The LOOK!

I’m treading on shaky ground with my wife. There’s a party for one of her friends this weekend and I’ve been warned in no uncertain terms to be friendly to the friend’s husband.

“Don’t give him the look,” she says.

I chuckle and plead ignorance, but I know what she’s talking about. Those of you who know me well probably have trouble picturing me being mean to anyone. At the height of my boxing prowess, when I was knocking out other amateur heavyweights, a female friend told me that I looked like a big skinny teddy bear. The years have taken care of the skinny part…, but something of the teddy bear image remains. Even my friend Louie, who has known me since the college days, says that he can’t quite picture me mad.

Still, there are times, when the teddy bear turns into a little bit of a grizzly bear. This is when the look comes into play. What is the Look? It’s something that goes back to the primitive side of male machismo, common in the streets and assorted correctional facilities of our community. It’s simple in action, just a direct, narrow stare that you hold for longer than normal. If done correctly, it signals to the other guy that he’s in danger of physical harm if he keeps…say…eating all the nachos. If done incorrectly, it might result in an unwanted date..

I find that the look is an old bear’s way of dealing with problems. Where before I might have had to take some action, now I find that just a general warning is enough. Especially if you are dealing with a guy much smaller than you! I gave the friend’s husband a warning with a look when he tried to take the seat next to my wife. In younger days, I might have thrown him out of the seat.

At least that’s what I tell my wife when I defend my behavior: “Hey, at least, I saved the guy some hospital bills!” My wife just rolls her eyes and looks at me.

Now that’s an intimidating Look!

Politics!

Once upon a time, I was pretty active in politics. Blame it on my environment maybe. I was a student at UC Berkeley and got caught up in some of the idealism. I became president of my housing association, became involved in a number of clubs, ran for local office and served on a few boards and commissions. A local paper called me the "dynamic voice" of the student community. Sometimes being a student felt like my side job!

Fast forward several years into my post college life and there’s very little politics in my life. There are no campaign posters with my face on them. I no longer walk precincts for my favorite candidates. The most controversial group I belong to is my local Kiwanis club, which is about as controversial as stopping at a red light. Some would argue that my work is political, but they’d be wrong. I may beat the system from time to time, but it’s on behalf of a single person’s rights- my client at the time. My cases aren’t crusades. They are about protecting my client’s rights in the face of whatever opposition, be it the DA’s office, Immigration…or just an unreasonable ex-spouse!

And, yet, sometimes I miss working for the larger cause. I wish I could find time to picket against something or walk a precinct. One of my favorite politicians, Mary Salas- whose first campaign I volunteered for when I was a student, lost her race by a handful of votes. I know that I could have made a difference in her campaign- if only by marshaling my many contacts in Imperial County to turn out her support. A good volunteer is worth a swing of a few hundred votes. I felt a twinge of guilt when she lost, but I told myself that I was honestly too busy with building my law practice to give a good effort on her behalf.

Life always seems to get in the way of my politics. The other day I almost went to meeting to organize against the Arizona immigration action, but I ended up at the gym instead. Leading the fight against my expanding waistline! And I mean to contribute money to help out someday, but most of pennies seem to have bills waiting for them.

I honestly don’t know when I’ll get involved again, but I admire and appreciate people like my niece Gloria (who fought against the closure of the Chula Vista nature center) and my cousin Cecilia (who is a big time activist in LA). Who knows, maybe someday soon I’ll be walking the picket line with them.

Viva la Causa! Just let me know which one…

A dizzy moment

I felt dizzy this morning. It brought the mind the feeling that I felt once when I was punched in the side of the head. A sort of instinct takes over. In the fight, strategy went out the window. I raised my guard, shuffled my feet and bought time for my head to clear. While my feet danced me around the boxing ring, my slow brain wondered what had happened. It took a moment to snap back to reality. That’s the way I felt this morning as I drove from a meeting to my office. I took a deep breath at a stop light and thought about pulling over, but then I drove on to the work that was waiting for me at my office. I took out my kit to measure my blood sugar, but in preparing for client meetings and working on cases, I didn’t actually test my blood until the afternoon. The blood sugar was normal by then and the crisis had passed.

But sometimes I think life is a lot like boxing. You sometimes don’t have a lot of time to sit back and reflect on what is happening. We are in the ring with our challenges and sometimes we get hit. Just take a quick breath and hit back. I won the boxing match years ago. Life remains a constant and happy battle.