courtroom was cold, ominous, and intimidating. But naturally I couldn’t show how I felt. I was sixteen years old and was not about to appear as anything other than aloof and bored. My poor mom was both nervous and embarrassed as we approached the judge’s bench…
Having been issued a traffic ticket the month before, I was making my mandated court appearance. Evidently, the engineers at Fiat had neither the foresight nor courtesy to design their mid-1960s two-seat convertible to accommodate a driver and five teenage passengers. After rehearsals for our high school production of “The Skin of Our Teeth,” I’d hastily lower the top and cram as many cast members into the car as possible — some of them wedged behind the seats and some onto the trunk — and ferry them home. The nightly rides were sheer joy. But one evening, the buzzkill of those flashing red lights abruptly swung our collective mood from unbridled ecstasy to deep gloom. And although I was definitely bummed out, I really can’t say that I was surprised.
The judge pondered something for a couple minutes, then admonished me for my behavior, let me off with a warning, and dismissed the case. My mom breathed an audible sigh of relief, thanked him, and we headed toward the exit. But, dammit, I just couldn’t leave well enough alone. Much to my mother’s chagrin, I turned back, overcome by an uncontrollable need to stand up to The Man and get in the last word: “Excuse me, Your Honor,” my voice dripping with sarcasm, “but I didn’t realize that there was any particular law against the number of people I can carry in my car.”
The judge’s look was stern, but his voice was kindly: “But you knew it was wrong, didn’t you, son?” He had me. I had nothing to say. No flimsy excuse. No convoluted rationalization. No smartass teenage retort. Nothing. My juvenile swagger had dissolved into humbled silence. I simply lowered my eyes and nodded slowly.
Of course, he was right. He knew it. My mom knew it. Everybody in the courtroom knew it. And, most important, I knew it.
It’s easy to rationalize irrational behavior — it gives us comfort. It’s much harder to seek and accept the truth — it can be painful. And recognizing the difference between the two can be harder still. But if we value truth over self-deception, it’s well worth the pursuit.
Life Lesson:
Defeat rationalizations with truth.
The price was right. Ever since it first opened its doors, the LA Free Clinic was a welcome refuge for those lacking in either medical insurance or financial resources — which, as a recent college graduate in the mid-1970s, was me. Once there, you could seek assistance for everything from a dog bite or sprained ankle to hepatitis or pregnancy testing. All you had to do was walk in, provide the quasi-hippie chick behind the counter with your name, reason for visit, astrological sign (no, I am not making that up), and then wait…and wait…and wait…
As I settled into a hard plastic chair on that faded linoleum floor, I noticed against the wall, a large wooden rack, chock full of educational pamphlets, all arranged in alphabetical order. Since I had nothing but time and anxiety on my hands, I perused each one, working my way from A to Z. Allergies. Breast Cancer. Coronary Heart Disease. Diabetes. Epilepsy.
When I reached Venereal Diseases, I thought, “Okay, let’s see what’s happening in that world.” The first page covered gonorrhea; the second, syphilis. The brochure was loaded with basic medical information, accompanied by some disgustingly graphic illustrations. Then I got to a sentence that, even to this day, still sends shivers down my spine: “Of course, one can contract both gonorrhea and syphilis in the same sexual encounter.” (Boy, talk about your rotten luck!) My mind raced to one possible scenario:
FADE IN:
INTERIOR: COUPLES’ BEDROOM — NIGHT
HE
Baby, I have some really bad news…
SHE
What is it, sweetie?
HE
…and I hope that you’ll be able to forgive me.
SHE
It’s okay, you can tell me. I’ll always love you. No matter what.
HE
Well…I just found out that I tested positive for gonorrhea. And I probably gave it to you.
SHE
What?! How could you?!
(choking back tears)
You miserable piece of shit!
(now sobbing uncontrollably)
HE
You’re right. I am a miserable piece of shit. But I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
SHE
Forgive you? How could I ever forgive you?!
HE
I’m not sure. But I pray that you can. You mean everything to me. I’ll do anything to make things up to you.
SHE
I don’t know. I just don’t know.
(sobbing again)
You’re such an asswipe! I trusted you!
HE
Please? I beg you, please?
SHE
(after a pause)
All I can say is that I’ll think about it.
(wiping away her tears)
I mean, I don’t want to throw away our whole relationship.
HE
Thank you, thank you, thank you baby. I love you so much!
SHE
I love you too. We’ll find a way to work this out.
HE
I know we will.
(after a pause)
Oh, baby…?
SHE
Yes, sweetie?
HE
Umm…there’s just one more little thing…
FADE TO BLACK
As anyone who knows me would testify, I am by nature anything but an optimist. For some, the glass is half full. For others, the glass is half empty. I used to joke that for me, there is no glass.
However, over time
