Finals update (with bonus inspiration)

May 3, 2008 at 7:45 am | Posted in law school | 3 Comments
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One 45(ish)-page paper down; two 30-page papers to go. One is due Monday. As of Saturday morning, I have written four pages, but I am inspired by the subject matter and wish I had more time to write it. This one, at least, is just for pass/fail credit, so I don’t have to stress about it being perfect. That being said, I can almost guarantee it will be better than my paper on Justice Breyer. Oh well. In the meantime, I have a bridal shower and engagement party to attend, and tomorrow Tim heads to Kansas City (because, you know, it’s a great place for a company to have its annual GM/VP meeting. I suppose because there are good steak houses?) So I have a feeling that Sunday night will be loooooong…

Extra credit: a poem that (rather obliquely) inspired my current paper on the perception of women lawyers in the media.

I Like to Think of Harriet Tubman — Susan Griffin

I like to think of Harriet Tubman.
Harriet Tubman who carried a revolver,
who had a scar on her head from a rock thrown
by a slave-master (because she
talked back), and who
had a ransom on her head
of thousands of dollars and who
was never caught, and who
had no use for the law
when the law was wrong,
who defied the law. I like
to think of her.
I like to think of her especially
when I think of the problem
of feeding children.

The legal answer
to the problem of feeding children
is ten free lunches every month,
being equal, in the child’s real life,
to eating lunch every other day.
Monday but not Tuesday.
I like to think of the President
eating lunch on Monday, but not
and when I think of the President
and the law, and the problem of
feeding children, I like to
think of Harriet Tubman
and her revolver.

And then sometimes
I think of the President
and other men,
men who practice the law,
who revere the law,
who make the law,
who enforce the law,
who live behind
and operate through
and feed themselves
at the expense of
starving children
because of the law.

men who sit in paneled offices
and think about vacations
and tell women
whose care it is
to feed children
not to be hysterical
not to be hysterical as in the word
hysterikos, the greek for
womb suffering,
not to suffer in their
not to care,
not to bother the men
because they want to think
of other things
and do not want to take
women seriously.
I want them to think about Harriet Tubman,
and remember,
remember that she was beaten by a white man
and she lived
and she lived to redress her grievances,
and she lived in swamps
and wore the clothes of a man
bringing hundreds of fugitives from
slavery, and was never caught,
and led an army,
and won a battle,
and defied the laws
because the laws were wrong, I want men
to take us seriously.
I am tired wanting them to think
about right and wrong.
I want them to fear.
I want them to feel fear now I want them
to know
that there is always a time
there is always a time to make right
what is wrong,
there is always a time
for retribution
and that time
is beginning.




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  1. I appreciate the bonus inspiration. April was national poetry month, which I did not know until the month had ended. To make up for it I have checked out a biography of T.S. Eliot and an anthology of poems in English. This is more culture than I have gotten in years. Have you read “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”? What do you make of it?

  2. I don’t think you can graduate with an English degree without having read “Prufock,” and although it may be cliched to admit it, I love it in all its poingant tragedy. There are so many lines in there you read and recognize as quotations you have heard all the time (Do I dare to eat a peach?) and you think, “Oh, so this is where that phrase came from!”
    “I hear the mermaids singing each to each…I do not think that they will sing to me” (That’s from memory)

  3. I am impressed KBM.

    My favorite line is “I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.”

    It speaks to me, mostly because at the end of a typical morning, I have about five sullied coffee spoons languishing in the sink.

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