The Finger of Destiny

What will you do when the finger of Destiny points at you?

For us, we decided to adopt her. Maybe it was destiny (pun intended) that she came to us. She arrived in Chicago the same week that Bernie passed. And she joined us right as we were about to embark on a particularly difficult period without him and helped us through it.

Plus, she’s been such a sweetheart that we just couldn’t let her go. She took to us from the moment she arrived home, and we definitely fell for her. Looks like we’ve failed as foster parents.

However, we just couldn’t abide by her name. So from henceforth, she will be known as Dessie Lisa Vito. First of her name. Queen of all she surveys. Barker at other dogs. Killer of rodents. Conquerer of bed space.

Welcome to the family, Dessie. Thank you for helping heal our broken hearts. Now if you’d only stop trying to kill all those possums.

Off to the Windy City

After nine years in New York (including the last three-and-a-half years with ALM Media), I will no longer be a resident of the Big Apple. As of December 9, I’ll be based in Chicago as a legal affairs writer with the ABA Journal. I’m also excited to be embarking on this new adventure with my lovely wife.

In the meantime, I’d like to thank everyone at Law Technology News and American Lawyer Magazine for three-and-a-half wonderful years.

“It’s time to move on, time to get going. What lies ahead, I have no way of knowing. But under my feet, baby, grass is growing. It’s time to move on, it’s time to get going.” — Tom Petty

Thank You — Ten Years Too Late.

Google can be a real downer.

Sometimes, I like to search for people from my past that I’ve long lost touch with to see how they’re doing. Usually, it’s to satisfy some momentary burst of curiosity inspired by one of the many mental tangents my brain seems to go on. I’ll pass by a piano and wonder what became of my old piano teacher and the music school I used to go to on Saturdays. I’ll write about some lawsuit and wonder whatever happened to some of my law school classmates or former work colleagues. I’ll watch Lebron James throw down a monster dunk and think about some of the guys I used to play basketball with and how we’d feel when one of us would do something like that – on video games we’d play after we were done laying bricks on the basketball court.

Today, I thought of Georgeann Rettberg. I was thinking about why I became a writer in the first place, and she was the first person that I thought of. She was in charge of the Western Pennsylvania Writing Project’s Young Writers Institute in Pittsburgh. The program, which is still around today, looks to teach and develop writing skills in schoolchildren from grades 4 through 12. I attended the summer program, which ran five days-a-week for about six weeks, on two occasions. I don’t remember the dates (the second time was in 1991) but suffice to say I was pretty young at the time and would have rather been out having fun instead of using my brain. My parents, however, thought it was a good way for me improve my verbal skills (my dad had the math part covered) so that I could do well on the SAT and get into a good college.

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