Starts with K
My father-in-law once shared some incredibly wise words with his loved ones:
“Don’t judge your kids until they’re 40.”
I suspect it may have been a form of self-encouragement. He was, after all, my husband’s father. My husband, who has always had, shall we say … a bit of a rebellious streak. Yes, we shall say.
It did make sense, I realized. How many of us are just faking our way through new parenthood and young adulthood and burgeoning careers, before we learn what matters and what doesn’t?
But I was genuinely surprised when I needed to deploy those pearls of wisdom – multiple times – about my own oldest son.
He’s always been smart, if not a bit, shall we say … reckless? Yes, we shall say.
He graduated at the top of his high school class, academically, but was banned from speaking at their commencement. When he showed up with bare legs under his gown, there was serious speculation that he might be naked underneath.
His classmates voted him Most Likely to be President, because why not? Rebels can be president, right?
He received a full-ride scholarship to the University of Minnesota, Twin Cities – and flunked out after two semesters. He was smart, remember? One might even say he knew it all.
By the time he was 30, he had learned enough to cry to me about how disappointed he was in himself. There was a tiny spark of hope, though, as he moved into his dingy basement studio apartment: He’d somehow managed to get a job as a legal assistant at the Hennepin County Public Defender’s Office.
It was a perfect fit, especially for a know-it-all who had broken more than a few (ahem) rules in his life.
What he saw was how lucky he’d been, from his brains to his background to the benefit of the doubt he always received, and something changed a little.
About that time, he also met a lovely young woman. My boy liked her immediately, loved her soon after.
She – master’s degree in hand – provided more than just a little inspiration. I secretly believe she also gave him a disdainful look when they first shared their educational backgrounds, which probably created more change.
Within a year, he was somehow referred to the Office of the Federal Defender for the District of Minnesota. Please do not ask me how; I believe sorcery was involved.
Those folks – brilliant all, including the judges he got to know – asked why he hadn’t gone to law school.
Easy! Because he hadn’t completed any college!
He married that lovely young woman, then enrolled at Bemidji State while working at the federal public defender’s office. He finished his undergrad summa cum laude in three years, a month before their daughter was born.
He was accepted at the University of St. Thomas School of Law, where he excelled. He continued to work – though his wife is the real rock star here – and graduated from law school magna cum laude four months after their son was born.
His classmates chose my boy to be the student speaker at commencement; he sat on the stage alongside a Minnesota Appeals Court justice, a U.S. District Court justice, the dean of the law school and the professor of the year.
When I tell you I was shamelessly proud, believe it. He thanked me, his stepdad and his brothers, but his wife – that rock star, working mom with the appropriately disdainful look – deservedly got all the credit.
His speech was all the things: smart, funny, passionate, compassionate and sincere.
He takes the bar exam in July, then starts a new job in September.
In a very full-circle moment, he’s been hired as an assistant public defender at the Hennepin County Public Defender’s Office.
So here we are, friends – with a year to spare.
He’ll be 39 in October.