As those few who read this column know, I occasionally stray from serious talk about ethics and the practice of law in an effort to entertain a bit and show that even wonks and bar-junkies have something of a life. I think it’s called work-life balance or something, though some of my critics just call it narcissism. Anyway, as the year creaks to an end, I am taking some stock and looking ahead.
Things got off to a rocky start in April when I crashed a bicycle and broke my neck. Though my mother and both wives had warned me for many years that one or another ill-considered enterprise (race car driving, mountain climbing, extreme skiing, polo) would inevitably lead to such an end, I had no idea that it would happen when I turned to look at a bird while going less than 10 mph on a bicycle. Granted, it was a big bird, but the whole enterprise is probably more illustrative of how more people die within a mile of home doing some simple chore than defying death. I always thought I would die in a dramatic or romantic manner. I did not want “bird-watcher” as my epitaph. Blessedly, I recovered quickly, though not completely, and was able to get back to my usual fare.
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