forget..."

"Oh, thats a day I will never forget." As I child, I vividly remember my mother using that phrase from time to time and wondering how in the world any day could be so memorable that it would never be forgotten. I usually couldn't remember what I ate for lunch on a given day (and oftentimes still can't), so the thought of remembering an entire day for the rest of my life was incomprehensible.

Obviously, in the years that followed, I would come to understand the meaning of that phrase, in many instances, wishing I could have maintained the naivete that accompanied my childhood. Today, at likely the same age my mother was in the first days I remember her uttering those words, I recall a number of days that I will never forget.  I remember the very first time I had that feeling -- I was probably 6 or 7, at a local art fest, and had found a craft that I just *knew* my mother would love. I grabbed it and ran off to show her, only to be apprehended by an over-zealous police officer with the words "you're under arrest." My heart stopped, and immediately realizing what I had done, I threw the object at him & took off running, also realizing quickly thereafter that he was likely only trying to frighten me.  But of all the days, both good and bad, one comes painfully back to mind every October 17...

October 17, 2002 - A Thursday night, I was at my house in Clinton, Mississippi, when my phone rang. Molly Walker was calling -- just a few hours after I had left her house to drop off an edit of a law journal article she had written -- to tell me that my best friend, William Gates, was dead. "Krisi, it's Molly," she said.  "I have some bad news. William was killed in a car accident tonight." Even as I sit here typing, my chest is getting tight, remembering how I physically collapsed  upon hearing those words. Immediately replaying that day's events in my mind... trying to call him with no answer several times on my way home from Molly's, wondering where he was and why he wasn't answering... And the last time I had seen him... the previous afternoon, we met on the street corner outside my office to exchange a VCR tape containing episodes of Ed that I had recorded for him. He wanted to catch up before the new episode that night. (In law school, we watched it together every week.) The absolute agony I felt that night, and in the ensuing days, is no less strong today than it was eight years ago. Not only will I never forget the events of that day, I will never forget the feeling.

I wanted to describe all the things that William was. But I am at a loss. The best I can say is that he was my best friend. He was my voice of reason, my sounding board. He let me be a compete dork (I carried around a random stick the entire exam season my fourth semester of law school), he fed my neuroses (he sat in front of me wearing a green Masters hat during every exam, and even went home to get it once when he wore the wrong one), but most of all he kept me in line.

I will never forget, the summer of 2001, we were both clerking in Nashville. I called him late one night, fretting about a boy who was not my husband. He asked me to meet him for brunch at Noshville the next day, which I did. William was a jokester, hardly ever serious. But he looked at me very seriously over eggs benedict and said "Krisi, PJ is your husband. It shouldn't even be necessary for us to have this conversation." I respected him so much, respected his opinion, respected his advice, that I immediately tucked my elementary feelings away, and slid back into my corner. Embarrassed, in fact, that we were indeed having the conversation.

I remember that day often. And in the past eight years, as I've thought about William, I've thought about that conversation. I've often wondered about similar conversations we might have had, had he been alive. I have NO doubt that he would adore his little namesake, were he alive to know him. But I have to wonder, had he been around, would things have been different? Would one of his few "serious" conversations have prevented any of my many (mis)steps along the way? 

Sorrowful & thankful at the same time, I'll never know the answer to those questions. Instead I will pursue this life, hopeful that I can raise little Gates to be the kind of friend big Gates was to me.

Scratching Number 15 off the list (VIDEO)