Saying Goodbye to My Right Hand

This week is Alisha's last week at my law firm.  I hired her straight out of law school and, by my count, she has been with us for 16 years.  If memory serves, she joined us shortly after we moved into the building we bought and renovated in downtown Franklin across from the Courthouse. 

Alisha is not just our longest tenured employee - that's an easy one - but she's worked with us the longest of anyone we have ever had, staff or attorney.  That's something because when I think about it, she's been with us more than one-half of the time we've been in business.  

I can remember, like yesterday, Alisha's first small claims court trial in Maury County.  I was there - for her or on another matter, I can't recall for sure - but she was almost in tears before it began because she was so nervous.  I encouraged her and assured he she could do it and she did.  I can't recall if she won or lost but all these years later, that doesn't matter.  

I can recall when I was watching Kaitlyn play basketball over the holidays at Overton High School, I believe, when Alisha called me in a panic.  The judge unexpectedly turned a 20-minute review into a full blown, eight hour hearing with no notice to us or our clients.  I arranged for a court reporter and Alisha handled the hearing on her own.  The result wasn't what we wanted and when she called me late that night, exhausted, I talked her off the ledge and reminded her that as family law attorneys, we don't make the facts in cases.  We do the best we can with the facts our clients have made.  It's as simple as that.

Alisha was the first person from the office to hold JP when he was a baby.  I've got a photo of that somewhere.  Alisha, at our old house on Elliott Avenue, sitting in the den, holding JP with a big smile on her face.  I was beaming with pride.  I can't recall, now, if she was in Nashville covering something in court for me or if she made a special trip to the house to see JP.  

Everyone in the office attended Alisha's wedding reception when she married T. Jay because, well, she was family and we were honored to be there.  It was around the corner from our office, in fact, in a building that, I think, currently houses the Franklin location of Biscuit Love.  

I remember when Alisha and T. Jay bought their first house in Bellevue, as T. Jay struggled to figure out what he wanted to do and what kind of attorney he wanted to be.  Ultimately, he got his JD/MBA in a weekend program at the University of Alabama and, later, found his niche in health care.  He's built a nice career in that field and I'm proud of him.

When Alisha's son was born, there were complications, although he is fine, now.  Later, after her daughter was born, I watched as Alisha grew into her role as a mother.  I know it's been exceedingly hard fo her to find balance in her life - as it is for so many of us - between the demands of being the mother of two young children and a practicing attorney with needy clients and a boss - that's me - who expects a lot from himself first but also from those who work with him.     

So many times, Alisha has been my sounding board.  In her office, I've vented and blown off steam about staff, opposing attorneys in cases, and difficult clients.  Her ability to listen to me and to add a reassuring or calming word here or there is perhaps the most valuable part of our professional relationship to me, I think.  She knew when to let me blow off steam and when to pull aside a staff member and quietly and quickly correct whatever it was that I had a problem with, all behind the scenes.  

She's been my confidant, my office consigliere.  We've interviewed countless potential hires over the years.  Together, we've made decisions to hire people and decisions to fire people.  

I doubt she realizes this but when my mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease and during her three or four year decline - the long goodbye, as they say - Alisha was there for me with a sympathetic ear, again listening as sometimes railed against the unfairness of it all.  That was of great comfort to me. I hope I did the same for Alisha when her mom died, although she's more reserved about those type of things than I am.  

In many ways, Alisha has been the heart and soul of our office, at least as far as I am concerned.  She's been a conduit between Mark, Chas, and me and the rest of the attorneys and staff.  She's organized events -"girls' lunches," breakfasts, decorating the office for Christmas, etc. - and she's let me know when someone was unhappy or having problems at home.  Many issues with staff, I know, she's quietly and discreetly handled without anything being brought to my attention.  

If I have a regret, it's that over the past few years, there's been a drifting in our personal relationship.  Many times, when I stopped by her office, two doors down from mine, just to chat, I felt like Alisha was waiting for me to leave rather than being engaged in the conversation.  I felt like I was intruding, like she was worried that if she took 10 or 15 minutes to talk with me, she might not have time to get her work done.  That bothered me to the point that, over time, I think I just quit stopping by her office to talk.

Instead, our relationship became more professional and much less personal, or at least that's the way it seemed to me.  Maybe that's natural and maybe that's because a lot of the mentoring with Alisha, personally and professionally, had been done and she didn't need or want me to serve in that role any longer.    

Part of the drift between us is natural, I think, as Alisha's family responsibilities, away from work, have increased. That's what happens, of course, with a growing young family, which means increased responsibilities away from work and less time to get it everything done at work and home.  

As I think about it now, what I perceive as the change in our relationship seems to parallel the time period when our youngest attorney, Lee, joined our firm and began to grow into a young, responsible attorney.  I've spent more time with him, particularly after work, mentoring, talking, and listening.  He's come to me, during work, with questions - so many questions - and Alisha has done that type of thing less and less.  That's natural, I suppose.  

Alisha and I used to go out to lunch together, frequently and, later, occasionally, at least in my recollection.  That stopped in later years, too.  In truth, though, I rarely, if ever, leave the office for lunch.  That's not necessarily a good habit but it's one I picked up when I changed my diet three or four years ago.

At any rate, if I'm being honest, I do find myself - here at the end - regretting that I didn't work harder maintain a closer, personal relationship with Alisha.  My hope is that with her departure, we'll be able to develop a peer to peer friendship, one that will not be affected be her work responsibilities at our office.

Now, is that realistic?  Almost certainly, no.  In truth, Alisha will find and start a new job in a month or two.  Between a new job and her family, I'll rarely hear from her.  That's probably as it should be.  Time to move on.

So, as I finish my coffee this Sunday morning, sitting at Dose, and prepare for a day of baseball with Joe in Mt. Juliet, I say goodbye to Alisha, my right hand at work for so long.  

It's been quite a run.  I appreciate everything she's done for our law firm.  I'm going to miss her.

    

Complete Game

Sunday morning, JP's 15U Dawgs played in Gallatin.  I was still in Monteagle and because it would have taken a Herculean effort to get up, pack, and leave the cabin in time to get to Gallatin for the game, I decided to miss it.  Probably a mistake, in hindsight.

What I missed seeing was JP pitch a six inning complete game win, 6 - 1.  Six strikeouts, five hits allowed, one unearned run, and no walks.  No walks!  Only 63 pitches.  He even mixed in a few curve balls.  An impressive outing all the way around.

So far this season for the Dawgs, JP has played catcher, a little infield, and outfield.  He hasn't had a chance to pitch much, certainly not to start.  On the one hand, I had hoped he would get to pitch more than he did in middle school baseball and this summer.  On the other hand, though, a pitcher's arm is, in many ways, a delicate thing, especially for younger boys.  The last thing I want is for JP to get a sore arm from overuse or, alternatively, to get discouraged if he gets pounded by older boys.  

Still, I was hoping he'd get a start, or a change to go long in relief, to show the coach and his teammates what he could do.  JP's been working hard, as always, and takes pitching lessons from a friend of mine's son - Coach Q - who pitched in college.  He's got the heart and mindset - always has, really - to pitch in high leverage situations and to go deep into games.  And that was exactly what he did on Sunday morning.

In my view, his teammates on the Dawgs needed a lift, because the team has been scuffling the past few games.  The day before, in fact, they had lost a couple of games they could have, and probably should have, won.  JP gave them a lift and the team got an easy win.

The kid is pretty amazing, really.  Most mornings, he slips out the door at 6 a.m. and runs by himself, to get his 100 miles in for the summer (the 100-mile club) and to get ready for the fall cross country season.  Today, for example, he ran five miles.  

After his run today and after I made him breakfast, I drove him to work.  Work?  Yep, his first real job.  His second week working at the MBA sports camp for younger boys.  When I dropped him off yesterday, Coach Anderson asked him if wanted to be a camp counselor, as opposed to helping set up camp.  He did, of course, and this week, he has his own group of 1st graders to shepherd around campus.  I'm not sure that he earned a promotion as much as they needed the extra help, but still, Coach Anderson asked JP and he stepped up.

Today, while Joe has an all-star scrimmage baseball game in Franklin and I play law league softball, JP is going to play golf at McCabe's with Abe, a buddy who's leaving for the rest of the summer, for camp. later this week.  

Early morning run.  Work.  Golf. 

That's a pretty good day for a 14 year old boy who is very quickly becoming a young man.

And I'm damn proud to have a front row seat for it all.

Father's Day on the Mountain

It's Sunday afternoon, Father's Day, on the Mountain.  

It's also the last day of Bonnaroo 2022.  Bonnaroo was canceled the last two years because of the pandemic (2020) and flooding (2021).  I kept my streak alive, though, by getting back to the Farm this year.  Our crew was smaller - only Matteson and me -  but we did it and, now, I've been seven or eight years in a row.  

I went to Bonnaroo Thursday night and Matteson and I went Friday and Saturday.  The lineup wasn't as good as in years past, which was a bit disappointing.  Although I haven't seen attendance numbers, it seemed as if the crowds were down considerably.  There's a lot of competition in the festival space and I'm wondering if Bonnaroo has lost its allure to musical acts and festival goers.  If so, it's had a helluva run.

Matterson left this morning but I'm taking my time leaving the Mountain.  In fact, I just finished a 5-mile run on the Trail of Tears and I'm sitting in Stirling's Coffee House having an afternoon cup of coffee.  Then, it's back to Paul's to load my truck and I'll be on the road.  

I'm just not ready to leave, though.  Not yet.  I want - no, I need - to soak up a little bit more of the magic, here, on campus and on the Mountain, that makes this place so special to me.  

It's my favorite place.  I don't really know why but it is.  

I love the University, obviously, and being on campus, around young people.  There's an energy, an optimism, not unlike what I feel when I'm on Belmont U.'s campus, or what I felt in the old days when I was a regular at Bongo Java. 

I love the weather on Monteagle Mountain, always 5 to 10 degrees cooler than in Nashville.  I love the fact that there are so many trails for me to run on or to be hiked.  The outdoors is such a big part of the Mountain.  I feel that, too.  

Maybe most of all, love the pace.  It's slower, for sure.  I feel relaxed here.  Contemplative.  Grateful.  I feel more in touch with myself, with nature, with my faith.  Being here clears the detritus out of my head and provides me with an opportunity to think, and to just be.  To be.  

I miss Jude and the boys but I needed the alone time I got Thursday and that I'm getting this afternoon.  I needed the solitude.  The quiet.  I needed it badly.  I got it and I'm grateful.

  

    

The Sounds of Silence

Last Sunday morning, early, JP left with 11 classmates on a weeklong school trip to the Washington, D.C. area.  The trip is paid for by MBA through the Wilson Grant.  During the school year, JP applied for and was awarded one of 12 spots for the trip.  

The trip has been an opportunity for him to see many, many historic sites with his classmates.  He's several photos to us and it's clear he's having a great time.  I like the fact that he's getting to spend so much time with boys in his class he doesn't particularly know very well, boys that might not play sports like he does. JP's favorite class in 7th grade was history and of the school's history professor is leading the trip, so I think the experience will be a good one for him from an educational standpoint.

Later Sunday afternoon, after his second baseball game of the day for the Braves at Warner Park in the WNSL tuneup tournament, Jude to Joe to Camp Widjiwagan, where he was scheduled to spend a week away from home.  This was a big step for Joe, especially because JP was older than 10, as I recall, when he stayed away from home at a golf camp nearby.  I think Joe was inspired, last summer, when JP was away from home for three weeks at the Woodberry Forest sports camp.  

As he departure day approached, however, Joe began to get a little nervous, which is unlike him.  He's pretty confidence and comfortable in almost any situation.  Still, sleep away camp is sleep away camp, and he had never been away from home for that long before.  Saturday, while I was driving him to a baseball game, I asked him how nervous he was, on a scale of 1 - 10, 1 being the least nervous and 10 being the most nervous.  

"Probably a 4," he said.  I thought that sounded just about right.

The upshot, for Jude and me, anyway, is that for the first time since Joe was born, we had several nights in a row at home, just the two of us.  We'd had a night, here or there, when both boys had sleepovers elsewhere, and we had the run of our place, but never multiple nights.  

Sunday night, we walked down to Josephine's, got the corner 4-top table, and shared a nice meal together. We talked, we laughed, we listened, all things it's sometimes hard to do when we're running the boys from event to event, hustling to pick up a takeout dinner, or watching television with them.  Honestly, it was nice to have some time together, to slow down, and enjoy each other's company.  We don't do that enough, I know.  When we got home, we watched an episode of Ted Lasso.

Monday night, after an aborted attempt to eat dinner at Emery's Wood Fired - they didn't have it together - we walked back down 12th Avenue and had dinner at the Tap Room.  Again, it was nice to share a meal together and, really, just talk.  About the boys, about work, about life.  Things have been tough for me at work, lately.  I'm absolutely swamped, two of may key people have left, and for reasons I won't go into here, I've been left on an island by myself, which has been and is hard to talk.  It was helpful to talk all of that through with Jude, for sure.

Tuesday night, Jude and book club and I was supposed to have a law league softball game, but it was postponed.  

Wednesday night, I had a mediation that went late - notice a recurring theme - and I met Jude for a late dinner at the bar at Urban Grub.  It had been ages since we'd been there.  Somehow, the crowd - particularly at the bar - seemed to have gotten a lot younger, or maybe we have gotten older.  Probably a little bit of both. 

Jude and I enjoyed the quietude this week.  By day four or five, though, we really missed the boys and were ready for them to get back.  

As I write this, I'm sitting in Stirling's Coffeehouse on the Mountain, back for Bonnaroo after it was canceled the past two years.  I'm staying in Paul's cabin again, which he graciously offered to me free of charge.  For maybe the first time, I think I'm more excited about being on the Mountain than going to Bonnaroo, maybe because of the uncharacteristic June heat.  

Sunday, Father's Day, I'll back home and hug my boys.  Then, it's another mediation on Monday, as I grind out the rest of the month at work.

Running with the Kid

Yesterday at Warner Park, Joe had two baseball games, playing for the Braves, in another tuneup tournament.  JP's games at White House Saturday night were canceled, so I called an old friend from the Dodgers' days - Tom Hayden - and asked if he needed a player and he did.  So, JP played a doubleheader at Warner Park (field #5) with the Phillies.  

I helped Tom coach game 2 of a pair of wins and I got see JP pitch, which was nice, because he hasn't pitched in a while.  Two scoreless innings.  On field #2, Joe's Braves won 11-2 and he pitched two scoreless innings, as well.  

My boys, pitching at the same time on different fields at Warner Park.  That was a first.  We're a baseball family, first, last, and always.

Joe's team got beat badly in game #2 Saturday afternoon (17-10).  It was time for a lost, I think, having won 5 in a row.  They rallied in their last at bat, scoring six runs.  Hopefully, that carried over to their game at 10:45 a.m. today.  

When I got home after Joe's second game, I decided to go for a late afternoon run.  JP wanted to join me, which was nice, since he will be gone for the next week.  He's off to Baltimore, Northern Virginia, and Washington DC with 11 classmates at MBA on a Wilson Grant trip.  He applied for a Wilson Grant during the school year - including writing an essay - was fortunate enough to be selected and, right now, he's a on a plane headed north.

We ran four miles, fast as usual.  I always tell him we're not running fast.  He's always smiles and says okay.  And, of course, we always run fast, at least for me.  We ran a new route - not one of our usual ones - up Blakemore and through Vanderbilt, then home.  

I knew we were running a quick pace but my thought was at the end, when he kicked the last half mile or so, I would surprise him and run with him, maybe even beat him.  In other words, that was my plan.  That's not quite how it worked out, of course.

It's like they used to say about fighting Mike Tyson.  "Everyone has a plan against Mike Tyson until he punches you in the face."

For the fourth mile of the run, we ran a couple of laps around the green space at Belmont U, then started down through campus to Belmont Blvd., with about .3 of a mile remaining.  JP picked up the pace for his finishing kick as we turned onto Belmont Boulevard and for .1 of a mile, I stayed with him but just behind him.

JP looked over his shoulder, grinned at me, waved, then took off, leaving me behind for the last .2 of a mile.  I shook my head ruefully but proudly, as I watched him pick up speed and finish the run strongly.  I finished strongly, too, for me, anyway, averaging a flat 8:00 for four miles.  Not bad for a man turns 56 years of age in less than one month.

What I'll remember, though, is the youthful, innocent, and exuberant look on JP's face when he turned and grinned at me before sprinting to the end of the run.  It was a look of promise and it reminded me that as tough as life can be, at times, and though he's had to experience more of the tough side of life at a younger age that I would have preferred - losing my mom and Carley - he's resilient and has a strong faith in God.  

Those two things, resilience and faith, have sustained him - are sustaining him - as he finds his way through his teenage years.  That's my hope, anyway.  

Have a great trip, JP.  I'll miss you while you're gone.  My protege, as I like to say.  My running partner.  We'll hit the streets again when you return.

 

Moonlighting with the Braves

What a baseball weekend in Donelson for Joe, moonlighting with the 10U WNSL Braves for the June all-star season.  

As we drove to Donelson for the first of two games on Saturday morning, Joe and I discussed what my expectations were for him for the tournament.  

"I'm not worried about how you play.  Play hard, of course, and the rest will take care of itself."  I said.  Meet some new people.  Make some new friends.  Make a positive impression on your coaches.  What I really wanted to see, I told him, was leadership.  Vocal leadership.  "Play with confidence," I reminded him.  

Baseball, like life, is about confidence.  Searching for it until you find it.  Keeping it.  Losing it, then finding it again.  Confidence.  

I want my boys to live their lives with the confidence that comes from knowing who they are, being comfortable in their own skin, and believing in the process - the hard work - that prepared them for whatever moment they're in.  That's the secret.  It always comes back to confidence.

It was a different experience for me, watching all of Joe's tournament games from behind the backstop rather than coaching him on the field.  Not bad, just different.  In some ways, more stressful but in other ways, more relaxing.  

Predictably, Joe was, well, Joe.  Enthusiastic the entire weekend.  He quickly and easily - and confidently - blended in with his new teammates.  On Saturday, he played shortstop, third base, second base, first base, and pitched to close out the second game of the day, a victory.  After we made a slight adjustment to his batting stance - turning his back foot in, so he could rotate his hips more easily during his swing - he hit well.

Late in game one on Saturday, playing third base, Joe noticed Hendersonville's fans and players were yelling right as our pitcher prepared to throw a pitch.  He called timeout, walked to the mound, and with his glove covering his mouth - like they do it in the big leagues - had a conversation with our pitcher.  Talking with him later, I asked him what he was doing.  

"Telling him to ignore their fans and just pitch," he replied.  Remember, that's Joe, talking with a player - a pitcher - he barely knows and with whom he's playing in his second game.  That's leadership.  

One play, early in game 2 on Saturday, stands out as the defensive play of the weekend for Joe.  Donelson had a runner on first, no outs, when the batter hit a hard ground ball up the middle.  The Braves' shortstop at the time, Keaton - a left, of all things - fielded the ball cleanly, took a few steps to the bag, then turned to fire the ball to Joe at first base.  The throw was hard but short and Joe stretched off first base - keeping his right foot on the bag and his eyes on the ball - and cleanly picked the one-hopper out of the dirt, beating the runner by a half step for a double play.  

Big time baseball play.  A confidence baseball play that, by default, gave the entire team confidence.  Keaton pointed across the infield, yelled Joe's name, and said "Yeah!"  It was a moment, for sure.  A moment that effectively killed a rally.  A moment that instilled confident in the entire team.  A moment that told the Joe's teammates they could count on him.  A moment, maybe the moment, when Joe became a Brave, if only for the June all-star season.

The Braves won both games on Saturday, then followed that up with easy wins over East Nashville and Donelson, allowing one run in two games and gonging both teams.  Joe played well, with a triple in the first game and a key, two strike RBI single in the first inning of the second game.  

It was a nice tournament victory for the Braves, who gave up four runs in four games for the weekend.  After the final game - a 10-0 shutout of the host team, Donelson - the players for both teams lined up on the field, Donelson on the first base line and the Braves on the third base line.  The Donelson players got pendants and the Braves players got ring.  Yes, rings.

When the coach called Joe's name, so he could walk up to get his ring, his Braves' teammates shouted "Joe!"  I smiled.  Actually, I beamed with pride.  In a quick weekend of baseball, Joe had played with confidence, bonded with his teammates, and become an important part of the team.  That's Joe.  

The best part of the tournament for me, though, was the down time between games.  Joe and I relaxed in my truck, enjoying the air conditioning, while the ate the lunch I'd made for him in the morning, before we left for Donelson.  I had my giant, new Igloo cooler - my purse, according to Jude - packed with Gatorade, water, Red Bull (for me), and food.  After we finished eating lunch, we reclined out seats and listened to David Shoemaker's "Book of Wrestling" podcast from the Ringer, about the history of WWE.  Joe loved it.  

As we shared those quiet moments together, Joe and I, in between baseball games, I was reminded that this is what being a father is all about.  The "in between moments."  Together.  

It was a great weekend for Joe, and for his old man, too.

 

Stop Moving My Cheese

I don't handle change well.  Never have.  It's a character flaw. 

I feel out of sorts when a barista or bartender at one of my regular haunts leaves.  Sure, it's not a big thing.  But, they're woven into the fabric of my life and when they're gone, it's like the fabric unravels a little bit.  To me, that's unsettling.

I think, maybe, that's why I so often get lost in nostalgia.  I long for days and times gone by, before things changed in whatever way they've changed.  The problem, of course, is is things change in every way, because nothing stays the same.  Nothing.

Unsettled is precisely how I've felt lately at work.  Alisha, an attorney and in many ways, my consigliere for the past 16 years, told me last week she's leaving the law firm at the end of June.  I think I'll write more about her at another time.  Huge loss for our firm and for me, personally.    

To top it off, yesterday I said goodbye to September, who joined our firm three years ago and has worked as my paralegal for the past two years.  She's going to be a stay at home mother to her 20-month old daughter, Gemma, at least for the time being.  Another huge loss for the firm and for me. 

September was kind and professional enough to give me three months notice, which I greatly appreciated. Unfortunately, the job market is historically tight - tighter, in fact, then I've ever seen it.  Although we've been looking for her replacement for three months, we haven't found anyone.  That's never happened before.  Until Alisha dropped her bombshell, I had a bit of a cushion.  Now, though, I'm scrambling a bit, although I have options.

It's funny, because in reality, September and I actually worked together for slightly less than two years.  To me, it seems longer, probably because our personalities really clicked and we got along so well together.  Also, in a relatively short period of time, so much happened in the world and in September's life, all of which affected my work - and the way I work - in ways big and small.

Not too long after September and I began working together, the pandemic arrived.  For the first two or three months, all of our staff worked from home, which seems so strange now.  I worked from home a good bit, too.  In some ways, that may have made us closer, sooner, as we were forced to talk on the telephone multiple times a day to get work done.  

September got pregnant, too, and Gemma was born.  At my suggestion, she took three months off for her maternity leave.  When she returned, the pandemic was still raging.  Her mother-in-law caught the virus and was quite sick.  Then, sadly, her stepfather caught the virus and subsequently died.  September had some health issues, too, and I tested positive for Covid-19 in January and was out of the office for almost two weeks.  That's a lot.

September was very good act her job.  Organized, hard working, and conscientious.  And, as I said, we worked well together, in my view.  She complemented me, I think, because she has an eye for details and I generally see the big picture because it's my nature and, also, because I've been doing this for so long.  

I'll miss September, for sure.  I'll figure it out, though.  Why?  Because I always have and I always do, and because I have no choice.  People need help and the work has to get done.

My law partner, Mark, has a sign in his office.  It says, "Growth is optional.  Change is inevitable."

Truer words have never been spoken.

  

Tired

I'm worn out, mentally and emotionally, from a mediation that didn't end until after 11:30 p.m. last night.  

Now, I'm sitting in one of my spots at the Factory - renovations under way all around me - sipping my coffee from Honest Coffee Roasters and trying to recharge my batteries before work.  Today is September's last day and we have a million things to do before she leaves.  As paralegals go, she's one of the best with whom I have worked.  Losing her is going to be tough for me and for my law practice.

Mediating a case, at least the way I do it as a mediator, is an all consuming endeavor.  I put so much of myself - all of myself, really - into the process that it can be exhausting and draining for me.  This is particularly true if the parties have strong personalities or the attorneys have healthy egos, or both.  It's also true when the facts are challenging (i.e. addiction, children at risk or in crisis, domestic violence, etc.).

I think that's part of what makes me a good mediator, though.  I'm willing to meet the parties where they are emotionally.  I'm going to do my dead level best to understand where they are and how they feel.  Through a long day of sometimes intense conversations during mediation sessions, I'm going to find a way to connect with the parties on some level so I can build a certain level of trust between us.  

It's a challenge but it's a challenge I relish every time I mediate a case.  In some mediations and with some people, it's easier than with others.  Sometimes, it happens quickly, even on our initial mediation session.  Other times, I have to work throughout the day to build credibility with a party and to gain his or her trust.  Every mediation is different because every person is different.  No two mediations are like because no two people are alike.

Last night was the second time I had mediated for these individuals and their attorneys.  I mediated for them last fall but we were unable to get the case settled.  I was going to see then again in January but I got Covid-19, so mediation was postponed.  They rescheduled for another day of mediation, yesterday, in a last ditch effort to settle their case before a three day trial later this month.

It was a tough case to resolve but when it was over, the parties were relieved.  The attorneys were relieved, and appreciative, too.  Me?  I was satisfied that I helped two people, with two boys, resolve a very difficult divorce case without having to spend thousands and thousands of dollars attacking each other in a three day trial.  Hopefully, I helped them put an end to the emotional tumult, stress, and anxiety that goes hand-in-hand with contested divorce litigation.

It's Friday.  I've got to get through today, then plan on watching four baseball games tomorrow in two locations, Donelson (Joe) and Drakes Creek (JP).  And maybe, just maybe, find time to get a run or two in over the weekend.