by Jim Stovall
Dudly continued, “Mr. Stevens, isn’t it true that you flunked out of or were otherwise expelled for disciplinary reasons from …” Dudly referred to a file folder and continued. “… at least nine different prep schools before you allegedly graduated from high school?”
Jason shrugged and replied, “I don’t know the exact number, but that’s probably about right.”
“Mr. Stevens,” Dudly continued, “it appears to me that you had the benefit of attending some of the finest private schools in the United States. How is it that with all of these advantages you either failed to perform even minimally or, in many cases, were removed for disciplinary reasons?”
Jason cleared his throat and spoke. “Well, I guess you could say I wasn’t very motivated when I was a school-aged kid.”
Dudly glared at Jason, replying, “I think that would be a gross understatement, but let us go on. The story seems to be even more fascinating.”
Dudly paced back and forth. His momentum was building.
“You apparently somehow, thanks to the generous contributions of your grandfather, got into several elite universities and somehow walked away with a sketchy and dubious degree that seems to correspond with a sizable gift from your family to the endowment of that institution. But, once again, you apparently did not attend class and, when you did show up, you failed to perform at a level that achieved anything other than failing grades.”
He stared at Jason and inquired, “Is that about right?”
Jason nodded reluctantly and admitted, “Yes.”
Dudly continued pacing back and forth and spoke. “Now let us focus our attention on this little trip to South America. Mr. Stevens, did you have any knowledge of the culture, customs, or even the language of the people served by the Red Stevens’ Library in South America?”
Jason shook his head and stated, “No. I had never heard of the place. I didn’t know anything about it, and I couldn’t speak the language.”
“So,” Dudly continued, “we are to understand that you worked in a library and somehow organized books that were written in a language you could not even read.”
Jason nodded his head and said, “Yes.”
Dudly built to a crescendo. “We will not even address your so-called kidnapping and confinement relating to any scraps of paper you may have received. It would be absurd to put any of that activity in the context of The Gift of Learning.”
Hamilton announced automatically, “Your Honor, we object. If counsel is not going to address the matter, please ask him to save his commentary for someone who might care.”
I glanced at Mr. Dudly and said, “Objection sustained. Mr. Dudly, please confine your cross-examination to questions for this witness.”
Dudly waved dismissively and stated, “Your Honor, we have no further questions for this witness as nothing he has ever done or said here today could lend itself even slightly toward demonstrating that he understands The Gift of Learning, much less is he equipped and prepared to pass this learning on to others.”
Dudly took his seat at the counsel table across the aisle from Mr. Hamilton. Both lawyers and everyone in the courtroom looked toward me with great anticipation. I felt the tension building.
Old Judge Eldridge’s words came back to me once again. Never make any decision before you have to.
My gaze rose to the giant ornate clock on the back wall of the courtroom.
I spoke. “As it is approaching midday, court will stand in recess until 2:00 p.m.”
I struck my gavel once and retreated to the sanity of my chambers.
As Red Stevens’ countenance appeared on the video screen, I hoped he would have some answers for me about The Gift of Learning.
“As you know, I never had the benefit of a formal education, and I realize that you have some kind of degree from that high-toned college we sent you to that is little more than a playground for the idle rich.
“Now, before you get your feelings all hurt, I want you to realize that I respect universities as well as any type of formal education. It just wasn’t a part of my life. What was a part of my life was a constant curiosity and desire to learn everything I could about the people and world around me. I wasn’t able to go to school very long after I learned to read, but the ability to read, think, and observe made me a relatively well-educated man.
“But learning is a process. You can’t simply sit in a classroom and someday walk offstage with a sheepskin and call yourself educated. I believe the reason a graduation ceremony is called a commencement is because the process of learning begins—commences—at that point. The schooling that went before simply provided the tools and the framework for the real lessons to come.
“In the final analysis, Jason, life—when lived on your own terms—is the ultimate teacher. My wealth and success have robbed you of that, and this is my best effort to repair the damage.”
At 2:00 p.m. sharp, I reentered the courtroom and couldn’t help but notice the Stevens clan eagerly assembled in their customary seats. There appeared to be great anticipation on that side of the aisle. Dudly was beaming.
I pounded my gavel and declared, “Court is back in session. With respect to the ruling on The Gift of Learning, I find that Mr. Dudly is correct in that Jason Stevens has never demonstrated even an average aptitude for school or the formal pursuit of learning.”
A cheer and smattering of applause could be heard from the Stevens family. I glared at them until silence resumed.
“However …” A corresponding moan could be heard from Dudly’s side of the courtroom. “… Howard ‘Red’ Stevens had some nontraditional and informal ideas regarding The Gift of Learning. Red Stevens felt that education was a lifelong process, not a brief activity or accomplishment; therefore, it is the finding of this court that Jason Stevens has demonstrated that he understands The Gift of Learning. During the next thirty days, he will be given an opportunity to demonstrate that he can impact others with this Gift of Learning received from his grandfather.
“This court stands adjourned. This matter will be taken up again in thirty days.”
I rapped my gavel.
It was thirty days later. Jason Stevens was, once again, in the witness box as Theodore J. Hamilton approached.
“Jason, over the past month, have you had the opportunity to pass along The Gift of Learning shared with you by your grandfather?”
Jason nodded and said, “Yes,” as Hamilton motioned him to continue. “I was struggling to decide how my grandfather would pass on The Gift of Learning. I decided to take a walk in the Howard ‘Red’ Stevens Urban Park. Sometimes I feel closer to him there.”
Jason looked timidly toward Mr. Watkins seated next to Miss Hastings at the counsel table. They both nodded encouragingly as Jason continued.
“While I was walking through the park, I noticed a group of ten- or twelve-year-old boys gathered there. This struck me as strange as it was a school day. I went over and talked to them and asked why they weren’t in school. They shared with me that they didn’t care about school, and you couldn’t learn anything important in that school anyway.
“I asked what school they went to and found out the name of their teacher. I went to the school and waited for class to be out and then went in to meet their teacher.”
Jason loosened his tie slightly and sat back in the witness chair. He glanced up at me briefly and went on.
“It’s a really rundown inner-city school. It looks like they spend more money on armed guards than they do on teaching the kids. The teacher I met was a young guy my age named Tom. Tom has spent his whole life preparing to be a teacher, and he is totally dedicated to these kids; but Tom told me most of their parents aren’t involved, and the kids just don’t see anything in his lessons relevant to the world they know.
“I asked what subjects these kids were studying. Tom to
ld me they were learning fractions, geometry, beginning economics, and they all had to prepare a science fair project. I worked it out with Tom for me to create a supplemental Saturday School in the inner-city park every week.”
Mr. Hamilton nodded as if in approval of the progress that Jason had made and inquired, “How has your Saturday School been going?”
Jason smiled with pride and said, “Well, we’ve had class for four weeks. In order to get into my Saturday School, you have to have a library card and a note from the teacher that you have been in class every day the previous week. We invited kids from surrounding schools and older kids in the day care run by the single moms’ co-op.”
Jason paused to organize his thoughts and then discreetly counted off the four weeks’ activities on his fingers as he spoke. “The first week, I got all the kids to come because I announced that the shortstop for the area Major League baseball team would be at the Saturday School that first week. He talked about batting averages, and he and Tom worked together so kids began to understand and be excited about learning percentages and fractions. He gave all the kids signed baseball cards.
“The second week, we met at the basketball court in the park, and the starting forward for the NBA franchise showed up to help us demonstrate geometry. He made shots from all angles of the court using the backboard to demonstrate the various angles and how they changed, depending on where he was shooting from.
“The third week, we had a lesson in economics. A self-made millionaire businessman, who had attended their school thirty years ago, showed up in a limo and explained why it was important to understand business and finance. The kids all got to ride in the limo, and Tom said they are really interested in beginning economics now.
“Last week, I had a NASCAR driver come to the park and bring his race car. He told the kids and demonstrated how a high-performance engine works. He explained that you can’t be a race-car driver or much of anything else unless you understand basic science. The kids got energized and excited about their science fair projects, and things are getting a lot better at the school.”
I looked at Mr. Hamilton and inquired, “Any further questions, counselor?”
Hamilton grinned and replied, “Your Honor, I believe that’s more than enough.”
Dudly rose and barked, “Your Honor, a number of questions regarding this whole situation are begging to be asked.”
I sighed and responded, “Please ask your questions.”
Dudly was undaunted as he approached Jason.
“Mr. Stevens, do you have a teaching certificate from this state or any jurisdiction?”
Jason shook his head, appearing bewildered and replied, “No.”
“Does your baseball player, basketball player, businessman, or race-car driver have teaching certificates or credentials that this court might recognize?”
Jason shrugged and said, “I don’t know, but I doubt it.”
Dudly continued. “Does this teacher named Tom you refer to have permission from the school board to conduct official sanctioned classes in this so-called urban park?”
Jason shrugged again and responded, “I’m not sure. It is just a bunch of kids who need a new way to learn in order to get excited about school, combined with a few high-profile individuals who are willing to volunteer their time to help.”
Dudly swirled about grandly as if addressing everyone seated in the courtroom. “Well, I certainly don’t find anything educational or approaching The Gift of Learning in that.”
“Well, I do,” I ruled. “Counselor, do you have any further questions in this matter?”
Dudly appeared deflated and shook his head in defeat.
I concluded, “Then this matter is resolved. This court will be in session at 10:00 a.m. to take up The Gift of Problems.”
Problems viewed in the future appear to be obstacles while problems viewed in the past are revealed as blessings.
Seven
THE LIFE OF PROBLEMS
If my chambers in the court building, with the exception of my own leather chair, were designed by people to impress other people, my study at home was designed by me to impress no one other than me. The photos displayed are for the sole purpose of helping me to recall times, places, and people who matter only to me. While the array of pictures might not impress anyone else, they are, without a doubt, the photographic milestones of my life.
My desk is huge, but unlike the one in the court building, it is functional. Every inch of the surface is covered with what appears to be chaotic debris; but, in reality, I know where everything is and can put my fingers on it whenever I choose. The fact that the disorganization would baffle anyone else is somehow comforting to me.
There are a number of well-worn law books that share shelf space with books on everything from golf to fishing and novels ranging from westerns to science fiction. My Labrador retriever, Rex, has found his own familiar and comfortable spot on the ancient rug in front of the fireplace. Like me, he doesn’t ask for anything during his time in the study other than to be left alone and to have everything left permanently as it is.
I was breaking one of my study’s unwritten rules as I was thinking about the day in court; however, since it’s one of my rules and since it’s my study where I have sole and absolute jurisdiction, I can suspend or amend rules whenever I wish.
Rex and I were preparing to watch a football game on the large television nearby. It wasn’t just any football game, but the hometown team was playing the evil instate rival. I realize there are many sections of the United States that do not even have a professional football team, but I still feel one of the great developments in the game was when they put two pro teams in the same state. I had the hometown jersey on and my refreshments arrayed before me.
The aforementioned jersey has been the subject of several debates with my beloved Marie, as the jersey is now older than the oldest player currently in the League. Approximately a decade ago, Marie informed me that my football jersey should be donated to a charity resale shop. In recent debates, she has downgraded its proposed disposal to inclusion in our family rag bag for washing the cars.
Since the jersey is worn only in my study where I have supreme jurisdiction, she has relented but has laid down a ruling pertaining to her jurisdiction, which includes everywhere outside of my study. Marie’s ruling states that the football jersey in question can never be worn outside of the study, particularly if we’re going anywhere or having people come over.
Since I didn’t want to go anywhere or see anyone, the football jersey was an ideal wardrobe selection. I had asked Rex the Wonder Dog if he disagreed. Hearing no comments to the contrary, I knew we were in one accord.
I was tuned in to the appropriate channel waiting for the ball game. Then just before the pre-game broadcast, the network went for a news update.
There she was, standing next to L. Myron Dudly. It was Sarah Stevens—Jason Stevens’ mother and one of the litigants opposing him in the Red Stevens matter.
Sarah was asked, “Why would you oppose your own son in the court case?”
She smiled for the camera and spoke as if discussing a delightful dinner party or fashion accessory.
“Jason is a good boy. He’s just confused. This is not really an argument. We’re just clearing up some of those nasty, nagging legal things.”
The reporter continued, “Don’t you feel Jason should be allowed to give away your father-in-law’s money as Red Stevens intended through the charitable trust?”
Sarah giggled and offered her comments. “Well, charity’s fine, but this is money that my father-in-law worked for, and it should go to his children. Besides, we do a lot for charity.”
“How much do you do for charity?” the reporter fired at her.
Sarah seemed perplexed. Dudly stammered as if to s
top Sarah, but Sarah answered, “Well, I know I help a lot of charities. Just last week, I donated a whole bag of clothing, and we always buy a table for the opera, ball, and the ballet, and … well, you know. All the right things.”
The reporter asked, “Sarah, are you in communication with your son, Jason?”
Sarah smiled and said, “Well, we don’t talk any less now than we always have.”
As the reporter was beginning to thank Sarah Stevens and throw it back to the anchor, Dudly interrupted authoritatively, “I believe my client has answered all the questions she needs to. We will have no further comment on this matter.”
The reporter appeared bewildered as the screen faded to black and the football game came on.
I was totally distracted and reaching for the remote control to turn off the game when I noticed that Rex was focused on the TV in anticipation. Since I had promised him all week we would watch the game together, I tossed him a pretzel and kept my commitment.
The next morning, as usual, I greeted the sunrise as it appeared through the window of my chambers. I located the DVD copy of the video Red Stevens had made for Jason labeled The Gift of Problems. I was thinking that the phrase “The Gift of Problems” seems to be ironic when Red Stevens began to speak.
“Jason, life is full of many contradictions. In fact, the longer you live, the more the reality of life will seem like one great paradox. But if you live long enough and search hard enough you will find a miraculous order to the confusion.
“All of the lessons I am trying to teach you as a part of The Ultimate Gift left through my will are generally learned as people go through their lives facing struggles and problems. Any challenge that does not defeat us ultimately strengthens us.
“One of the great errors in my life was sheltering so many people—including you—from life’s problems. Out of a misguided sense of concern for your well-being, I actually took away your ability to handle life’s problems by removing them from your environment.