If I stop and think about five top moments for 2013, I don’t automatically list the grand and supreme. Instead, the simpler moments were the bigger moments.
I’m reminded of that scene in “Raiders of the Lost Ark,” when Indiana Jones is listening to his arch-enemy, Dr. Rene Beloq, who says, “See this wristwatch. It's worthless - ten dollars from a vendor in the street. But I take it, I bury it in the sand for a thousand years, it becomes priceless.”
Here are my priceless moments for the last year.
Saturday, March 15, 2013…The location was UD Arena, and the occasion was the Division I District Basketball tournament, with Springboro playing powerhouse Cincinnati Moeller.
I’ve watched big games at the Arena since I was 10 years old. All the greats have been there. So it was a sentimental for me to see my daughter Chloe as a cheerleader along the sidelines, with all her Springboro classmates and friends on the court playing the game. The Panthers sprinted to a hefty first half lead, but then had to hold on for dear life to secure the victory.
My special moment came at halftime, when I walked over in Chloe’s direction. “This is so exciting,” I said. “I’ve seen Larry Bird here. Bobby Knight has been here, and so has Magic Johnson. And here you guys are, playing on the same court.”
“I know. Wow,” Chloe said. “Who are all those guys?”
THURSDAY, April 3, 2013…We were on a cruise ship out in the middle of the Caribbean, traveling from the Cayman Islands to Mexico. The sun was bright, the temperature somewhere in the high 80s, and the ship had a margarita or two to offer.
Kim and I have been to so many spectacular places in our 23 years together – Aspen, the Monterrey Peninsula, Cabo San Lucas, Laguna Beach, Hawaii, and Chicago. But this trip was special, not only for its locale, but its timing. As for me, the demands of being a divorce lawyer for 25 years had begun to take its toll.
Kim and I were on the main deck, just enjoying the escape in the late afternoon sun. “Something has to change, Kim,” I said. “I can’t see myself preparing to fight high-conflict divorce cases when I’m 62 years old. I need to slow down.”
She agreed. There were some things in the works, but we were waiting on final word.
That evening, I got an email from my brother Joe indicating he had just been appointed Judge of the Warren County Juvenile/Probate Court. That was great news, but he was more worried about me.
Three days later, I received a call to join Judge Tim Oliver in the Warren County Divorce Court. Joe and I both left the full-time practice of law two months later.
The stars are brighter and the sea is bluer when stress is lessened.
FRIDAY, July 10, 2013….It is around 6:30 and I’m walking the seventh fairway with Judge James Flannery in a golf league that features a lot of lawyers and judges. By this time, I’ve now been in my new job with Judge Oliver for six weeks, and I had spent my day in mediation. I loved it.
Instead of engaging in a proverbial boxing match with an opponent all day, which is what trial lawyers do, my job as a magistrate was (and is) to get the parents to work together. Bring the anxiety level down. Bring the frustration down. And watch how complicated cases become much more manageable.
I was telling Judge Flannery how enjoyable my day was as we walked down the fairway. I told him I was so thankful Judge Oliver had given me this opportunity. The sun was setting, but the air was still warm, and we were both hitting the ball well. I had a fifteen-footer for birdie.
“Knock it in there, Jeffro, and make this the perfect day,” Judge Flannery said.
I smiled, and realized my day the next day would be similar to the one that day.
“It already is, Judge. It already is.” (Good thing, because I missed the putt).
FRIDAY, September 12, 2013…Writing has always been a diversion that relaxes me. A few years ago, when Chloe became a varsity cheerleader, I had an obvious reason to go to high school varsity games. While some dads keep stats and other work behind the scenes, I write.
I have two other Facebook pages, “The Heart of the Panthers” for my Springboro subjects, and “Once A Wildcat, Always A Wildcat” for my Franklin ones. All throughout this calendar year, I talked to so many interesting people and wrote a lot of nice pieces that were read and appreciated.
On this particular Friday night, I had started out in Kettering as Springboro’s football team played at Fairmont. At halftime, I went to Franklin to see Miamisburg’s game against the Wildcats.
It occurred to me during a timeout that night that football Friday night is without a doubt one of the best shows on earth. Local kids are proud to represent their town, and they play their hearts out. It’s a time when a community comes together.
Just then, a dad who was standing along the sideline walked over my way. “Thanks so much for what you do, Kirb. We’re really lucky to have you,” he said.
I appreciated the comment, but my response was equally heartfelt. “I’m the lucky one, Mark. Thank YOU.”
A few minutes later, a TV reporter slipped over and said, “Don’t you hate it when they try to suck up to you?”
I chuckled. “I suspect his boy might get some attention without sucking up,” I said.
“Oh yeah? Who’s his son?”
“Luke Kennard.”
WEDNESDAY, December 25, 2013…This year began with the tragic news that my sister Julie had died unexpectedly. She was only 49. There were times throughout the next few months I would be talking to my other sister Jenny, or my brothers Joe or John, and I would say, “Did all that really happen? I can’t believe Julie is gone.”
Julie loved kids. She loved her husband John’s three sons, and she loved the eight Kirby / Stewart grandchildren as well. They were all “her kids.” As a result, Julie made the family Christmas a really big deal, and everyone looked forward to it – the kids especially. She dished out gifts and jabs in equal fashion. “Here you go, Goober,” she would say.
But Julie wasn’t here this year.
Something was needed to commemorate her role in everyone’s lives.
So when all the other gifts had been exchanged, we had a moment devoted only to Julie – to what she meant to other people, and what she meant to us. She loved getting all of us to Cincinnati Reds games together.
Everyone then opened one last gift – a Cincinnati Reds hat with her initials inscribed along the side. The photo above is of all the kids wearing their hats.
Now, when we’re working in the yard, trying to hide a bad hair day, or when we decide to go to a Reds’ game, Julie can go with us.
It’s our tribute to her. It allows each to tell her, “Here you go, Goober.” And chuckle. Julie would love that.
WE RANG IN THE NEW Year last night. As much as we may think our lives are stuck in a rut, the reality is that change is inevitable. Some of the change will be horrible. Others will be enjoyable.
But the simpler moments exist every day. They are the quiet conversations and the moments when life seemingly makes sense. Be on the lookout for them, for one day they will seem priceless.
I’m reminded of that scene in “Raiders of the Lost Ark,” when Indiana Jones is listening to his arch-enemy, Dr. Rene Beloq, who says, “See this wristwatch. It's worthless - ten dollars from a vendor in the street. But I take it, I bury it in the sand for a thousand years, it becomes priceless.”
Here are my priceless moments for the last year.
Saturday, March 15, 2013…The location was UD Arena, and the occasion was the Division I District Basketball tournament, with Springboro playing powerhouse Cincinnati Moeller.
I’ve watched big games at the Arena since I was 10 years old. All the greats have been there. So it was a sentimental for me to see my daughter Chloe as a cheerleader along the sidelines, with all her Springboro classmates and friends on the court playing the game. The Panthers sprinted to a hefty first half lead, but then had to hold on for dear life to secure the victory.
My special moment came at halftime, when I walked over in Chloe’s direction. “This is so exciting,” I said. “I’ve seen Larry Bird here. Bobby Knight has been here, and so has Magic Johnson. And here you guys are, playing on the same court.”
“I know. Wow,” Chloe said. “Who are all those guys?”
THURSDAY, April 3, 2013…We were on a cruise ship out in the middle of the Caribbean, traveling from the Cayman Islands to Mexico. The sun was bright, the temperature somewhere in the high 80s, and the ship had a margarita or two to offer.
Kim and I have been to so many spectacular places in our 23 years together – Aspen, the Monterrey Peninsula, Cabo San Lucas, Laguna Beach, Hawaii, and Chicago. But this trip was special, not only for its locale, but its timing. As for me, the demands of being a divorce lawyer for 25 years had begun to take its toll.
Kim and I were on the main deck, just enjoying the escape in the late afternoon sun. “Something has to change, Kim,” I said. “I can’t see myself preparing to fight high-conflict divorce cases when I’m 62 years old. I need to slow down.”
She agreed. There were some things in the works, but we were waiting on final word.
That evening, I got an email from my brother Joe indicating he had just been appointed Judge of the Warren County Juvenile/Probate Court. That was great news, but he was more worried about me.
Three days later, I received a call to join Judge Tim Oliver in the Warren County Divorce Court. Joe and I both left the full-time practice of law two months later.
The stars are brighter and the sea is bluer when stress is lessened.
FRIDAY, July 10, 2013….It is around 6:30 and I’m walking the seventh fairway with Judge James Flannery in a golf league that features a lot of lawyers and judges. By this time, I’ve now been in my new job with Judge Oliver for six weeks, and I had spent my day in mediation. I loved it.
Instead of engaging in a proverbial boxing match with an opponent all day, which is what trial lawyers do, my job as a magistrate was (and is) to get the parents to work together. Bring the anxiety level down. Bring the frustration down. And watch how complicated cases become much more manageable.
I was telling Judge Flannery how enjoyable my day was as we walked down the fairway. I told him I was so thankful Judge Oliver had given me this opportunity. The sun was setting, but the air was still warm, and we were both hitting the ball well. I had a fifteen-footer for birdie.
“Knock it in there, Jeffro, and make this the perfect day,” Judge Flannery said.
I smiled, and realized my day the next day would be similar to the one that day.
“It already is, Judge. It already is.” (Good thing, because I missed the putt).
FRIDAY, September 12, 2013…Writing has always been a diversion that relaxes me. A few years ago, when Chloe became a varsity cheerleader, I had an obvious reason to go to high school varsity games. While some dads keep stats and other work behind the scenes, I write.
I have two other Facebook pages, “The Heart of the Panthers” for my Springboro subjects, and “Once A Wildcat, Always A Wildcat” for my Franklin ones. All throughout this calendar year, I talked to so many interesting people and wrote a lot of nice pieces that were read and appreciated.
On this particular Friday night, I had started out in Kettering as Springboro’s football team played at Fairmont. At halftime, I went to Franklin to see Miamisburg’s game against the Wildcats.
It occurred to me during a timeout that night that football Friday night is without a doubt one of the best shows on earth. Local kids are proud to represent their town, and they play their hearts out. It’s a time when a community comes together.
Just then, a dad who was standing along the sideline walked over my way. “Thanks so much for what you do, Kirb. We’re really lucky to have you,” he said.
I appreciated the comment, but my response was equally heartfelt. “I’m the lucky one, Mark. Thank YOU.”
A few minutes later, a TV reporter slipped over and said, “Don’t you hate it when they try to suck up to you?”
I chuckled. “I suspect his boy might get some attention without sucking up,” I said.
“Oh yeah? Who’s his son?”
“Luke Kennard.”
WEDNESDAY, December 25, 2013…This year began with the tragic news that my sister Julie had died unexpectedly. She was only 49. There were times throughout the next few months I would be talking to my other sister Jenny, or my brothers Joe or John, and I would say, “Did all that really happen? I can’t believe Julie is gone.”
Julie loved kids. She loved her husband John’s three sons, and she loved the eight Kirby / Stewart grandchildren as well. They were all “her kids.” As a result, Julie made the family Christmas a really big deal, and everyone looked forward to it – the kids especially. She dished out gifts and jabs in equal fashion. “Here you go, Goober,” she would say.
But Julie wasn’t here this year.
Something was needed to commemorate her role in everyone’s lives.
So when all the other gifts had been exchanged, we had a moment devoted only to Julie – to what she meant to other people, and what she meant to us. She loved getting all of us to Cincinnati Reds games together.
Everyone then opened one last gift – a Cincinnati Reds hat with her initials inscribed along the side. The photo above is of all the kids wearing their hats.
Now, when we’re working in the yard, trying to hide a bad hair day, or when we decide to go to a Reds’ game, Julie can go with us.
It’s our tribute to her. It allows each to tell her, “Here you go, Goober.” And chuckle. Julie would love that.
WE RANG IN THE NEW Year last night. As much as we may think our lives are stuck in a rut, the reality is that change is inevitable. Some of the change will be horrible. Others will be enjoyable.
But the simpler moments exist every day. They are the quiet conversations and the moments when life seemingly makes sense. Be on the lookout for them, for one day they will seem priceless.
Happy New Year.
