The Reemergence of the Lost Artist

After three years of the Artistic Lawyer, it just occurred to me that I’ve been selfish with my art.  Yes, I’ve shared my comical stories.  Recently, I’ve even branched into fiction.  But this morning I realized that I’ve never shared my drawings or the vast majority of the thousands of photos that I’ve taken over the years.  Even if you’ve seen some of the photos, you have not heard the stories behind them.  Well that is about to change…    

From the late 90’s to early 2000’s, I practiced law with a large law firm in Atlanta, GA.  My plush window office was on the 31st floor of a midtown Atlanta high-rise that offered astonishing views of the Atlanta skyline, as well as breathtaking sunset views.  Those sunsets would speak to me every single day.  But since they were so fleeting, I felt an incredible urge to capture them.  In 2001, one of my co-workers sold me a Nikon digital camera.  My life was forever changed.  It didn’t take long to discover that I could shoot through the glass and capture the sunsets perfectly.   I kept that Nikon at the office and started shooting the sunsets on a regular basis.  The news of my new-found passion spread quickly throughout the firm.  When there was an especially awesome sunset, my co-workers would ring my phone off the hook to make sure that I had the camera ready.  I’ve shared a photo of  my favorite sunset taken from the office.  Yes, it does look like it was taken on Mars.  Yes, it is completely real; no Photoshop involved.      

Although the desire to capture the sunsets got me started in photography, I have always had an artistic side.  Many of you might recall the magazines ads from back in the day which asked you to draw a turtle, pirate, or some other character, and then send in the drawing to some far off art school.   Of course I sent in a drawing, and the next thing I knew some recruiter was knocking on our door trying to get me enrolled.  Although that school probably recruited everyone who sent in a drawing, his visit sure made me feel like a true artist.  In high school, my outlets were drawing, painting, pen & ink, and scratchboard.  My work earned a membership into the National Art Honor Society.  My art teacher literally begged me to pursue art as a major in college (but that’s a story for another day).  Needless to say, I chose a different path. 

After years of not creating any art, it was (ironically) the view from my law office that got me into photography and back to my artistic roots.  When I started working in that office, I had no idea that I would become enamored with the sunsets and discover photography as a passion.  That just goes to show that if there’s an artist in you, it is going to find its way out, one way or another.    

Welcome to the Artistic Lawyer’s Photo of the Day.  Get ready for a photographic ride.  I’m not sure how long it will last.  Actually, I do know; as long as I have photos with stories to tell.

Chapter 2 - Token of Appreciation

It couldn’t be time to get up.  Not yet.  No way.  I’m normally an early riser.  In fact, I can’t stand lingering in bed in the morning.  But on this particular morning I just couldn’t get up.  Sure, I didn’t get enough sleep.  But the lack of sleep was only part of the problem.  The other issue was the slightly bruised ego caused by the mystery woman.  As I laid on my back staring at the twirling blades of my ceiling fan, my mind kept replaying the night before.  Her image would not leave my mind; nor would the feeling of standing there alone in the flashing blue lights.  All night I wondered if there was anything I could have done that would have led to the conversation that I desperately wanted to have with her.  By now I would have known her name, where she grew up, some of her hobbies, and maybe even her favorite cereal.  As I replayed the evening yet again, my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the appointment reminder on my phone.   I glanced at the screen.  I had a meeting with a potential new client in an hour.  Time to get up.

            Like most people, I am a creature of habit.  Every morning I take my phone into the bathroom with me, and tune in one of my favorite sports talk shows.  But sports talk was not going to cut it this morning.  I wanted some music; not just any music, but some good lively music.   I picked up my phone and browsed through my Pandora stations.  This felt like a Classic Hip-Hop morning.  Each song that played took me back to a different stage of my life, and took my mind off of her.  As I shaved, showered, and dressed, my mind drifted through a constant stream of daydreams.  I pictured myself as a famous rapper performing before a capacity crowd.  But I wasn’t the typical rapper.  I was rapping in a suit, white shirt, and bowtie, looking more like Minister Farrakhan than Tupac Shakur.  But that look was my hook, and the crowd seemed to love it.  The truth is I could never get on stage in front of a crowd to perform.  The stage fright would overwhelm me.  Thank God for the shower.   

            The music totally transformed my mood, and I managed to get out of the house feeling re-energized and surprisingly upbeat.  I was really excited about this new client.  I had been chasing his business for quite a while.  Hopefully, I would close the deal today.  I also couldn’t wait to tell my secretary Anita about the mystery woman.  I knew I was going to get a lot of grief for the outcome, but I was prepared for that.  But she always knew that right thing to say and I was anxious to hear her thoughts.  I arrived about ten minutes before the start of my meeting.  As usual, my voicemail light was lit.  And, as usual, I didn’t feel like checking it so I would just let Anita do it.  I didn’t really have time anyway.  I never like to cut it so close to my meetings but at least I was there before the client---long before the client as it turned out.  But I just had to deal with it because I was expecting him to write a nice check, and that sure has a way of making me a lot more patient.  The client finally showed up about an hour late.  The first thing he did was thank me for being so understanding in pushing the meeting back an hour (mistakenly assuming that I had received his voicemail message left the night before).  I told him that I had received the message and that it was no problem at all.  After about an hour, we finally wrapped up our meeting.  It was a done deal.  He signed the engagement letter, pulled out his checkbook and stroked a very nice check for my retainer.  After a few minutes of chit-chat,  I walked him to the elevator, we shook hands, and he was on his way.

            Now that the client business was done, I headed straight to Anita.  As I approached her desk, I was completely distracted by an extremely large, colorful and exotic floral arrangement.  It was absolutely breathtaking.  Of course I asked her who had sent them to her.  Her response startled me.  “They’re not for me, they’re for you.”  I was stunned.  “Are you serious?”  I had never received flowers in my life and I was completely at a loss as to who could have sent them.  “Open the card, silly boy!”  Yes, yes, I was getting to that.  I grabbed the envelope and ripped it open like an over-anxious presenter at an awards show, desperate to find out who has sent such a wonderful arrangement. I read the card silently as Anita looked on in anticipation.  The first line of the card read, “Dear Braxton, do you chase women through red lights every Thursday night?”  Oh my God!  The flowers are from her!  But how did she know who I was?  I guess it’s true that women are always one step ahead of us. 

All of the emotions that I felt at that moment—joy, excitement, relief, were evidenced by the huge smile on my face.  I was so lost in the moment that I barely heard Anita screaming, “what does it say, who sent them, who sent them?”   I continued reading in silence.  “I wanted thank you for taking care of the ticket for me last night.  That was such a thoughtful gesture.  Sending these flowers was the least I could do.  I’d also like to thank you in person.  I have a reservation at Fabio’s at 12:45.  I hope you can join me.  Vanessa Boudreaux.”  I looked at my watch.  I had to go.  “Anita, I’ve got to go!  I’ll explain later.  Please cancel my afternoon appointments!”  I rushed to my office, grabbed my keys off the desk, and sprinted out the door.  As I entered the elevator, my heart began to race.  I began to breathe heavily, as a bead of sweat rolled down my forehead.  I was dying to meet her but at the same time, I felt a bit like a puppet on a string.  Was she just playing me?  Was this all a big joke?  Is she really going to be there?  What if it doesn’t go well? 

I really needed to gather myself.  I couldn’t meet her with all of those silly thoughts racing through my head.  When I got to my car I noticed a scratch on the side of my car.  Now, despite the rush, I had to take a second to check out this scratch because I do not play when it comes to my car.  I sat my phone on top of the car and bent over to check out the scratch.  I rubbed my finger over it, and it magically started disappearing.  The relief of not having an ugly scratch on the side of my car seemed to calm me down a bit.  That calmness would be short-lived however, as the lunch-time traffic was horrendous.  I tried to avoid the main streets but the side streets were just as bad.  I glanced at the clock every few minutes as it raced toward 12:45.  I tried music as a distraction but I found myself constantly switching stations, unable to find just the right song.  Nothing seemed to help.  I looked at the clock.  12:41.  It wasn’t a question of whether I would be late.  The real question was how late I would be.  I needed to call the restaurant.  I looked in the cup holder where I normally keep my phone.  No phone.  Where the hell was my phone?  Then I realized that I’d left my phone on top of the car!  So, not only was I going to be late, but I couldn’t call the restaurant to let them know.  I tried to remain calm as the clock continued to race---12:48, 12:52, 12:59.  Finally, I pulled up to the valet at 1:03.  I grabbed the claim check and hurried toward the front door.  As I walked in, I stopped and took a deep breath.  I approached the Maitre’d and told him I was there to meet Ms. Boudreaux.  “Ah, sir, we’ve been anticipating your arrival.  Follow me please.”  He led me through a maze of tables toward the rear of the restaurant.  Finally, we arrived at a private dining room.  He opened the wooden sliding door.  The room was beautifully but simply decorated.  There was a single table covered in fine linen with extravagant place settings for two, a bottle of wine, floral centerpiece—but no Ms. Boudreaux.  “Have a seat sir, I will be right back.”  So there I sat all alone in a room built for two, feeling emptier than I did the night before.  Then the door slid open again.  The Maitre’d announced, “Ms. Boudreaux will be joining you momentarily.”  It was finally time to meet this woman.                        

Chapter 1 - Decked Out in Blue

I couldn't decide whether to go to this event alone or with a date.  My guess was that this would be the type of event where the odds of meeting someone interesting would be very high.  Then again, I thought the same thing about the last few similar events, but they turned out to be a little awkward since I was one of the few people without a date.  I really didn't feel like experiencing that again, but I just had a feeling that I'd better go alone this time, so off I went. 

When I arrived I was immediately stunned by the elegance of the affair.  The location, the crowd, the food, the music---everything was first class.  As I stood there enjoying the evening, an unrecognizable feeling came over me.  It was anxiousness, nervousness, stimulation and excitement all wrapped up into one.  My heart was racing like I was preparing to jump out of an airplane for my first skydive.  What was going on?  I realized that I had just brushed shoulders "her." She was quite tall, nearly matching my 6'1" frame in her heels.  She had an earthy, natural beauty that radiated throughout the room.  There was just something about her that drew me to her, something beyond the physical, something much deeper. It was like nothing I had ever experienced.  Our eyes met.  That one lingering glance let me know that she felt something too. 

As I stood there, I almost found myself staring, though I really didn't want to do that since: (a) staring at a stranger is quite creepy, and (b) she was with someone.  I had to find out who she was.    Was she wearing a ring?  Who was that guy she was with?  Maybe it was her cousin, or just a friend.  Of course that was what I wanted to think.  I knew that was simply wishful thinking; cousins and friends don't touch like he was touching her.  I couldn't stand watching him pull her into his body like that.  I had to move to another room before I did or said something crazy, or just plain went crazy.  I had to get away.  I needed to start working the room, striking up conversations, networking---anything to get my mind off her.  After an hour or so of mingling, I recognized an attorney who I was working with on a deal.  We talked about the last few remaining deal points and managed to close a deal that had been lingering for weeks.  It turned out to be a productive night after all, though not exactly what I had expected.  Now, I'm not exactly the type to shut down the party, so I started thinking it was about time for me to head home.  Of course I was hoping to run into her again, and I walked through the entire building in hopes of doing just that.  But my luck had run out.  There was no sign of her. 

As I walked out to give my claim check to the valet, I began to get that feeling again.  But this time it was even more intense.  I knew she was around, but where?  I looked up to the front of the long line of cars, and there she was--getting in her car—ALONE!  For a split second I was frozen.  I wasn't sure whether to call out to her, run after her, or what?  I couldn't just stand there and do nothing. Before I could react, the valet closed her door and she sped off. 

            I was left there in stunned disbelief clutching my claim check, which by now was crumpled and wet from my sweaty palms.  At that moment, a strange calmness came over me.  I heard a voice telling me not to worry.  I knew I would see her again.  I knew I'd get to know her favorite color, her favorite cereal, what she buys too many/much of, what type of music she likes, her favorite song, how she likes to dress, etc. 

When I got in my car the first thing I wanted to know was exactly how I had managed to stay out so late on a week night.  My bed was going to feel so good tonight.  There was only one slight problem---my gas light was on and it had been on for a while.  I hate stopping at gas stations late at night.  But tonight I had no choice.  As I pulled into the gas station, I began to feel excited again.  I noticed a car pulling off that looked strangely familiar.  “Oh shit!  That’s her!” I sped off in pursuit.  She was not going to get away this time.  No way.  I pulled up beside her and tried to get her attention.  Of course she wouldn’t look!  I ended up driving beside her for several blocks, waving, gesturing, doing everything I possibly could to get her attention. Then I realized that my luck was about to change for the better as I noticed the traffic light up ahead turning red.  Unless she was planning on running the light, she was going to be stopped right beside me.  The problem was she didn’t seem to be slowing down.  As she got closer to the light, my heart sank as her engine roared in acceleration.  She was running the light!  Well, if she’s running the light then so was I.  I’m not missing this woman.

Unfortunately, after passing through the intersection I noticed the flashing lights, followed by the amplified voice of the officer directing us BOTH to pull over.  The three cars formed a line on the shoulder, hers in the front and mine in the middle.  When the officer walked up to my car I was practically grinning from ear to ear.  He wanted to know what was so “funny.”  I explained the situation to him, and proceeded to beg him not to give her a ticket.  After checking my license and registration, he went back to his car.  It seemed to take forever for him to come back with the ticket, but as long as she was still there, it didn’t really matter.  Finally, he came back and asked me to wait.  I watched him walk up to her car and start a conversation.  He gestured for me to come forward, and started walking toward me.  He approached me and said, “the lady would like to thank you for standing up for her.  I’m not supposed to do this but I will wait here a minute for everyone’s safety.”  Then he went back to his car. 

As I approached her car door, I could see her straightening her hair and puckering her lips to even out her lipstick.  She rolled down her window just enough for her to speak out of it.  She looked at me, smiled, and said, “I just wanted to thank you for what you did.  I really appreciate it.  Have a good night.”  Before I could even say a word, she rolled up the window, put the car in drive, and drove off.  I looked on in disbelief as she sped away, my body covered in waves of blue from the officer’s flashing lights.  Just as quickly as she’d left, the officer drove away, and I was left all alone of the side of the road.  I hadn’t gotten her phone number, or even her name!  I didn’t even have a chance to introduce myself.  Worst of all, every bit of dignity that I left home with that night had completely melted away.  How could my inner voice have been so very wrong?  What a damned cold night.

Get Off My Treadmill Miss Daisy!

Well I’m back after a bit of a hiatus.  I really didn’t want to write this story again after originally writing it back in the late 90’s.  After searching for it for this blog without any luck, I decided it was time for a re-write.  Thank God I was blessed with a good memory.  Now, on to the story.    

 When I moved to Atlanta back in 1998 I lived in a very nice high-rise condo building near Piedmont Park.   Even though my condo was less than 800 square feet, I loved living there.   I could walk to work, walk to restaurants, and even drop off my dry cleaning with the concierge.   One of the other nice benefits of the building was the fitness center.  It wasn’t very large, but it had just about everything you needed, including two treadmills.  Even though I wished there were more treadmills, I usually managed to get one on my morning visits.  On one particular morning I walked in and found that one of the treadmills was not working, and the other was being used.  “No worries,” I thought. I’ll just lift some weights until the treadmill was free.  Since there was only one working treadmill, I knew I had to keep a close eye on it to make sure I got on as soon as it was free.   So I’m working out and listening to my Discman while trying to keep my eye on the treadmill when this cute elderly white couple managed to sneak in on me.  To my dismay, the lady headed straight toward the treadmill!  Despite her age, she was much closer to the treadmill so there was no way I could get to it before she did.  I suppose I could have told her that I was waiting for the treadmill, but she was a cute little old lady, and I was taught to always respect the elderly.   I will admit that I wasn’t really happy about it, but I figured that “Miss Daisy” wouldn’t be on for very long.  As time passed, I found myself hovering around the treadmill, circling from time to time like a shark with its eye on some prey.  With the passage of more time, my thoughts and actions continued to spiral down the path to hell.  I started clearing my throat loudly, giving her the occasional evil eye, and calling her names under my breath.

My mood took a dramatic turn for the better when one of my favorite songs started playing, so I went back to the weights.  I turned the volume down a little so I could hear what was going on around me to make sure that I didn’t miss the treadmill again.  I was in the middle of a set of dumbbell curls when, out of nowhere, I heard this loud sneaker squeak (like the kind you hear on the basketball court) followed by an earth-shattering crash, combined with repeated cries of “oh God, oh God, oh dear God.”  Yes, Miss Daisy had fallen and couldn’t get up!  When I looked I couldn’t believe my eyes.  Poor Miss Daisy was wedged up against the wall behind the treadmill in the most awkward, contorted position you can possibly imagine.  She looked like she was playing Twister— lying on her neck, legs wide open, arms going in all directions, all while still mumbling “oh God, oh God, oh dear God.”  The visual and the sound of her voice still haunt me to this day.  I rushed over to her and I swear I almost blurted out in my best Morgan Freeman voice, “Is you alright Miss Daisy?” But no, I just did the right thing and made sure she was alright before helping her get up.  Unfortunately, she couldn’t get up right away.  She needed a couple of minutes to sit on the floor to gather herself and examine the various bumps and bruises.  After gathering herself, she looked at me and said, “thank you so much, you are so sweet.”  My eyes got as big as silver dollars as the guilt rushed in.  All I could think was “if she only knew” as I shamefully mumbled a quick "thank you."  I know that it really wasn't my fault that she fell, but deep down inside I felt responsible.   Fortunately, she was not seriously injured.  Needless to say, she did NOT get back on the treadmill.  In fact, sadly, I never saw her in the gym again.  I hope she wasn’t scarred for life.  Oh, and yes, after she and her husband left you know I got on the treadmill and got my 30 minutes in, but it was a real struggle because I just could not stop laughing at what I had just witnessed. 

Three Women and the Missing Nuts

When I was in high school I worked at the local public library.  During the summers I worked full-time and sometimes worked from 1:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m.  In the evenings the library was often empty after 8:15 or 8:30, so we started a routine of ordering sundaes from the nearby McDonald’s.  One night we sent Terri, another high school student, to get sundaes for the four of us who were working that night.  I ordered a caramel sundae with nuts, as I always did.  When Terri got back with the sundaes I was helping a patron at the front desk.  The three ladies were in the office talking and eating their sundaes.  When I finished at the front desk I walked into the office, excited that I could finally sit down and enjoy my sundae.  However, when I spotted the sundae, a look of disappointment overcame my face.  Without thinking twice, I immediately turned to Terri and blurted out, “AWWWW TERRI HOW COULD YOU FORGET MY NUTS?”  To this day, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a group a women laugh so hard and I’m fairly certain that I’ve never been more embarrassed.  But, hey, no one ever forgot my nuts after that night.    

If You Plan to Drink and Ride A Bicycle With a Passenger, Watch Out for Police Officers Who Try to Hold You Down When You're Doing Your Pushups

The Artistic Lawyer is back, finally. After missing the entire year of 2010 for some unknown reason, I am back with my first entry of 2011. But I must warn you---this one is a bit of a departure from the norm. Although there may some comical aspects of this entry, that is really not the point. So, are you ready? Ok, let’s get started.

Last night I had a pretty odd dream. I dreamed that I went to an elegant Black-tie event with a beautiful date. (That’s not the odd part, by the way). Here’s where it get’s strange. When we left the event, we hopped on my bicycle and pedaled off into the cool evening. Yes, a bicycle, and not one of those tandem bikes with two seats and two sets of pedals. There was only one seat on the bike and my date sat on it in her beautiful dress with her legs stretched out to the sides, and I had to stand on the pedals in my tuxedo, that is, when I wasn’t pumping the pedals to get us up some steep hill.

A few miles into the ride I noticed flashing flights. You guessed it, I was being pulled over for suspicion of drunk cycling and being unfit (i.e. too out-of-shape) to transport a passenger on a bicycle. In order to avoid being arrested I had to pass a physical exam, which consisted of doing 40 pushups. No problem, I thought. I dropped to the ground and started doing the pushups. Of course the officer thought there was no way I would make it to 40 so he started getting the handcuffs ready. Much to his surprise, I was blowing through the pushups with ease. As I got to the high 20’s I started to feel something on my back. The officer was beginning to push down on me as I pushed myself up. The more pushups I did, the harder he would push down. By the time I got to 35, he was practically sitting on me trying to keep me from finishing. By the end I was straining to lift the weight of two people, as my date stood watching and cheering me on. Despite the officer’s attempts, I made it!

As I thought about that dream today, I was struck by the differences between the two people who were with me. First there was my date, who was leaving a fancy event with me on a bicycle, a true ride-or-die friend. Obviously, she was someone who would stick with me no matter what the circumstances, and cheer me on during the tough times. Then I thought of the officer, who not only doubted that I could finish the task, but physically did everything within his power to keep me from finishing. The closer I got to the finish line, the harder he worked against me to keep me from making it! As I think about it, I was at an advantage because it was obvious that the officer was working against me so I knew what I had to do to overcome his efforts. Even so, he didn’t just jump on my back to try to stop me. He started with a little pressure and gradually increased the resistance as I got closer to finishing.

Unfortunately in life the people who work against us aren’t as obvious as the police officer. That makes them even more of a hindrance to our success because we don’t always recognize them or what they are doing. What’s worse is that we often push the ride-or-die friend out of our lives, while we let the police officers continue working against us. Oh, and one other thing---as much as the officer was ready to arrest me if I didn’t finish the pushups, he was just as quick to apologize and tell me how he knew I was going to make it all along. Sound familiar to anyone?

Excuse Me! This Is Not A GEICO Commercial!

I had just wrapped a meeting in Atlanta’s West End and got back in my car, heading toward I-20 East. It was only a matter of moments before I was cruising and listening to my favorite afternoon sports talk show. As I drove, I was distracted by some movement on or near my shoulder, which I barely noticed out of the corner of my eye. What could it be? A piece of lint? A fly? A spider? Surely it was nothing that a quick flick of the wrist couldn’t handle. Then came the quick flick of the wrist. Then came, well, utter shock. Turns out, it wasn’t a piece of lint, a fly or a spider; IT WAS A GEICO-COMMERCIAL LOOKING GREEN LIZARD!!!!!!! Now, mind you, I wasn’t really afraid of GEICO Jr., but I have to confess the shock of it startled the **** out of me—so much so that my body clenched up, causing me to accelerate and swerve into another lane of traffic. I really didn’t really care about the honks from the 18 wheeler whose path I had dangerously crossed into. I was more concerned about this f***ing creature in my car.

There it was. Sitting on the front passenger floor mat—chilling like it belonged there. There was nothing I could do about it. I was still driving. But I was NOT going to be denied. I was going to get GEICO Jr. out of my car—dead or alive. First, I had to get off the Interstate so I took the next exit. GEICO Jr. was still sitting there when I stopped in a parking lot of a strip mall. I looked around for something to use to get this thing out of the car. The only things within reach were some mail and a three-ring binder. Yes, the three-ring binder was going to get me out of this situation. I grabbed the binder and took a whack at the lizard. Success—or so I thought—I hit the lizard but not hard enough or in the right spot. But I did leave some damage; that little bastard was bruised all over the back. Yes, there had to be some damaged organs, internal bleeding, or something wrong with that little mf’er. Despite its injuries, it just scurried around the floor and eventually under the seat. I got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side to try to get rid of this thing. I moved the seat forward. The lizard ran to the back. So I moved to the back. I tried to guide GEICO Jr. out of the open door. No luck. The lizard wasn’t having any of it. I had no choice. I had to take another whack at the lightning quick creature. Damn it! Missed. Now it was under the seat again. So I slid the seat backward. GEICO Jr. ran to the front. But as soon as I got to the front of the car, my little tormentor ran under the seat. So I moved the seat forward and it ran back to the back. This went on for about three more times.

In the midst of all of this seat moving and lizard chasing, I picked up something else I didn’t really want—a spectator. It was a young man who was asked me if everything was ok. (I imagine it did look kind of crazy) I explained that I was trying to get a lizard out of my car. He looked at me, put his palm up (as if to tell me to talk to the hand) and said, “nah, bruh, I’ma let you handle dat.” I mumbled under my beath, “Fine, mf’r; I didn’t ask for your help anyway.” Unfortunately I did have to get out of there. I had another appointment to get to, about five minutes away. When I arrived I looked in the back and there was GEICO Jr., just sitting there. I had a clean shot. WHACK! Missed again. As I sit here typing this, I imagine GEICO Jr. is still sitting under the seat trying to recover from that bruised back. I’m sitting here trying to figure out how to get rid of my unwanted passenger. Should I buy some Raid and try to poison it or set a mousetrap (I don’t think there’s such a thing as a lizard trap and if there were what would you put in it?) or just try to wait him out? Suggestions, please? GEICO Jr. has got to go!