On this morning, I'd taken a rare break from standing at the windows and casting judgment so that I could prep for breakfast. H, a fellow Pacific Northwesterner, was riding the light rail from down-town and was expected any minute. So as I worked the stove top, I mentioned to my wife that he might be on the next train. Fortunately, she had taken up my spot at the window and happened to see a confused, lost-looking fellow that gave off the I'm-running-a-little-late vibe. It was H!
H is one of those people from law school that really stuck in my mind. Not only do I remember him quite well, but it's easy for me to believe that everybody remembers him quite well. Further, I don't think it's far-fetched to imagine every law school having their own H, as if he isn't just a person, but a character, so that if a hundred shows about law school were on TV, every one of them would have an H. His role is just that iconic, something akin to Norm on Cheers.
When I think of my law school, I sometimes forget that it isn't really real. Yes, there are bricks and sheetrock and insulation and other contruction-y terms, but the school, really, is the people. With-out the students, faculty, and staff, the school would just be an unliving building. Without characters like H and others, my degree wouldn't come from the School of Law, but simply from its address given to it by the city. So I can't help but be happy to see H again, to witness him being so him, and to be reminded that I am part of something bigger, something real, something so much more than just a building.