Law School & Bar Exam: The Aftermath

Two weeks ago I completed the bar exam in Jefferson City.  I am still not sure if I have quite recovered yet.  I'm still getting migranes and pain behind my eyes which I never had problems with before the bar exam.  Law school and this bar exam, together, were the hardest things I've ever done to this point.  I'm glad it's in the rearview mirror and I should find out the results come mid-September.  eeek! I'm crossing my breath and holding my fingers!


Disclaimer: Law school and the bar are not at all to be confused with the hardest thing I've ever faced. (See my earlier post)


The last three years of my life have been singularly dedicated to pursuit of a law degree.  In fact, I realize now my pursuit of the law goes back many years before then.  I participated in the National Hispanic Institute YLC Debate which steered me to believe I had the talent to pursue something other than sports and that I had a voice that I could use. The fact that we won in mock trial, took home the trophy, combined with watching "My Cousin Vinny" made me think I could maybe consider law as a career. 



Furthermore, I had always read the newspaper (and never wanted to throw these historical records away - my past roomates can attest to this), watched the news, and I have been abnormally interested in politics and world events.  For a full year in 2000 I scrapped together my favorite newspaper clippings until I noticed that this put me more in line with being a serial killer or kidnapper for ransom than I would have liked. 

For many years I scrapped together newspaper clippings!

  

I came to realize that these interests had one thing in common: the law!  99% of the news is related to the law and lawmakers.  So I managed to graduate high school, study political science at KU where I learned obscure theories: Machiavellian's better to be loved than feared, Confucious' virtues, Adam Smith's invisible hand to Karl Marx' chains he wanted to lose, Hobbes and Locke, Socrates, Plato, Seneca, Liberation Theology, Arrow's Theory, Conflict Theory, Game Theory, and I think Conspiracy Theory too.  I interned in various capacities for Governor Kathleen Sebelius, Rep. Dennis Moore, and with the Kansas Hispanic & Latino American Affairs Commission. 

I went to Washington, DC to strut my stuff and put my newfound knowledge to practice.  I worked to change the world through changing laws!  While there, I worked for lawyers and worked everyday to influence lawmakers!  Unfortunately, explaining to Senator Kit Bond that Adam Smith was wrong didn't move him an inch.  The biggest lesson I learned was what really happens to good public policy...politics!



I did not, however,  lose my faith that I could influence the system and challenge the man, but I did leave the life I knew in Washington and jump with both feet into law school! I willingly decided to live in poverty, take out loans, and as a famous defense secretary once said, "you go to law school with the swag you have, not the swag you might want or wish to have." 

I'm not sure if I ever really mastered the language of the law that first year, but I did learn that this law school thing was no joke, there was no turning back, and that failure was not an option. 

Thus, I also learned very quickly the power of saying "no," and I embraced it.  I said no to most community events, restricted my traveling, did not pursue some of my greatest passions of organizing/lobbying/concert jazz flute playing, greatly limited my socializing, and did not make great efforts to make new friends, hang out with old ones. I did not seek to be popular amonst my classmates and mostly kept out of trouble and to myself.  I felt being even marginally involved with law school activities would take my eyes off the prize. 

These are 35 reasons that kept me out of trouble! (only about half of the books pictured)

Well, I did what I had to do and I'm happy to say it paid off!  I earned my Juris Doctor from the UMKC School of Law in May!

So hard not even Harry S. Truman could do it

There were moments I wondered if I'd ever have my photo appear here & I wondered if I would maintain my jet black panther hair.

Unfortunately, passing your classes and graduating only takes you so far.  The dreaded bar exam still stands in the way between graduating law school and becoming a lawyer.  No license...no soup for you!  Thus, I did what I had to do all over again: said goodbye to friends, limited my socializing to almost zero, drank 3,254,921 cups of coffee, and studied on average about 14 hours a day during the month of July.  I will post a full bar exam edition closer to results day (which I think is September 14).  Come good news or bad, I gave it my best shot!  I have used these past few weeks to relax as much as possible, read for enjoyment, and as you already know, start a blog.  I will be cold-calling friends, reconnecting with people I've neglected, getting involved, and showing my face more around this town. 

As this post is getting quite long, I'll end it by sharing with you how I recently relieved some stress.  

Kansas boy done spent too much time in Missourah!

The .22's only made it to around page 650 in case you're wondering. The shrapnel tore apart the "demurrer" and "forum non conveniens" sections so I hope I won't be needing to use those during my career...

Before



After: Felt quite good to strike back! Federal Rules of Civil Procedure (Est. 1938 - Making law students cry for 73 years) 



Lastly, went to Kanrocksas and Muse kicked ass!  I now have a resistance song (above) just in case those apes from that movie really take over!

Wisdom Of Our Fathers: Pride!

On December 28th, 2010 I had a conversation with my dad about law school, my future, and life in general (I'm not yet ready to share the "life in general" part).  I told my father then that law school was the toughest thing I had ever done.  I explained the bell curve grading system, how most of your grade depends on one final test, and how I had to put my all into my studies just to get the modest results I managed to receive.

I also told him about the rigors that awaited with the bar exam and the uncertain direction my legal career could take me.  He responded by telling me that he was proud of me, that I should not get too stressed out, nor get down on myself, and he finished with his usual, "God bless you boy." 

My father then relayed to me the various labor intensive jobs he performed to provide for his parents, his siblings, and eventually his wife and children.  My dad discontinued his education after the second grade for one predominate reason: he needed to work to help raise his siblings.  He was too young to perform labor on his own at such a young age, so he assisted his father out in the fields.  Once able, he picked cotton and fruit as a young teenager, sleeping out in the fields sometimes and working his back to a point where he could not straighten it out after day’s end.  But he would wake up the next morning and do it all over again.  He started working in the sulfur mines at age 16, worked in construction, cleaning bathrooms, worked as a pipe welder, truck driver, and lastly as an upholsterer.  

I had heard my father tell of his struggles before, but that evening his stories hit me moreso than usual.  I needed to hear them, and the stories lifted me up.  They drove home to me once again that I would not be in any position to make it to the finish line if it weren't for this man, my father.  He sacrificed so I could be within striking distance of my educational dream.  He worked from sun up til past sundown, seven days a week, so that I could have a better life than the one he had.  I wrote on facebook that same evening that I would dedicate my last semester to my father.

At the time of the conversation, nobody had any idea what was coming right around the corner.  In mid-January, my dad went to his primary care doctor.  By late January, he was diagnosed with cancer.  By the end of January, my dad was on the operating table. 

On January 31^st, my dad has his first surgery.  As only one family member was allowed in the preparation room, I was chosen to go back there with him.  I got to meet the doctors, talk to the nurses, and interpret questions my dad had from Spanish to English.  As the final preparations began, I stepped out of the room and rejoined my family.  A nurse came out shortly thereafter and looked our family over.  As we all zeroed in our attention toward the nurse, she asked:  “Which one of you is going to be a lawyer?”  Everyone paused.  “I am,” I responded, as though all the eyes directing her to me towards me did not give me away.  She said, “Well, your father is very proud of you!” 

My father was/is proud of me!  What every son seeks and some never receive was already in the bag. 

Did I already know this prior to that day?  Yes.  I had many reasons to believe my father was proud of me.  Owners of local bars (where my dad frequented and used to clean house at the pool table) never failed to relay the message that all my dad would do is talk about me while kicking ass at the pool table.  He would share the things I was doing and absolutely and unashamedly gloat about them.  But for him to think of me and show pride in me just before his surgery made the timing on this day as emotionally charged as ever. 

The nurse continued, “Gregorio said: ‘My son graduated from KU in political science, worked for the governor, has been all over the world and is in his last year of law school at UMKC.  He’s smart…Like me!!’”  Then he was wheeled out for surgery.  As he passed by, I could only muster the words that I never said enough and wish I could tell him a million times over: “I love you dad!” 

Breaking My Silence

(Oh boy, here we go! Although the next few paragraphs will be written with a heavy heart, therapy session #1 is about to begin). 

Four months ago, on April 7^th, my father drew his last breath after a valiant fight with bladder cancer.  The world was blessed with 68 years of life, laughs, teachings, leadership by example, and the absolute hardest work ethic you ever saw.  In the last few months, many of you have asked how I’m doing.  Mostly I respond that “I’m doing ok." This response has felt the most appropriate and since it has usually gotten me on to the next subject, I went with it time and time again (nobody wants to be the party-pooper!).  "Ok" does not mean I'm doing great but it also doesn't mean I have become incapacitated.  I am still me, but before I write another post, allow me to break the silence as to my current emotional status. 

The truth is, this remains the hardest thing I have ever faced.  My brother, mother, and I are still in a day-by-day grieving process.  We have banded together, become closer, and have pulled each other up if one of us feels particularly down or in disbelief that Dad is no longer here.  So soon after Dad’s death the calendar decided to cruelly frontload many events that my father would have loved to have been a part of: Easter, Father’s Day, Mother’s Day, my graduation from law school, his grandson Paulie’s baptism (this month), and four birthdays: mine, my mother’s, grandson Cruzie’s, and grandson Paulie’s).  

*Not to mention Dad would have loved the beautiful family gatherings we had for his novenario (especially with the presence of his brothers and sisters from Mexico). 

You never know your true strength until you have no other choice but to be strong.  The sorrow has not yet entered into the realm of the past tense; it is still very present.  I have mostly looked inward, towards family, and towards faith for strength during these tough times.  Personally, I have relied on my own sense of humor (I should mention my humor comes from my dad who was always making people laugh) to break my mood if I am feeling particularly down. 

This year has been anything but easy for me and my life seems to have moved at a 100 mph pace since my father’s death.  It is often said that there is a feeling of comfort in remaining busy.  I felt something alright, but the workload I faced hit me more like a ton of bricks.  On top of the many arrangements a family must prepare to bury a loved one and the emotional toll a loss of this magnitude inflicts (I would describe it if words could do it justice), I became backlogged with work at my job and with my studies.  I worked around the clock to graduate law school on time with my classmates.  Luckily, I received extensions to complete my assignments and final papers.  However, the day I finished my last paper was the day before bar exam preparation began and I pushed myself to my utmost limits to show up prepared for that dreaded test. 

Some have commented to me that they don't know how I pulled it all together.  A few teachers and administrators were doubtful as well as to whether I could pull it off.  An option was presented (and strongly suggested) to me that I delay graduation and perhaps not take the bar exam this summer.  This, to me, seemed like the “curl up like a rollie pollie” option.  I was having none of it!  The one constant thought I had was that my dad would not have wanted me to let his death disable me.  So, I studied through the tears, I fought the loss of concentration due to thoughts of my father during every single final exam, wrote my papers, and found the will to study all summer and about 14 hours a day throughout July (despite headaches and eye strain) to whip myself into shape for the bar exam.

Before anyone thinks I am some Azteca warrior Mexican version of He-Man , you should first have a conversation with my pillow.  For lack of a more eloquent way to put this, it sucks! Bad!  I am incredibly saddened by the events my dad has not and will not get to see.  Paulie is taking his first steps this week and Cruzie played his first summer of tee-ball.  I even get saddened thinking about future events that may or may not even happen in my life for thoughts that my dad won't be there to see them.  I still think about my dad over 10 times each day before I even have lunch, and honestly, it has not been so long since the days I’ve not cried have outnumbered the days I have. 

I can’t believe it has been 4 months.  For better or for worse, one decision I made and stuck to is that I have not relied on many of my closest friends for support.  There are too many of you to name but knowing you are there, hearing your messages, seeing your support through emails, texts, and facebook postings has helped me cope more than you could ever imagine.  I have read every word of every message and posting.  I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your offers of support.  My lack of reliance on you is mostly a reflection that I feel I must test my ability to rely on the one person who’s going to have to deal with me the rest of my life: Me!  Furthermore, as will be explained in future postings, my dad prepared me my whole life for these post-dad moments. 

I have recently checked out “Wisdom from our Fathers” by the late Tim Russert.  Oh boy...hearing the stories of people talk about their fathers has been tough to digest for me, but it has already inspired an idea! On (or around) the seventh day of each month I will be blogging a nugget of wisdom that my dad has instilled in me or a heartfelt memory I will carry with me for the rest of my days.  The first will be in my next posting scheduled for Wednesday!  For now, here is a beautiful photo of my dad (this edition by Arlene Hinojosa is different from the other version on my Facebook page and has never before been released.  Thanks again Arlene!).  Below the photo is the last song I karaoked and a song that I have listened to many many times as a message I know my dad would have wanted me to embrace: that I should not stop living my life, and I should live it to the fullest and as though I were dying!

I love you old man!  I miss you dearly and I pray you are up there watching and smiling down on us.  Until we meet again, rest in peace!

  

Gregorio Cruz Rico
    3/12/1943 - 4/7/2011    
  Rest in Peace

  

So, now that you're here....

Thank you for visiting my blog! 


Be sure to check back often, comment, provide feedback, and of course provide criticism of my opinions.  Challenging my point of view is the best way for me sharpen my beliefs or maybe even change course (highly unlikely).  As much as this blog will post personal thoughts, ideas, and opinions of my creation, I'd also like to dedicate this blog to interesting things and events  that are going on out there too: locally/nationally, philanthropic/local business oriented, activist/laid back, political/comical (most times a distinction without a difference), funny/serious, and seriously funny.  If you have something you'd like to promote or an article/human interest piece/event you'd like to make people aware of, let me know.  I don't charge too much for my promotional fees (free entry, a Mexican beer, and 2/3rds the proceeds usually suffice).   Am I not merciful!


If I don't agree with your comments, expect a response.  If you don't like me as a result of this blog, Tony Montana (who also influenced the title of this blog) wants to let you know how it is, who put this blog together, and who it is that I trust to be a good steward of my own worldly opinions: 


Why is this blog being created?  Well, I have idle time on my hands after having just graduated from law school and completing the Missouri bar exam.  I often find myself wanting to comment on so many things I see going on out there on the evening news, the internet, newspapers, from talking to people, or while enjoying a beer from the front porch.  A blog seems the best medium to lay bare my thoughts pre-emptively, in an uncensored way, and outside of the 140 character limitation many have willingly chosen to confine themselves to.  I will use this blog personally as a way of developing my creative and journalistic writing skills while discussing topics of interest to me and hopefully to you too. 


What's my niche?  I'm a young Latino born in the heart of Kansas City, Kansas' predominately Latino Barrio of Argentine.  Somehow, despite the many temptations to veer off course, let circumstances dictate my actions, or fall through the cracks, I've managed to navigate my life towards something I'm on the cusp of being proud of.  I am still struggling to find out what and where I want to be when I grow up.  I'm still striving to live the American Dream on that path blazed by those who came before me, and I'm still hoping to make my small mark on the world while seeking ultimate self-fulfillment in the process.  Those of you who know me well know that I am not short on opinions, ramble at times, but can and have held my own intellectually with everyone I've encountered thus far.  I am an emotional introvert seeking extroversion, more of a mama's boy than not, and to sum it up: I became a gentle nerd from a rough barrio, and there's no going back now.  

Lastly, it has been said that experience is a great teacher.  On that measure, I can say I have learned a lot during my time on this wonderful world, wish I were ignorant of many of these life lessons, and in a small way this blog will also serve as my written therapy to shout my joyous, painful, and personal thoughts to you.  Here's to one more attempt at finding my voice! 
I'm grateful if you have gotten this far!  Sit back, hold tight, and lets learn about each other and maybe, just maybe, if we're lucky, we'll even learn a little something about ourselves! Ha!