The headline today in the Courier-Journal reports a sharp–even shocking –decline in law school applications for the three KY law schools: 60% at UL and 40% at UK and NKU over the past 3 years. And this decline follows national trends for law school applicants.
The verdict? A law school education and the debt incurred to complete it is no longer as good an investment as it once was given the current market crunch for new attorneys and the projected income for those who do find legal work.
That is simple math and, frankly, a bursting of the law school bubble, so to speak, has been long overdue.
But for someone who is a graduate of law school myself and works both inside and outside of a law firm, I would like to make a personal and emotional plea to those who are considering law school but for whom the math doesn’t quite add up.
First, it’s not just about the math. To paraphrase former President Clinton’s famous 1992 campaign slogan, “It’s the education, stupid.” I know that is easy to say for someone like me who went to law school over 20 years ago when tuition was a fraction of what it is today. But I contend a legal education shouldn’t be a decision like investing in a stock in a mutual fund. It is about something far more personal; more intangible; more defining. A law school education is stepping up and putting yourself on the line as you attempt to go through one of the most intellectually challenging, invigorating and gratifying rites of passage that exists in the world of higher education. (And, yes, you learn to write long-winded and dense run-on sentences like the one I just wrote.) But there are many other benefits, too.
When I was an undergraduate student I went to see a movie with a couple of older students and a newly minted attorney. After the movie I asked the attorney what law school was like and how he liked being a lawyer. He said practicing law wasn’t that enjoyable but “being a lawyer” was great. He added, “You just don’t get intimidated by others or put people on pedestals.” He pointed to a TV with President Reagan speaking and added, “I wouldn’t even be intimidated if I were in a small group of people talking to President Reagan.”
That conversation obviously left an impression on me. And it wasn’t from the comment about not enjoying practicing law. I wanted to be able to have a conversation with a President and not be reduced to mush. That happened to me 3 years after I graduated law school and I got to meet President Bill Clinton while he was campaigning in KY for re-election. He was still the President but he was also now–to me—just “a law school graduate.” Like me. And I stood confidently and initiated a short, pleasant and sensible exchange.
But these benefits are only some of the, shall we say, shallower benefits of going to law school. Law school, after tearing you down, does eventually build you back up and boost your confidence. Somewhere late in my first year of law school, I decided, “I had what it takes to be a lawyer.” I had completed a long and difficult assignment and was recognized with an award for my work. I felt catapulted to a whole new level. I went from being a successful college student with a liberal arts degree to someone who was capable of doing important things in the grown-up world.
The day I was offered my first summer internship at a top Kentucky law firm, I cheered alone in my apartment as wildly as I did when UK’s men’s basketball team nearly made the Final Four two years later. Except mine was a victory. A voice inside me —one quieted by the rejection letters from several top law firms earlier that week—roared, a little that day. Or maybe was born. And that inner voice has stayed with me and served me well in periods of self-doubt.
Still and all, attending law school is a very personal and tumultuous life decision. How does one know how to make this decision? I can’t offer a clear-cut guide. I suspect the decision is akin to the decision made by a mountain climber when staring at the highest mountain he or she has ever faced. In the end, they climb it because it is there and that’s what mountain climbers feel compelled to do. This statement, I suspect, will spark a good deal of disagreement. But I will stand by it in the broadest sense.
Put another way, if you are intellectually curious and interested in institutions like government, business, economics, and community and drawn to ideals like justice and fairness, truth and reason –then you are likely an intellectual mountain climber. And need a mountain to climb that’s worth climbing. And law school, I believe, is a worthy mountain to climb.
Legal education is a process that stretches all your intellectual faculties and then hones them in a forceful and focused manner. It may suffocate some creativity but when you are finished, you’ll feel the three years in the legal laboratory helped you be, intellectually, “All you can be.,” as the Army used to promise. Students get whipped into shape through a form of intellectual boot camp. And that process provides an intangible value that can’t be easily quantified or measured on a spreadsheet alongside an entry level banking or finance position that pays the same as the average attorney, including law school, over a 10 year period. Some things just aren’t made to fit into a spreadsheet cell. But they still matter. Maybe a lot. Possibly even a whole lot.
A legal education, I contend, is the best educational preparation for most any profession outside of a technical or scientific specialty. I also have an MBA and am grateful for that education. My business education, if I had to describe it quickly, was “informative” but my legal education was “transformative.” And legal training has been useful to me in all my different and varied occupations–from start up businesses to corporate executive to elected official to practicing attorney to consultant and lobbyist and to adjunct college professor and whatever else may lie ahead. Whatever I am doing in 20 years, if I am still alive, I will owe To some extent, to my legal education. Even if I am a professional fly fisherman. I will at least be an orderly and logical one who is trying to be better than the fly fisherman down river–who didn’t go to law school. (Yes, you will be forever competitive about even the most trivial things thanks to law school. But you were already wired up that way. Law school just ran the electricity through your wiring and lit up your competitiveness more than you ever wanted others to see.
And I believe that those who believe the intrinsic value of a legal education is actually quantifiable are the same people who believe everything is quantifiable (and probably would have been better off taking more liberal arts courses in college). The intrinsic value of a legal education isn’t something with clear contours and can’t even be articulated clearly. But this intrinsic value does become part of a completeness you feel about yourself when you are sitting alone and wonder if you have asked enough of yourself. Sound hokey? Perhaps a little. But “hokey” matters more than we want to admit when we are young–especially when we are trying to seem together but don’t quite feel it yet inside
And then there is the practical benefit of networking that law school provides. If you attend a Kentucky law school you will be in a class with many of Kentucky’s future leaders in their legal, business and political community. You are exposed not only to your class but the two classes ahead of you and behind you. And within 5-10 years you’ll find yourself with “friends” (former classmates) who are now serving as judges and law partners and heads of local organizations or corporate executives and business people as well as elected officials all across our 120 county state. The guy you sat next to in Torts I and wouldn’t dare ask to borrow notes from now has his own courtoom. And his older sister two years ahead of you in law school is now in the state legislature. And you all will belong to the same club they do: Law school graduate
The club or fraternity (or sorority), exists as the result of successfully enduring a common endeavor that at first seems like an overwhelming challenge. But proves not to be. And along the way, you learn your limits –and capabilities. You learn the extraordinary capabilities of others. You face yourself as you really are. And you surprise yourself with what you are capable of doing. I remember during my second year of law school asking a fellow law student I worked with the summer before, John Roach, “How can we possibly finish these assignments? There is no way we can complete all these projects in the short time we have!” I waited anxiously for John to provide a reassuring strategy as he always seemed to do. But this time he didn’t. He just shrugged and answered, “We have to do it. We don’t have any choice.” That is law school in a nutshell. And you somehow get it all done. Because you have to and don’t have a choice.
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, there are deep friendships that develop. My first summer internship I worked in a narrow corridor of carrels that was closed off to the rest of the law firm. We were a bunch of nervous and hard working ambitious young people whose private grandiose plans were counter balanced by our secret fear that we would eventually not amount to much of anything. But we were impressed enough with each other that we started to figure maybe we had more going for us than we thought. And the more we got to know each other the better it made each of us.
That summer I sat next to Robert Weir, who later was one of the best men in my wedding, and is now a U.S Magistrate Judge and finished first in our law school class. Behind me was John Roach, who was general counsel to a governor and served on Kentucky’s Supreme Court and who now has his own thriving private law practice. Next to Robert was Matt Nelson, who ranked among the top 5 in our class and seemed to plow through writing legal briefs like a champion swimmer swims through the water in a meet. Next to Matt was Will Montague, a trusted and long-time friend who has been a successful partner at several of the state’s top law firms and now has his own firm. And across from Will was John Butler, a lovable guy from Green Co, Kentucky who left the law to coach high school basketball instead, breaking the long family tradition of practicing law but boldly and bravely choosing the life he wanted instead —and with all of our blessings and full personal support. And there were other extraordinary people, classmates, who filled up those remaining nondescript but hallowed (to me anyway) carrels making up that narrow corridor of law school interns.
The next summer my closest friend was David Hale, who became Kentucky’s U.S Attorney and is now the nominee for US District Court Judge. And Ben Fultz, who now has his own thriving law firm starting with his last name. And I have had an interesting, rewarding and diverse career myself and have many of these individuals to thank for helping me along the way, personally and professionally. And each of these individuals are, I dare say, friends for life. Even if we go long periods without seeing or talking to one another. And the same can be said with most every other law student in our class who I sidled up next to as we slogged together through the arduous law school mountain climb.
This Sunday afternoon before last I was out driving with my family and got a call from an old and dear law school friend. The call was to tell me of the members or our “corridor group” from the summer of 1990, had taken his life. Although our group hadn’t spoken in weeks or months –or in some cases even years– we quickly lined up as though it were late August in 1990. With our spouses and graying and thinning hair and paunchier midsections, we stood together on a hillside in the rain and watched one of our dear friends be laid to rest.
I hadn’t seen Robert Wier since his investiture ceremony several years earlier. I patted him on the back and hugged him and he hugged me back. He was from Benham, Kentucky and told me shortly after we met, “I thought I wouldn’t like you at all, John. I assumed you’d be a spoiled entitled jerk. But you turned out to be just the opposite. After getting to know you, I now think of you as one of the very best people I’ve ever known.” I consider that passing comment from Robert many years ago, perhaps the highest compliment I’ve ever received in my life. But we were now back in the present and it was nice to be standing next to my friend again after far too many years. I whispered, “I figured they’d have a special seat for you today, Judge.” Robert’s eye’s gleamed as they always had as he smiled warmly, “I’m just hoping to stay balanced on the side of this hill like everybody else.”
After the funeral, many of those from our original summer group and many other former fellow law students, huddled together and talked, and laughed, and talked some more. it was never said, but clear that we were grateful to have each other.. We tried to put together an impromptu lunch but everyone seemed too busy to make it work on the spur of the moment. We promised to get together for lunch sometime soon but probably won’t. But in law school I was taught the perils of ever assuming anything. So maybe we will get together for lunch soon. I hope so.
I hugged John Roach goodbye and thanked him for always “stepping up” in our group. I told him, “If my car broke ever down at 3am and I had only one phone call to make, I would call you. Because I know you’d be there as quickly as you could. There would be a long lecture for me to endure and you would make some good points. But mostly, you would just be there. And I thank you for that.”
I hugged and shook hands with others and waived goodbye and within minutes I was on a conference call and whisked back into my old and own little world. But as I drove away I felt a familiar rush. But not the rush that I could do anything or was finally good enough. But the mature rush of feeling grateful to be part of a special group of special people and honored to call each of them my friend—22 years after law school.
Was that feeling –and all the experiences I just tried to relate— worth the tuition? Were they worth the time and toil? Were they worth all the debt incurred?
Hell yes they were! Every penny. Every moment. Everything.
Perhaps, you might think, this is my conclusion because I believe that the decision of whether to go to law school isn’t mostly about the math. And if you think it mostly a decision about the math, you probably shouldn’t go law school.
But if you see value in the law school experience beyond merely the questionable spreadsheet analysis of “investment dollars” versus “future projected income,” then pack your mountain climbing gear and head up to the base of the mountain. They will be holding a place for you. But sign in quickly so you don’t lose your place. And get ready for an experience of a lifetime that you will be glad you didn’t miss—and one day not be able to imagine your life without.
Am I an idealist? I suppose I am. At least a little bit. And I hope I always will have that small flickering flame of idealism. Idealists never let a little fuzzy math get in the way of a greater cause. And if I can look back on my life and feel that I have succeeded in keeping that flame alive, I will have my law school education, in large part, to thank.
Whatever you thought of the live ‘Sound of Music’ starring Carrie Underwood, it was still commendable for a number of reasons, including exposing country fans to musical theatre, and showing people who’d only seen the movie the numbers & scenes that were cut from it. (Not that Julie Andrews wasn’t adorable, but in the movie the Captain dumps Baroness Schraeder just because of one dance with his employee, which is sort of creepy. In the actual musical, Schraeder turns out to be a Nazi appeaser, and possibly a sympathizer, which is a slightly better reason . . .)
Dinner conversation topics in my home can vary from the serious to the mundane. My kids (all pre-teens and teenagers) still communicate with me in more than a series of grunts. They acknowledge each other’s existence. It’s fantastic. Imagine my chagrin when we spent a whole meal discussing their fears for my well-being. My kids are pretty aware of the world around them. They listen to and read the news. They also have a clear understanding of what I do every day. So, when they hear about health care workers who have contracted Ebola in Texas, it is no giant leap for them to worry about and for me. As a hospital-based health care worker in a city rich with citizens who hail from hundreds of countries, it is likely that there will be many Ebola scares close to home in the near future. I practice in a hospital that was at the epicenter of the SARS outbreak in Toronto in 2003. While my children were too young at the time to remember it, they have heard about it and have even seen the movies-of-the-week that were based on it.
I remember the first child who had contracted SARS from family members who had already succumbed to the disease. When that child was admitted to hospital, my colleagues and I (all young professionals with young children, except for one single guy) looked at one another and tried to decide who would don the N-95 mask, gown, face-shield and gloves and care for the patient. Those early days in the outbreak were filled with many questions but few answers. We were faced every day with new instructions and new rules about how we were supposed to be screened, to protect ourselves and to care for our patients. One of my colleagues, the unmarried physician in our group, selflessly volunteered to expose himself to that first patient so that the rest of us could minimize our risk to ourselves and to our young families. We all remained healthy throughout the SARS outbreak, which lasted for several months but the memories of working in those conditions are still quite vivid.
Now, my children are old enough to understand what might happen with Ebola. They are concerned for me, and for the fallibility of PPE (personal protective equipment). They ask me about resource allocation, too. What will happen if there are not enough ventilators or ICU beds for all the sick patients? Who will decide who receives intensive care and how will those decisions be made? Are all states and provinces approaching preparedness in a consistent fashion?
These are all excellent questions. Unfortunately, no one yet has those answers. The real risk of an Ebola outbreak in North America is low. However, past experience suggests that we will have to be prepared so that if there is an outbreak, we will have the answers to my kids’ questions before we need them.
The other day a woman complained she didn’t know how to handle a guy who’d treated her like something under his shoe. He didn’t call, didn’t pay attention to her life or any of the issues she was facing at work or with her family. He pretty much just talked, and cared, about himself.
But she couldn’t seem to get over him.
He called again, wanted to get together.
“Should I see him?” She asked me.
The answer was obvious. Every time she’d given in – and it had happened plenty – the same pattern played out. He was considerate and nice for a week or two, then went back to the same old routine of ignoring her needs and focusing entirely on himself.
I told her she needed greater wisdom than I could summon. She needed to listen to Barry Manilow.
You probably have some sort of opinion regarding the creative output of Barry Manilow – which is to say you probably either love his music or you hate it.
If you love it – really, really love it – then you’re a “fanilow,” a Barry Manilow super-fan.
A friend of mine visited Las Vegas last year with his two elderly aunts, and – mostly to humor them – went to see Barry Manilow play at one of the big resort hotels. He posted his response up on Facebook: “I’m a fanilow!”
He was wowed – like plenty of people who actually go to see this hard-working, talented performer who gives everything he’s got on stage.
Barry loves his fanilows. He thanks them, he signs their programs, he tells them again and again that he owes them everything, that they’re the reason he can keep on performing and doing what he loves. They love him – and he loves them right back.
On the other hand, I read an interview a few years back where the reporter got a bit snarky with Barry, hinting that his music was widely dismissed as camp, mere sugary trash. I don’t remember Barry’s precise words, but he said something like this: “I take my work very seriously, and if you aren’t going to treat it with respect, I’ll end this interview right now.”
He had a point, and he made it. Barry Manilow does what he loves, and there are many people who celebrate him for it. He doesn’t need the haters.
You can learn from Barry Manilow.
Find your fanilows – and hold them tight. Cherish them. Celebrate them as they celebrate you. Those are the people who deserve you in their lives.
The haters? The critics? The people who take you for granted or tear you down? Push them away.
There are plenty of people in this world. You can find some fanilows – starting with yourself. No one loves Barry’s music more than Barry – and that’s exactly how it should be.
Here’s a good ground rule for dating (I call it “the Manilow Rule”): Don’t even consider a relationship with anyone who isn’t a fanilow – your fanilow. If the other person isn’t excited – thrilled – ecstatic –jumping up and down with enthusiasm about a date with you, push him aside and find someone who is.
Be your own biggest fan – and start a fan club.
If you’re hoping he’ll call, he’s not a fanilow. A fan doesn’t leave you wondering – he lets you know you know he’s dying to see you. That’s the guy for you.
Does surrounding yourself with fanilows sound a bit dangerous? A bit too easy? Would it turn you into a self-satisfied egomaniac, unwilling to hear criticism?
It doesn’t have to. I’m sure Barry reads the critics, and he ponders their suggestions. He takes everything into consideration – then he makes his calls, his own decisions about his music and his performances.
You can have a suggestion box, too. And you can invite people to write down their suggestions and stick them in. And you can read them, and consider each and every one on its merits. If they have a problem with you, they can say so, and you’ll listen.
But at the end of the day, you have to make your own calls. You decide who you want to be – your most authentic, best self.
Then you go out into the world, and sort through the haters – and the fanilows.
The haters you can listen to politely, and push aside.
But the fanilows are the ones who celebrate you, and make it possible for you to see what’s best in yourself.
Be good to the fanilows. Treat them like gold.
My new book is a comic novel about a psychotherapist who falls in love with a blue alien from outer space. I guarantee pure reading pleasure: Bad Therapist: A Romance.
Please also check out The People’s Therapist’s legendary best-seller about the sad state of the legal profession: Way-Worse-Than-Being-Dentist
My first book is an unusual (and useful) introduction to the concepts underlying psychotherapy: Life is a Brief Opportunity for Joy
She seemed like my type, too, and I even got this funny feeling in my stomach just watching her.
I am really lucky she is my wife.
Rebecca was in a hurry and couldn’t talk long but I slyly checked her out again as she left.
This is my first “Apology Form” to Rebecca and I checked “Other” for the reason for bad behavior –and wrote I was merely “creating a growth opportunity” for Rebecca.
Rebecca appreciated the effort and felt like it was “a start.”
And asked if I got several pads of Apology Forms for the future.…
Rebecca also noted I put down the wrong date (11/13). I told her I would fill out a new form with the correct date and to just hold on to this one for me to use in mid-November.
Cancer is real and serious concern for us all. The following blog is dedicated to Beth, who bravely battled breast cancer for 14 years, Claude Bowen, Sr who passed away in December from prostate cancer and the many other who have fought cancer head on and never gave up the fight. This is for you.
A word that strikes utter fear in people. And with good reason. As you see below the statistics are staggering. Every year, cancer becomes more and more prominent. In comes in all faces and types, packaged differently to wreak havoc on the human body. This post is not so much about the stats or what causes cancer but what can we do to prevent or slow the progress of this problem. This post is not to show you how smart or not smart I am as it relates to the disease. This about my grandfather, who was 88 years old and is put up the fight of his life against several types of cancer. Over the course of several months, I have saw the personal struggle he went under and the downward spiral of an independent country boy. It took hold of him and it didn’t let go. It is tough to watch but it shows how tough he was to continue to put up a fight against insurmountable odds.
This is also about my beliefs. Something that I often catch strange looks for and snide remarks about. However, I firmly believe in my heart of hearts that all things are possible through fitness. It is our fountain of youth, protector of disease and an absolute must for the human body. My motto is all things through fitness, it is the name of my website and is etched on my skin. I believe it because I have seen it.
I have seen people overcome disease, fight obesity and win, improve their personal lives and overall become better people. Fighting cancer is no different. Fitness plays an important part in the fight with all forms of cancer. Check these statistics from the National Cancer Institute:
Colon Cancer- Many studies in the United States and around the world have consistently found that adults who increase their physical activity, either in intensity, duration, or frequency, can reduce their risk of developing colon cancer by 30 to 40 percent relative to those who are sedentary regardless of body mass index (BMI), with the greatest risk reduction seen among those who are most active.
Breast Cancer-Most studies indicate that physically active women have a lower risk of developing breast cancer than inactive women; however, the amount of risk reduction achieved through physical activity varies widely (between 20 to 80 percent)
Lung Cancer- At least 21 studies have examined the impact of physical activity on the risk of lung cancer. Overall, these studies suggest an inverse association between physical activity and lung cancer risk, with the most physically active individuals experiencing about a 20 percent reduction in risk.
As you can see fitness can dramatically changed the diagnosis and prognosis of cancer. Think about what the statistics would be on people who exercised regularly who got cancer. I stand behind my belief that all things are possible through fitness, fighting cancer is not an exception to that rule. Regardless of activity level cancer affects us all. Our loved ones and even ourselves will be faced with this disease. The struggle and the will to live is the most important.
Through fitness you can fight and win. For those struggling with the disease, continue to fight and never give in. The spirit to beat it and the mindset is all you need. Keep fighting!
Yours in fitness,
National Center for Chronic Disease Prevention and Health Promotion and Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (1996). Physical Activity and Health: A Report of the Surgeon General. Retrieved June 26, 2009, from: http://www.cdc.gov/nccdphp/sgr/sgr.htm.
National Center for Chronic Disease Prevention and Health Promotion and Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (2008). Preventing Obesity and Chronic Diseases Through Good Nutrition and Physical Activity. Retrieved June 26, 2009, from: http://www.cdc.gov/nccdphp/publications/factsheets/Prevention/obesity.htm.
Slattery, ML. Physical activity and colorectal cancer. Sports Medicine 2004; 34(4): 239–252.
IARC Handbooks of Cancer Prevention. Weight Control and Physical Activity. Vol. 6. 2002.
Ballard-Barbash R, Friedenreich C, Slattery M, Thune L. Obesity and body composition. In: Schottenfeld D, Fraumeni JF, editors. Cancer Epidemiology and Prevention. 3rd ed. New York: Oxford University Press, 2006.
Lee I, Oguma Y. Physical activity. In: Schottenfeld D, Fraumeni JF, editors. Cancer Epidemiology and Prevention. 3rd ed. New York: Oxford University Press, 2006.
McTiernan A, editor. Cancer Prevention and Management Through Exercise and Weight Control. Boca Raton: Taylor & Francis Group, LLC, 2006.
Tardon A, Lee WJ, Delgado-Rodriguez M, et al. Leisure-time physical activity and lung cancer: A meta-analysis. Cancer Causes and Control 2005; 16(4):389–397.
Giovannucci EL, Liu Y, Leitzmann MF, Stampfer MJ, Willett WC. A prospective study of physical activity and incident and fatal prostate cancer. Archives of Internal Medicine 2005; 165(9):1005–1010.
Holmes MD, Chen WY, Feskanich D, Kroenke CH, Colditz GA. Physical activity and survival after breast cancer diagnosis. Journal of the American Medical Association 2005; 293(20):2479–2486.
Pinto BM, Frierson GM, Rabin C, Trunzo JJ, Marcus BH. Home-based physical activity intervention for breast cancer patients. Journal of Clinical Oncology 2005; 23(15): 3577–3587.
Meyerhardt JA, Giovannucci EL, Holmes MD, et al. Physical activity and survival after colorectal cancer diagnosis. Journal of Clinical Oncology 2006; 24(22):3527–3534.
If you are like me and plan on doing nothing at all this Sunday, you ought to at least have enough pride to get up early and start right away!
Anything worth doing –even doing nothing –is worth doing well.
Sunday morning vanity conversation leading to disappointment
This morning I was admiring my recent weight loss in the bathroom mirror as my wife and I were getting ready to go out for coffee. After my proud moment of self-satisfaction, I threw on a pair of jeans and wet my hair before combing it and began looking for a shirt.”
My wife walked in the bathroom to explain how our dog Macy was just… showing off to her by proudly holding a spider in her mouth before it dropped out and ran away.
Wanting to change the topic back to my proud weight loss, I pointed to myself and said, “Well, what do you think?”
“What?” Rebecca answered quizzically.
“This.” I responded smugly pointing in a circular motion to my torso area.
“What? You got water on you?”
“No!” I said flustered. “I’ve lost 28 lbs.”
“Oh.” Rebecca responded laughing. “You are acting like Macy showing off having a spider in her mouth.”
“No I’m not.” I said defensively. “I don’t think it’s the same thing at all. First off Macy didn’t lose 28 lbs and, second off, I am not holding anything in my mouth.”
“OK.” Rebecca said laughing to herself.
“Do you have water on you?” I repeated to myself under my breath. “Really?”
“Well, I’m proud of both you and Macy this morning.” Rebecca offered in a consoling voice.
TV Series– 1) Columbo 2) Twilight Zone 3) Beverly Hillbillies
Musical Groups — 1) Steely Dan, 2) Traffic, 3) R.E.M./Pearl Jam/RHCP ( 3-way tie). Honorable mention to Black Crows (Totally cheated on this one. I struggle to be succinct.)
Movies — 1) The Twilight Saga (Not really, of course. I joke. But mostly because my favorites don’t seem very congruent. I just like them a lot) Real favorites: 1) Annie Hall, 2) ‘O Lucky Man, 3) About a 10- way tie but am unsure which 10 movies but might include Pulp Fiction, My Dinner with Andre, Little Miss Sunshine, Raging Bull, The “Up” Documentaries, Magnolia, Goodfellas, American Beauty, Casino, and Gandhi. And had an honorable mention category that included Forest Gump and Owning Mahoney. Drugstore Cowboy and American Hustle. (OK. I really, really cheated on that one. But I love movies.)
Classic books: 1) Inferno, Dante. 2) Odyssey, Homer, 3) Huckleberry Finn, Twain. Honorable mention to Candide, Voltaire and Gulliver’s Travels, Swift. (Didn’t cheat very much on that one.)
Modern books: 1) Tipping Point, Malcolm Gladwell; 2) A New Kind of Mind, Pink 3) World is Flat, Friedman (With not to self to start reading more recent books.)
Best kitchen investments: 1) Nespresso 2) Vitamix, 3) Panini Press,
Worst Kitchen investments; 1) Doughnut maker, 2) Fondue, 3) Snow Cone machine.
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