Today I went to the funeral service for a man with whom I worked at the Court. This man, Bob Borghesi by name, served for many years as the Court's Master Calendar Clerk--which translates to something of an air traffic controller, wrangling the massive Lear-jet egos of judges and attorneys and seeing that disputes that needed a trial actually got one. Hearing Bob's story once more, his rags-to-not-quite-riches journey from a reluctant welfare recipient to a position of great power within the local justice system, reminded me anew of the amazing resiliency of the human spirit. Life handed Bob many tough breaks, from the death of one son through the mental challenges faced by another son and on to the too-early death of a beloved spouse. Yet he soldiered on, raised a large extended family, and even managed to give something back to the community through his work with Special Olympics. He was a throwback to a tougher generation, when men acted like men and carried their burdens without whining or bitching.
It was thinking about Bob that sent me on the memory lane trip--trip, like the kind taken by LSD users. I journeyed back in time to the days when I was a hot-headed clerk at the Court, one of many (not all so hot-headed as me) being raised under the guidance of wise managers and supervisors, like Bob, like Bettye Straass, like Debbie Fairweather, like Charlene Walker. As my memory took over, I once again looked up to judges who were both fair and friendly, with names like Gualco, Cecchettini, Park, and DiCristoforo. All of these people, staff and judges alike, offered a great deal to the youngsters like me and my friends (that's you, Trishter and Yvette!). For me, these Court leaders provided opportunities not often available these days. They not only challenged me with difficult assignments, they cheered my successes when I mastered the challenges and supported and consoled me when I fell short. They acted without jealously or malice, finding in their leadership roles an important responsibility, to mentor and educate the next generation. I learned by doing, by watching, by stumbling and getting up again, all under the watchful eyes of these amazing people.
A trip to the past such as this one leaves feelings of bittersweetness. The happiness I enjoyed in those exciting earlier days with the Court should not be, and cannot be, overshadowed by the events that happened in my last ten or so years with the organization. Organizations change, as do people, and we cannot pause for a break while racing through life. My past with the Court, that long ago past, continues to inform the person I am today. If I take on a difficult school assignment, it is with Bettye looking over my shoulder and telling me I can do it. If I strive for a graduate degree, it is because Judge Cecchettini is reminding me of how smart I am. If I write a polished essay--well, that's because of attorney Robert B. Mikel (my boss before I went to work for the Court) and because of Debbie Fairweather who told me to put the "sexy" into budget change requests.
How fortunate am I that these people had the willingness and the ability to push me along. Some of them are gone now, and it is doubtful if those living will ever read my tribute. But my admiration continues. They gave of themselves generously, and I need to do the same. I owe that to the Bob's and Bettye's, to the Charlene's and Debbie's, and to the Judges Gualco, Cecchettini, Park, and DiCristoforo.
Thanks for the memories....
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