Ben and Me_ From Temperance to Humility - Cameron Gunn [52]
Finally, I should have tried, even at the risk of serious injury, to involve my family in this adventure. Misery is often borne easier if shared. As it was, I was actively rebuffed in my efforts.
At some point during the evening, Michelle came into the living room, sat in her favorite chair, and noticed that I was sitting in silence, looking as if I were waiting for the dentist.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Not watching television. I’ve decided to be more industrious, and watching TV isn’t useful.”
She looked at me with the sort of weary expression only a spouse can display and sighed. “I thought we weren’t supposed to be part of this. If you don’t want to watch TV, go do it downstairs.”
On Day 1, I could add Banishment to my list of accomplishments.
A Bad Week for Industry
Being a prosecutor in a small town is like being an emergency room physician. You need to have a firm grasp on almost every different type of situation that might present itself, be flexible in your thought processes, get used to the sight of a little blood, and be prepared for some dry spells. My community is very safe. However, there are still enough impaired drivers, wife beaters, shoplifters, convenience store burglars, and occasional murderers to keep all of the local prosecutors in court almost every day during the week. Each day presents a new challenge. My day runs from the tragic to the ridiculous, from the peculiar to the perverse. It is, however, as I said, very rarely boring.
One minute your victim is demanding the accused’s blood, the next they are kissing in the hallway and pronouncing their undying love for each other. A witness one day is an accused the next, and there never seems to be a shortage of things that can go wrong immediately before a trial begins.
In short, those of us in the criminal justice system tend to be seat-of-the-pants types. We thrive on in-the-moment pressure and are not necessarily what you would call self-starters.
As bad luck would have it, my week of Industry coincided with a very slow week for the court system—the midwinter break. Thus, few trials, hearings, or other court activity. How could I be industrious, how could I follow Franklin’s dictate to “Lose no time; be always employed in something useful; cut off all unnecessary actions” when the fates had taken away the very thing that drives my productivity in the first place?
My wise friend Chris had warned me, in our discussions on Industry, not to lose important achievements by being “too busy.” His was an admonition not to lose the moments in the drive.
Maybe I am just too thick to understand. Or perhaps I am too simple to view the admonition to be industrious as anything but a call to work. Whatever the reason, I decided that I would take Franklin’s words literally. I would ensure that I was always employed in something useful.
When I had finished my preparations for the next day’s cases, I knew I needed to remain engaged. I needed to do something that would benefit myself and others. I looked around, drumming my fingers on my desk (at least metaphorically), and wondered exactly what would be a benefit.
I could prepare for future cases, but that seemed too pedestrian. I might work on my book, but given that I was contemplating Industry during work hours—on the taxpayer’s nickel, so to speak—whatever I did should at least be a benefit to said taxpayers. I was at a loss.
You might think, given that the week was to be devoted to Industry and Order and Resolution had already passed, that I might be better prepared. All I can say to such naiveté is that you haven’t been paying attention.
Finally, unsure of how else to be industrious, I decided to create a practice manual for prosecutors doing criminal appeals. In the end it was more assembling than creating. When I prepare for appeals, I create checklists for procedures—annotated Rules of Court—and anticipate potential judicial questions. In my efforts to “be always employed in something useful,” I compiled these materials,