The Old Law

Richmond, what can I say, I’ve been there since 1997 minus a little move to Charleston.  Richmond is beautiful, Richmond is a real city that has many layers to it.  I can eat at some of the best restaurants in the country and drink in some of the shittiest dive bars you ever seen. The many different areas all have charms that are unknown to outsiders. I can go on for hours.

Come and visit, I’ll show you.  Unless you’ve spent time in jail

Top three bourbons

1.Pappy

2. Knob Creek

I have somehow become enamored of the idea of a sleeping porch. Because let’s face it, Summer, in the South, Is about #sleepingporches

I threw my name in the hat. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit part of it was just decision fatigue. I am so drained from thinking on it.

But it fits. And for now, it’s just a conversation.

I spoke with a lobbyist at a large Richmond law firm today. Friend of a friend. Seemed to confirm this is a good segue to Richmond in a few years. I felt better about that.  I’ll be talking with another prominent lobbyist from Richmond this week too. Call it independent confirmation. Call it setting myself up for a few years from now.

I’d be lying if I didn’t say I wasn’t somewhat disappointed. Perhaps a bit peeved that the committee originally made a big deal out of getting me to apply, then going with someone else. But that’s just foolish of me - I set it up that way, so duh, and I didn’t want this job, just what it might lead to. Then again, like anyone else, I’d prefer to reject than be rejected.

Maxwell Perkins: Or, edit your life. 

When you’re lucky enough to get old, you become an adept editor. What works, what doesn’t work, it’s clear at my age. ‘Stuff’, routines, and people - who is inside the moat of friendship, affection, and protection - and who doesn’t make the cut. 

Some things and people you hold nearer and dearer. One of my ‘people’ is in town tomorrow and I may write about her then.  

‘Things’ include old furniture, a handful of books, and my  ritual of fresh cut flowers every week. It’s my inoculation against a society that on occasion seems to have lost both its manners and its collective mind. This simple act of civility pleases the heck out of me. 

When the maid identifies my body thirty years hence she will no doubt have these three things to say about me: 

“When a child is born, a father is born. A mother is born too, of course, but at least for her it’s a gradual process. Body and soul, she has nine months to get used to what’s happening. She becomes what’s happening. But for even the best-prepared father, it happens all at once. On the other side of the plate-glass window, a nurse is holding up something roughly the size of a loaf of bread for him to see for the first time. Even if he should decide to abandon it forever ten minutes later, the memory will nag him to the grave. He has seen the creation of the world. It has his mark upon it. He has its mark upon him. Both marks are, for better or worse, indelible. All sons, like all daughters, are prodigals if they’re smart. Assuming the old man doesn’t run out on them first, they will run out on him if they are to survive, and if he’s smart he won’t put up too much of a fuss. A wise father sees all this coming, and maybe that’s why he keeps his distance from the start. He must survive too. Whether they ever find their way home again, none can say for sure, but it’s the risk he must take if they’re ever to find their way at all. In the meantime, the world tends to have a soft spot in its heart for lost children. Lost fathers have to fend for themselves.”

By all accounts, I have my dream job at 30. I get to do land use and zoning law in my chosen locales, and I work with people I love.  Legitimately. In fact, I work with one of my closest friends, and my mentor is a leader in the field and one of the best men I’ve known. They trust me enough that they pushed me through as a junior shareholder late last year. I’ve never been at a firm where everyone is as close as we are here. And I’ve worked at enough places to know. On top of that, my job afforded me the ability to buy a dream home for my family in a great place to live.

But like it or not, I’ve always wanted to be a lobbyist, especially in Richmond. For various reasons, it just won’t pan out at my firm. The other day, though, I got an offer for a position that would let me continue to work in land use and do some lobbying in Richmond. I’d be the Executive Director for an organization where I currently sit on the Board of Directors. I’d be the face of a name-brand organization in the region, and it would likely put me in a position five years from now to actually live and work in Richmond with a lobby outfit.

Or maybe not. Who knows. And it’s an immediate pay cut for the foreseeable future.

Objectively, I should say no. There are no guarantees in life, but I know roughly the trajectory for me at my firm.

The thing that keeps nagging me is, what if this is an opportunity missed? You never know, one way or the other.

I spoke with a bunch of people I trust from our Board, and I think I know as much as I’m going to know about where this position could go. I spoke with a lobbyist who sits on the Board, other land use attorneys, the current executive director, you name it.  It really does sound like, done correctly, this could land us in Richmond in the relatively near future. And I’ve been reviewing the organizations I’d appear before as ED. This really is in my bailiwick as a policy guy and an advocate. They might even be able to match my current salary.

But I also spoke with my friend and my boss. That’s how much we trust each other.  As it turns out, they are my id and my ego. My friend (who is in his 50s by the by - are you surprised?) is my ego - thinks it’s worth a shot if we want to eventually live in Richmond.  My boss is my id. He independently said all of the things that have been nagging me about staying at the firm.  [Side story - we had to take personality tests for a firm retreat, and my boss and I scored within the margin of error on our general personalities.] So I trust I am hearing the echos of my own though process in them.

One other thing that has nagged me lately. My boss is like a third grandfather, and I’ve lost my other two to time. He’s in his 70s, and I’m concerned this would be goodbye for us in a big way. Not sure I am emotionally ready for that. Of course, you can’t live your life for someone else, but he took me on when no one else would. And we are generally two peas in a pod. Loyalty like that shouldn’t be so readily discarded.

So here we are.

I would love to live in Richmond. It’s my favorite place, and we love its pace and the people. We have family there. I’d love to work on Capitol Square. Want to know how boring I am? I’ve been watching committee meeting videos from the General Assembly to watch the process. [Side story: I did this in law school too with zoning hearings.  I am a hoot to be around.] And I’ve been watching what interviews I can find with Virginia lobbyists. They talk about the job and the reasons they took it in the same way I romanticize it in my head. But I’d leave everything I love about the firm, and really, I’d be leaving friends to do this.

On the other hand, I really do have the job I dreamed of having in law school. I worked hard for it, but I got extremely lucky to work with these folks. They are my friends and perhaps closer than that in some instances. They give me work opportunities that let me test my skills. And we invest together in real estate opportunities that we’d never do independently. I really have no where to go but up at the firm. But we’d be here in NoVa. Not a bad place to be, but it will wear on you with the traffic and the people.