Sometimes it happens when you’re young… sometimes it happens when you have some mileage on your tires… but when you hit one of “life’s intersections” it is bound to have an impact on your life from that point forward. And usually you don’t fully recognize the impact ’til some point further down the road… when you reflect and take stock of things… maybe when you’re sipping on a whisky…
What turned out well… and sadly, what did not.
I turn back a few pages in the book and see a picture of Mort Lewis.
When I first met Mort, he was Mr. Lewis and I was a little kid (I would also know him as Colonel Lewis — a full bird Colonel — & serve under him when he was Commandant of the 1031st USAR School… but that is a chapter from a different story).
Mort worked in a small family market that had been owned by his wife Evelyn’s parents. Evelyn’s brother Harvey worked in the market, too; but Mort handled the butcher’s corner. Although I was never party to it, I can imagine that Mommie Soph and Mort would spend time “talking shop” every now and then.
There was nothing in the way Mort carried himself, nothing in the way he dressed (in his “civies”, that is, and not in an apron), or in the way he spoke with his clear and refined manner of address, that would give an indication of his trade.
Not that his trade lacked honor… especially to our family… Mommie Soph, after all, had spent decades as a member of the “butcher’s guild”.
Still, Mort’s trade was a bit unexpected when one considers that he had a Bachelor of Arts Degree from Yale University, and a Degree in Law from Harvard University.
When I got older I would learn more of the story.
And this is the story… the fine strokes might be off; but the story is true. Mort who hailed from the Bay State, traveled south of the border to New Haven and Yale University. Somewhere along the path to earning his degree he fell in love with Evelyn Hurwitz.
When their eventual marriage took place on this time line I can’t tell you; but this is known: after Yale he was accepted into Harvard Law School. He earned his Degree and then passed the Massachusetts Bar. Evelyn, his wife by then (I think) joined him in Massachusetts; but ultimately decided that she was unhappy there. Deep homesickness?
Not a problem. They return to New Haven, home to Evelyn… and home to Mort for the four years at Yale. Moving back was not a big deal.
Although he was admitted to the Bar in Massachusetts, in those days he was still required to take Connecticut’s as well.
He took the exam. He failed.
He took the exam a second time. He failed.
Meanwhile, he needed a means of support. He had a wife… perhaps their first, Isabel was on the way (or was she already born?), so Mort hitched up his pants… put on an apron and took honorable work to provide for his family.
Ironically, among my parents’ circle of friends, none could boast of Mort’s education, and yet the Lewis’ lived in the meanest of homes in that circle. Not that pride and love were absent in that home… it was just a twist of fate that put them in a small red house on busy Fitch Street and not in a spacious house on Tumblebrook Road in Woodbridge.
Take a breath and think.
Mort had a Law Degree from one of the most prestigious Schools in the land, admitted to the Bar in Massachusetts; but moved back to Connecticut because of Evelyn’s unhappiness… and then would be unable to pursue the career for which he had just spent years prepping for…
Just an intersection in life. Things happen, we make decisions… and the event will colour our lives.
And then beautifully, there is that rare time when there is redemption.
Maybe Mort was 60, probably older… when he took Connecticut’s Bar Exam a third time. Well, you know how it is, third time is a charm. Yes, Mort passed.
No… he was not 25 or 26, fresh out of Law School to be recruited by a hot shot law firm… as he would have been 40 years before.
What a shame; but I guess that’s understandable.
Mort would take a job in the Public Defender’s Office of New Haven. And ladies and gentlemen, of this I can assure you: for that unfortunate soul, if Mort Lewis was Counsel, that person received the best legal advice available.
In my book, Mort is a hero in many ways. A real mensch as we say in my neighborhood.
These are not random thoughts. They were put into motion by a call I received from Shaina. “Dad, I passed my Certification Exam!!”
Bravo Shaina! Well done!
Shaina is now a certified trainer. She is now permitted to run out onto the field, and tell the catcher who just “caught” a direct foul back in between the legs… “don’t touch there, we’re on national TV.”
This was Shaina’s second attempt at this exam. She passed the written on the first go ’round; but stubbed her toe (pun intended) on the practical application & written simulation.
For the past couple of months Shaina has lived with the outcome of that exam… lived with the doubts, maybe with the fear. The fear of what happens if I don’t pass the next time?
Shaina has a job. A good job, and its in a related field — rehab physical trainer. Maybe it’s even better paying than if she were an assistant trainer someplace.
But that’s not the point. She has a goal, and passing that exam was necessary for proceeding on her path.
Over the past couple of months we rarely spoke of the upcoming re-test.
Maybe I was put in mind of Mort Lewis… who stubbed his toe twice before retreating to a deep fall back position and then donned the butcher’s apron.
Not that being a butcher made Mort a bad human being… on the contrary, there is nothing that could detract from the graciousness and humanity that made Mort Lewis that fine man he was.
But the call I received from Shaina saying, “I passed…” meant that I could brush the dust from Mort’s photograph, close the book and put it back on the shelf. That lesson can be reserved for another time.
