Living the Life

Some moments in life don't take well to description. My first baseball game, finally perfecting the art of riding a bike (I say art since a few friends, okay one, still don't know how) and finding some sort of artistry you excel at all fit in this category. I have been fortunate enough to have more than my fair share recently.

First, a religious ceremony. I had the great honor of attending a confirmation for Jackie's younger brother this morning. Objections to having a sever-year-old "choose" to commit his life to God aside, something in the ceremony gives off a sense of tradition rarely found in modern society. The miniature cathedrals that Catholics call their houses of worship were once described by my step-dad when he said he "may disagree with the Catholic doctrine, but man do they know how to make a building look and feel like God's own presence." Such a setting combined with a reverent ceremony, and I am still reeling. I have had my own personal struggles with faith, but inside the walls of a Catholic church, I can no more deny the presence of something beyond my life than I can take flight. The building alone is too honorific of God to be treated with any less respect.

Second, sports. Rivalries make up the core purpose of sports, just ask anyone from Big Blue or Red, a Tarheel or a Blue Devil, or the Raiders and. . . everyone else in the NFL. I am a San Jose, California, native. My entire life, with the exception of a four year stint in San Diego, has been lived within a five mile radius of the city. And yet, I can't seem to muster home town pride in our sports. Stanford, while not technically in San Jose, is hated by locals for their "city upon a hill" mentality. Something about those Cardinal wearing preps makes the word "snob" come to mind. Lately, I have been the outcast in a sea of teal. . . quacking all the way. Yes, I am a Ducks fan, and yes, we are kicking San Jose's ass. I have also been punched in the face twice, when I wasn't looking, for quacking. Yet, quack I do. I don't think I could stop even if I wanted to at this point. From here on out I have been branded the "Ducks fan," and if I stop, the mocking ensues. So I will quack until the Ducks lose to Detroit. Quack.

Finally, the professional world. I must first state that I am technically not allowed to give legal advice (strange that I advised myself on that), so don't ask. That said, my Mom always asks, especially now that I have a sliver of knowledge. I was questioned about a provision in my grandfather's lease on an automotive property, and whether he or the tenant was responsible for maintenance. The answer was simple. To me. Not her. For the first time, I utilized the skills I have honed over a year to aid my family. Not to be too "Italian," but helping the family takes up a large part of my purpose in attending law school. It felt great. I spoke with my Mom later about the feeling I got, and she said it reminded her of the first time she cut hair. My dad felt the same calling in managing a team, my brother in building his first computer, Jackie in teaching a class, and every other successful person in their experience as a professional for the first time. Who knows, maybe I am in the right career path.

These three events, all of which occurred in the past 24 hours, all give me a general rule: we should strive to create moments where we are fortunate enough to witness a commitment that will hopefully become an integral pillar of a person's life, give us a legitimate reason to get fired up, or give a sense of satisfaction could not be achieved in any other way. Root, even when it might get you hit. Walk into the church and have a talk with God, even if your relationship with the big man has cooled. Use your talents to find happiness. 

Happiness, after all, may be more rare than we think. Or, maybe, it just doesn't come about without effort.