(I love this photo booth shot of Dad)
(the letter below is from '75 or '76 when I was in New York and awaiting word on law schools)
Dear Peter and Vickie,
It is Friday, the last day before one week off to touch my boat. I am hearing a custody fight. 3 beautiful children K, 6 [and] 7th grade. Papa was a Baptist minister who brought a 21 year old into the house. Had neglected mama for years -- presto -- she found out [there was another] woman.
Out of 8 lawyers she tried to hire only one would . . . take the case because the husband was a minister and the Judge was Baptist. Up-State New York.
Two years later they are in the sunshine state and I have 3 kids who swallowed the Bible, blame mama, [but?] won't say a word against her.
Oh well the job pays well and I must like playing God or I would go into another line.
I never tried the stage. I act well in court. I love audience response. Upon retirement I will take up the guitar or try the nite club circuit with topical jokes and soft shoe. Just imagine the octogenarian groupies I would attract. . .
I am teaching again at LaVerne Law School (Children's Rights) and have a job teaching psychology and the law at Claremont Grad School. Lawyers must make lousy teacher -- we were never exposed to any classes on how to just about what was in Early England.
This letter is to say, Relax, you have love - I love you - the future is uncertain and exciting. What is past is part of a treasure of memories and only the shining pebbles on that beach need to be taken out and fondled.
p.s. 1-glass of wine for lunch; if the dour Baptists scowling at me from the audience knew --