Just a Nice Story
I tried to think of a justification for posting this, but I don't have one--other than that it is a lovely heart-warming (but not heart-breaking) story. Here is the start and then a link; if you read it, you will continue your day with a glow.
Making a Judgment on Love
By LLOYD ZIMMERMAN
THE call came around 3:30 p.m. on a sultry Minnesota day. The hospice social worker, Cheryl, explained the situation in a rush. She had tried 15 judges, and all were either in court or otherwise unavailable. By chance, she had reached me directly.
I had just finished a tough trial and was in my chambers surrounded by judicial detritus: legal briefs, scores of exhibits. This was the sanctuary where I went to nurse my wounds after a day of inhaling other people's problems: name-calling; failed relationships; poor judgments made by people sometimes young, sometimes old, usually emotional. To be honest, I almost didn't answer the phone.
The protracted and petty legal combat I had just suffered through was a case that should have been settled but for bad blood in a family relationship. I'd survived, presiding over a trial that was neither great nor good. It was done, but it was not my proudest moment as a judge. My day of emergencies had followed weeks of emergencies that had not been broken up by a vacation. I felt like putting one of those bumper stickers on my door that read: "Your poor planning is not my emergency."
All I wanted was a drink.
That, however, would be considered poor decorum for a judge, and judges lose their jobs over poor decorum. I have a wife and two children. So I tried to shake off my grumpiness and be civil to Cheryl. I asked in my calmest, most Oliver Wendell Holmes voice what I could do for her.
She said she needed a judge to perform an emergency wedding.