Remembering things as they were...

Memory is a funny thing. Sometimes I remember things not as they happened, but as I perceived them. My emotions fill in a color and texture to the memories that make the memories not completely accurate.

Take the Black Angus restaurant, for instance. It's your run of the mill steak house complete with coupons in the Sunday paper. Yet, when I remember going there with my parents as a child, I remember it as one the fanciest restaurants imaginable- the cloth napkins, the huge steaks and all the rich people eating there. I remember thinking that I had to be on my best behavior, and, yet, being not quite successful in eating neatly! Logic tells me that the biggest steak was 6 ounces and that no one rich is likely to go there, but I still think of Black Angus with all the excitement of the seven year boy who was going to eat a steak the size of my plate.

Even today, when I take friends out for special occasions, I find myself drifting more often than not to the Black Angus.

"Forget Ruth Chris. I know a great steak place," I'll say...

The same principle probably applies to my "career" as a fighter and a boxer. One of my more vivid (and faulty memories) is that of me fighting a gang of East L.A. gang members when I was a freshman in college. I was visiting a friend in LA, when I had an altercation with her ex-boyfriend. In response to being told that I was a member of the UC Berkeley boxing club team, the ex-boyfriend and two tattoed friends decided to show me how gang initiations took place. No, the initiations did not involve milk and cookies and a secret password. Instead, they jumped me in the park and tried to beat me like a drum. It was me against the three of them, but I managed to break the ex-boyfriend's nose and his friends backed away, scared, no doubt by my prowess.

The reality was pretty different than my perception. The guys weren't gang members- just a group of relatively short and out of shape guys. And I was 6'2" and in my absolute prime. I was in the boxing club in the University, lived in the weight room and didn't have to watch my diet for another decade. So, nineteen year old me against the East LA dwarfs? Not a problem. Forty year old me against three people of any size or age? Let me get my Smith and Wesson..

It makes me wonder what things from today will become "legendary" feats by the time I'm older and remembering those glory days. No doubt it'll be some court exploit that in the retelling became a battle before the supreme court.

"They handled divorce cases in the Supreme Court?" I can hear someone in the future asking.

"Damn right, they did. Now those were the days...."

Ray Ray- the soundtrack!

Ever wish that your life came with a soundtrack? In the classic movie, I'M GONNA GIT U SUCKA, a band followed the hero, playing "New Jack City."

In my life, I think I'd need an MP3 player with a huge memory and an eclectic collection. One song wouldn't be enough. Sometimes, fresh off a court victory, I imagine the eye of the tiger playing as I strut down the street- though it might look funny to see an overly healthy 6'2" man strutting to anything but maybe some circus clown music. Other times, the song would be Elmore Leonard's "The Sky is Crying" or Robert Cray’s “I think I showed her.” It’s weird, but blues songs about losing everything sometimes fit my mood, though I’ve never lost everything (I did lose a cell phone once) and am generally upbeat. I guess this would make me a blues “poser.” I do take my loses with a touch of humor, just like the narrator in Cray’s song who showed his woman what’s up, by ending up in the cheap motel room while she kept the house.

But the place where the music really plays a role in my life is in flashbacks. Music reminds me of yesterday’s moments like little else. I hear Gloria Gaynor sing and I remember every breakup that I ever had. I will survive! I play Marvin Gaye and suddenly I'm the suave undergraduate would be Romeo, with a jumbo bottle of Obsession cologne, a bad haircut and a hopeful smile. Certain songs hit the radio and I remember a flash of pain, like John Secada’s another day without you- a song that I heard for the first time in Spanish shortly before a breakup.

On a non-romantic level, there are songs that remind me of family. Leo Sayer’s sings “when I need you” and it reminds me of my parents, who went away for business, but would always come back when I needed them. Jose Jose, El Puma and a few other old singers make me think of my siblings, who are each a decade older than me and would play the music ad nauseum.

So, if music were to be a soundtrack to my life, I’d need a library full of tunes. I think we all would.

The Crew

Picture the scene. The streets of Berkeley on a Friday night in the 90’s. A tie dyed mix of Berkeley residents, homeless activists and students walking in an out of coffee shops, street stands and the small restaurants that dotted Telegraph Boulevard. There’s an almost 60’s hippie vibe. Suddenly, a group of tall and dark young men appears among the hubbub. The hair is slicked back, the shirts are night club flashy and the smiles are confident. Berkeley meet South San Diego. We looked like five Latin princes among the hippies- Jose, Louie, Gabe, Israel and myself. What followed was certainly a night to remember…though time and alcohol have dulled some of the memories. I remember a couple house parties, a night club and a night of much cheap beer, loud music and laughter.

Time marches to a funny beat, sometimes. Twenty years later, three of us are still friends, but the athletic and confident princes of the party scene have become the middle aged Kings of the comfortable bar stool. I can’t say for sure that any of us reached the starry dreams that we held as young men, but we've each carved out a life for ourselves. Jose has the American package- a marriage, kids and a mortgage. The fan of Pink Floyd’s the wall, has become, shudder, a school teacher (though he thinks about changing careers). Louie, who sported a bandana throughout much of undergrad, has a son now and also works for the school district. I have my law practice, a wife and two kittens. Our crew is rounded out by a couple of parking enforcement officers, Ruben and Ray.

As we head down to Tijuana for a “boys night out,” we cram into Louie’s SUV and probably look little like the group that partied our way through many a weekend in college.

But, a few tequilas later, we are laughing as if time had never passed. Louie is as crazy as ever, having replaced his signature bandana with a captain’s hat. Jose is still the same clown that he always was, quick with a joke and quicker with a laugh. He laughs so much that I almost think he won’t be able to breath. The new friend (new being relative, as we’ve known Ruben for over a decade) adds his own jokes and suddenly we’re all laughing much more than we’re breathing.

I take a small sip of tequila in silent toast to the younger me and then down the rest of the tequila in a toast to the me to come. Twenty years from now I may remember today as the glory days, but I’ll be wrong. Whenever you are. Wherever you are. That’s your time to cherish. We remember the past, prepare for the future, but live in glorious today. Cheers!

Cats

My home, my castle, has been overrun by two new residents- a couple of crazy kittens from an animal rescue organization. They’ve turned the house upside down, breaking vases, spilling flowers and attempting to claw my wife’s beautiful sofas. Yet, they are adored by even my wife’s normally taciturn sister. She is normally quiet, but the other day I heard her animatedly chatting.

“Oh..little kitties. Do you want to go outside? Would you like some food?” I think the cats have a new servant…

My wife and I think that the cats may have been scarves in a past life, because they love to sleep wrapped around our necks. Sometimes I think they were slippers, because I wake up with them on my feet. The other day one of the slippers bit my big toe! When I asked him what the deal was, he looked at me with an innocent, but blank stare. “Meow?”

Needless to say, they've won a place in both of our hearts. The fancy interior decor now includes a tall cat scratching stand and the carpet is littered with cat toys. Their favorite toy? It was the box that the scratching stand came in!

We haven't decided what to name the cats, though the name "loco" comes to mind for the grey cat, who spends much of his time randomly running up and down the stairs. The cat version of a stairmaster? The black cat I wanted to name after my friend Serna because he's both small and sneaky, but the wife likes the name "Blackie", which I guess describes his jet black appearance. When it's dark, you can only see a pair of eyes and hear the purring of the little cat. Moments later..he attacks your big toe!

Blackie and Loco. The two new kings of the castle.

A happy life

I was in Court the other day and the topic of depression came up. Opposing counsel, scoffing at my client's claims, said the following:

"Depression? I've been depressed for decades. Keep a bottle of pills in my suitcase." He had a smirk on his face, but his eyes avoided mine.

"You may need them after this case," I said in the spur of the moment. Then I went on to argue why my client deserved everything she was asking for.

Later on the words came back to me and a I reflected on how...well, how sad it is to be depressed for decades. It embarrassed me to think that I'll treat myself to a good lunch or a movie after a bad morning. I don't know how I'd react after a bad decade!

An ex-girlfriend used to say that I woke up every morning and thanked God that I was still me. She didn't exactly mean it as a compliment, but I do feel somewhat lucky to have the people that I do in my life.

If you know me, one of the things that you notice almost right away is how often I am smiling or laughing.

I do my best to enjoy my life and it saddens me to know that there are many people out there who can't, or for whatever reason, won't pursue their happiness with the same passion.

What's the secret to happiness? I think it's simply to find the things that you enjoy and to fill your life with them. Each day is filled with at least 16 waking hours- make sure that these hours are filled with people that you like and, to the extent possible, activities that you like. (Caveat: if you like hitting smiley lawyers in the gut, please don't!)

Don't let other people's standards apply to you. I have a very good friend that is happy driving the bus and watching tv. It's almost impossible to get him out of his routine.

As for me, I enjoy waking up to practice law. I enjoy being in Court and doing my best to solve what are usually the most important crisis in my client's lives (a divorce, an arrest...). I love the fact that I can work with my wife and I've surrounded myself with staff that I enjoy being around. Outside of work, I have a relatively close family and friends that have been close for so long that they are practically family.

How can you be happy (if you're not)? Thinking back to the times, events, people and activities that make you happy is a good start. As humans, we're not that complicated. If your favorite thing is riding your bike, do it as often as you can.

If you want a further tip, may I suggest doing something to make someone else happy. Sometimes helping others really is helping ourselves.

** afterthought ** I regret to say that I probably added to the depressed lawyer's bad decade- he didn't do well in Court. However, I did leave the Courtroom smiling...