The Last Buffalo
By Tom Dickson
Inquiry Committee Meeting
Well , as Yogi Berra said , “ it ’ s déjà vu ... all over again .” Here again . He told me I had to come . Try not to talk too much . I don ’ t know . Seems kind of petty to me . Everything is such a big deal these days .
He says it is a big deal . So , I am here . Once again , a tempest in a teapot . Where did all these rules come from ?
Another oversized stuffy conference room . Surrounded by lawyers … young lawyers . Couple of civilians ... hard to tell which is which . Where did all these women come from ? This is not even a courtroom . There is no jury of my peers . Not even a judge . Just a bunch of little judges .
I try to explain this latest one . The new secretary did not work out . Not my fault . I am a trial lawyer . I don ’ t do filing . Not my job . Her job . But now , her fault is my fault . Her mistake , my mistake . An unforced error if anything . No harm , no foul . I ’ m a trial lawyer . Not a secretary . I try cases . Anybody in this room ever tried a case ? My lawyer has . It sure would help if he said something . What ’ s up with him ? I always thought he was overrated . This room is large , and it is very lonely .
No one seems to be listening . No eye contact . Lots of scribbling on their note pads . Not even yellow legal pads . iPads . Never had one . Never will .
What is the complaint this morning ? Seriously , that is a rule violation ? What exactly is that person saying ?
Do they want me to quit ? I ’ m too old ? The disciplinary counsel sounds like my daughter . Yeah ... well , I ’ m not moving to Arizona . Arizona ... one big parking lot lined with palm trees . Pickleball … for Christ sakes . Pickleball . I track wounded deer through the early winter snow . I don ’ t play pickleball .
I ’ m still in good shape . Lots of hair . Have I stayed too long ? Have I lost a step . Everybody does . It ’ s not just me . It happened to Tom Brady . Looks like we ’ re about done here . Don ’ t know what else to say . This room never warmed up . No friendly faces . My lawyer pats me on the back . Not a reassuring pat . More like a farewell . Adios Amigo .
They all talk about climbing the mountain . Climb the mountain ! Reach the summit . “ Because it ’ s there ,” said Edmund Hillary . But climbing is the easy part . It ’ s the coming down that is hard . Every minor misstep potentially fatal .
They sing that there is a season for everything :
“ A time to plant , a time to reap A time to kill , a time to heal A time to laugh , a time to weep ”
But no one sings for a time to quit . No one .
It may be true there is a time for every season . But autumn is mostly a wish in North Dakota . And I am long past autumn . Winter comes without drums and bugles . And now , it has come for me . Hemingway was right . Bad things come in two ways : gradually and then suddenly .
My daughter says I am the last buffalo on the prairie . Maybe she ’ s right . Just another relic from another time . I have tried cases all over the state . Probably a dozen or more in Hettinger County . Many times , I have sat beneath that painting waiting for a verdict . I think the artist got it right . There are no more buffalo on the prairie .
I could use a few friends . Most are gone now . They are the lucky ones . Most of the rest moved to Arizona . Poor bastards .
I have been a trial lawyer for more than 50 years . Lyndon Johnson was president when I started . Never voted for him . I liked Goldwater . Trying cases is the only thing I was ever good at . The one true love of my life . At least that ’ s what my wives told me . All three of them .
10 THE GAVEL