The Judge

Ok, as promised, here is my other story…it is lunchtime and I feel like blogging some more…lucky you!!!

I got a message last night from one of the key people in my life: The Judge. He is, not surprisingly, a judge. More specifically he is a judge working in the Illinois family court system, and in an important capacity (which becomes important later on.) He was just calling to check in on me and see how I was doing, which he does periodically.

Now let’s back up, to when I was about Munchkin’s age…a little older, I was in sixth grade. My mother got arrested for being a drunk, which actually happened three or four times. I think she got thrown out of a bar and drove away despite the warnings of a police officer that if she got in the car they would arrest her. So she did, and they did, and that is bad news.

Shortly after that we were in family court because the state was trying to argue that she was an unfit mother. In truth, at that point she was pretty much a waste product, although she always made it to work and kept me fed, clothed and warm, so she was never a total loss.

After the hearing the Judge went back to his office to think about whatever he was gonna do. I told the attorney that I wanted to talk to the judge, and he relayed it to the bailiff who went to see the judge and came back to get me.

Even doday, I am only about 5’ 1" (that is generous) and weigh 98 pounds (my weight is another story…no I don’t have an eating disorder) and I have always been tiny. The Judge is about 6’ 6" and weighs probably 260 pounds. So little, itty-bitty 12 year-old me went into his office to tell him why I should stay with my mother.

I told him that I didn’t think she could survive without me…lol. Which is kind of cute in hindsight. I said that she needed me to take care of her and that she wasn’t a bad mother but that she wouldn’t be safe if I wasn’t there. She was a drunk, but I never missed any school, had all the regular doctor’s visit a kid is supposed to and had good grades.

In the end, he let me stay with her under some rules. Every Friday he was going to call my teachers to make sure I was in school every day, went to all of my classes, did all of my homework and did well on all of my tests. Then I had to be home at exactly 4:30 every Friday so he could call me after he spoke with all of my teachers.

And he did that every single week through 6th, 7th, 8th and 9th grade. By the time I was a sophomore in High School, he told me that he didn’t need to call my teachers any more, but that I had to bring him my report cards every quarter and check in about once a month. And that went on through High School.

He sent me a big bouquet of flowers on my 18th birthday and a long personal letter. At that point he couldn’t tell me to do anything any more;-) but I still talked to him about once a month and always faxed him my grades in college when I got them. When I graduated from College I sent him a framed copy of my degree.

Now, there is absolutely no reason for him to do something like that. He easily could have put me in foster care, or just sent me back to my mother. He didn’t though; he helped me and took a genuine real interest in me at a level that cost him a lot of his personal time and energy. I am not going to lie, there was a LOT of schoolwork that I did only because I knew that The Judge would find out if I didn’t. Would I have ever graduated from High School? I don’t know…I probably would have, but I wouldn’t have done nearly as well and never would have gone to college.

So now he is a friend and I feel a real sense of pride when he tells me that he is proud of me. That friendship actually came in really handy about a year and a half ago, but I am going to leave that part of the story out for now.