Staying sane in law school
Reading and writing have been lifelong pursuits. They still are, as evidenced by what you’re now reading. But other hobbies have come and gone—then come again.
Law school was stressful for all of us. But for those of us from blue-collar backgrounds, who worked full-time, and who believed top grades were the only way to open doors in our future, I think it was more so.
I kept my sanity in two ways: tennis and music. Tennis was my primary physical outlet. I’d get home from work and law school at about 8:30 p.m. The apartment complex had a lighted tennis court. Several nights a week, after a quick dinner, my then-wife and I would head over to the courts and play for an hour or so before the lights went off at 10 p.m.
And there was my piano—a small studio instrument I kept for more than 30 years. I was self-taught and never that great, but playing was a wonderful way to relax. Fortunately, we lived in an apartment at the end of our building and had very understanding neighbors.
After law school, tennis slowly waned from my activities. But even today, I occasionally pull down my electronic keyboard and play.
Photography has faded
Before law school, I worked on a newspaper, then later a magazine. Photography was part of my job. But as I began a family and practiced law, photography ceased being a job and became my principal hobby. It was the days of Kodak Tri-X, Fujifilm, and of course Kodachrome, which gave such nice bright colors that Paul Simon even wrote a song about it.
On vacations and at holidays, I would burn through 2 or 3 36-shot rolls of film in a single day—a dozen or more on a week-long vacation. It wasn’t cheap. In pre-digital days, that meant buying film and paying for processing and printing—and of course you had to print all your images because you didn’t know how they turned out until you saw the picture.
And the secret to taking great photos, then as now, was to take a lot of them. For decades, my home and office were filled with framed enlargements of my photos.
Digital cameras, then smart phones, changed the nature of photography. People carry their phones everywhere, and “selfies” became a thing. But with my children long since grown and everyone carrying around cameras, including apps that can automatically correct photos and even remove people from the image, the art of photography has lost a bit of its appeal to me.
I still have a 35 mm digital camera and lenses. And I still take photos. But, well, it’s just not the same.
What a ride!
Shortly before I graduated from high school, my youngest brother (but still nine years older than me) came home with a small motorcycle. He offered the chance to ride it. I did. A month later, I bought my own.
There’s something about the freedom of speeding along on two wheels that touches the soul—at least it did with me. As I’ve often said, it’s the most fun you can have with your clothes on. I wasn’t ignorant of the safety statistics, so when it came time to start a family and my career, I gave up my motorcycle. But I never gave up the dream.
When my youngest child was nearing high school graduation, I gave in to the urge and bought another motorcycle. It was one on which I could travel. In the nearly 20 years since, I’ve traveled from Maryland to Colorado, and from Florida and Louisiana to Door County, Wisconsin, and the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.
When I was still practicing, being on my motorcycle brought the peace that comes from what Nietzsche referred to as the nonhistorical mind. In that state, there’s only living in the present moment—nothing before and nothing after. Even though I’m now retired, that time when I’m alone on the bike, just me and the road and the passing world, replenishes the soul.
Not the slot cars of old
For many, retirement offers the opportunity to relive your childhood. My favorite Christmas present when I was a kid was a slot car set. You remember slot cars? Those electric sets with slots in the black plastic track and hand controllers that allowed you to race cars around tracks—often figure 8s.
After I retired, I stumbled on to the slot-car community on social media. And my, how things have changed. These aren’t a bunch of kids playing with small slot-car sets. That still exists. In fact, I bought my granddaughter her first slot-car set with Paw-Patrol cars a couple of Christmases ago.
But the slot-car community I found was adults—many of them near my age. The tracks are elaborate, with fine detailing and scenery. Many are hand-built. The cars are incredible reproductions of real race cars ranging from HO (1:64) to 1:24 scale, although the most common among hobbyists is 1:32 scale, the same size I ran as a kid.
Analog is still common, but digital offers so many features that were unheard of in my long-ago Christmas sets. Digital sets include lane-changing, pit stops, and the ability to run as many as 12 cars competing in two lanes. And computerized systems can track scoring and timing to 0.001 of a second.
Of course, none of this comes at the prices I remember as a kid. Most cars are priced from $65 to $100 each, with some running more than $250. A very basic digital set runs about $400, while customize layouts can run $5,000 and more.
A kid with a credit card is dangerous. So, too, is a retired lawyer wanting to be a kid again. I’ve limited myself to a rather basic analog setup. But cars are a different matter. At last count, I have about 35 slot cars. The adult in me shakes his head every time I look at my collection.
But the kid in me gets a great big smile.