Sunday, May 20, 2018

That's Not How Any of This Works: "Home to Roost" (Suits S7 Ep6)

A little bit of background: Yesterday it was chilly and rainy in Denver, so I worked out and then spent the rest of the day lounging around watching the royal wedding, which BBC America is STILL playing on a continuous loop.

Guys. Enough.

Anyway, then I went to see The Who's Tommy at DCPA. I knew nothing about it except for the song Pinball Wizard, so when the story went from Dad is MIA in World War II to Mom finds a new love who wants to marry her but then HOLY SHIT DAD'S NOT DEAD AND HE COMES HOME AND SHOOTS AND KILLS THE FIANCE, I was a bit taken aback. Then inexplicably Tommy is in some kind of weird fugue-ish state that combines aspects of PTSD, autism, catatonia, and who knows whatever else, and then after a Christmas party Mom and Dad go out and Uncle Ernie babysits and FUCKING MOLESTS TOMMY AND WHAT THE HELL AM I WATCHING. Then he gets bullied by cousins, and his dad and uncle take him to a prostitute, i.e., pay an adult to rape a child with severe sensory issues, but the prostitute sings a really catchy song, so I guess it's OK? Also, Tommy's really good at pinball even though he can't see or hear or do anything, and this makes him famous.

Then Mom and Dad decide they've had enough of Tommy's shit and the people with the white coats are on their way. But before they arrive, Mom freaks out and smashes Tommy's head on a mirror and suddenly he's better, which is not how any of this works. He's still famous and he grapples with fame and identity and purpose and then everybody seems happy and it's over.  I'm totally confused as to how this show ever got made.

So I had this sense of "nothing makes sense and that's not how any of this works," combined with royal-wedding-on-the-brain, when I thought, I wonder what Meghan Markle's show Suits is like? And the answer is, hilariously improbable yet not entirely unwatchable. But in watching it, I kept thinking, that's not how law firms work. That's not how law works. That's not how trials work. That's not how any of this works. And it was like I was writing a recap in my head, so I decided to make it official and write it down.

--------------------------------

So, Suits. The show just finished Season 7, but you have to pay for seasons 1 through 6, and that wasn't happening. I chose Season 7, Episode 6 because it was very plot-driven and fast-moving but also bonkers.

Long story short, Mike is a brainy whiz-kid law dude who looks to be about 25 but somehow has already managed to:
  • get himself hired as a lawyer by a schmancy New York law firm that only hires Harvard Law grads (*eye roll*), even though he didn't go to Harvard or any law school and isn't actually a lawyer, he just printed a fake Harvard diploma. Sure.
  • get busted for being a fraud (see above) and serve some time in jail, but now he's out.
  • somehow redeem himself and get admitted to the bar, which strikes me as improbable given his criminal history and the nature of his offenses, but OK, whatever. 
He's now back again at BigLaw, working for Harvey, his big firm partner/mentor dude who is a corporate law hot-shot. But Mike likes to work for the common good as well, and he somehow he manages to score a deal that allows him to work for BigLaw and also do some pro bono work for a clinic that represents the unwashed masses in public interest cases. Also, he's a disgraced ex-con who I'm guessing is working for this firm as an associate, but his office is roughly the size of the entire downstairs of my house. 

On the "previouslys", we learn that the main story line involves a pro bono case in which Mike represents Oscar, whose son died in prison after a fight. The son was a month from parole, though, so he wouldn't have been acting up and the whole thing is very fishy. At first everyone thinks it was just a one-time incident involving the prison being too cheap to have enough guards and medics on duty, but then Mike uncovers a huge criminal conspiracy involving the private prison company and a construction company. Their scheme is to use illegal prison labor to build their facilities while also generating fights involving guys who are about to get out on parole, meaning that their sentences get extended and the construction company gets more illegal prison labor. It is supremely evil. Mike wants justice for Oscar's son, and rightly so.

The problem is, BigLaw has brought in Dule Hill, who used to be an intern for President Bartlet, as a hot-shit partner. One of Dule Hill's clients is the evil construction company and they are NOT pleased about the prison litigation, so Mike has a conflict of interest and can't continue representing Oscar. Mike hands the case off to Oliver, a whiny annoying dude he used to work with over at the Do-Gooder Clinic.  Mike also signs an agreement that he will not work on the prison case any more, and in addition to signing the agreement, Harvey makes him give his "word" that he will abide by the contract. Which strikes me as overkill, because isn't that what the signature is for?

But Harvey obviously knows Mike better than I do, because as we will find out, even with that extra assurance, it takes Mike about 5 minutes to decide, "fuck it, this case is too important. Yes, I gave Harvey my word, but I also gave Oscar my word, and justice must be done." So in addition to being confused about what it means to give people your "word," Mike is back working on a case that he shouldn't be working on because he's conflicted out AND he agreed not to touch it. Something tells me that this is not going to end well.

One of the things that is making Mike so gung-ho about the case's prospects is that he has found a key witness to tie together all the various parts of this conspiracy, and it's a GUY WHO ALSO TRIED TO KILL MIKE WHILE HE WAS IN PRISON!!! I will refer to this gentleman as Father Phil, because he's played by Paul Schulze, aka Father Phil Intintola, Carmela's schnorrer of a priest on the Sopranos (and who Tony Soprano hilariously referred to as "Monsignor Jughead"). Before he was an inmate in the same prison as Mike, Father Phil was in another prison where he got pulled into a scheme to receive rewards in exchange for picking fights with guys whose paroles were about to expire, so their sentences would get extended. Sound familiar? But Father Phil doesn't feel particularly inclined to help Mike out, so Mike lures Father Phil with the prospect of big money that he could set aside for his daughter.

Also, in the course of maybe a day and a half, the case turns into a class action because there's more than one inmate involved, which is not how class actions work, nor do classes get certified when the whole case is less than a week old.

Somehow, notwithstanding working for BigLaw which, like most big law firms, makes its money on the exhausted, billable-hour-generating backs of its associates, Mike feels like he can get away with spending his waking hours poring over documents with Oliver and tracking down potential witnesses, even though the higher-ups at BigLaw are like, "dude, where the fuck are you? We've got big money corporate cases you need to be working on."  

Also, Mike is engaged to and cohabitating with the Duchess of Sussex, who also works at BigLaw. She realizes that Mike is actually working on the prison case, in violation of his agreement and his word to Harvey, and she is NOT HAPPY. Not only because he could get fired, but because he gave Harvey his word. But Mike is committed to helping Oscar, so he presses on. 

No one brings up the fact that continuing representation in a matter that presents a conflict with client's interests is a big no-no, and given what it took him to get admitted to the bar, it seems like Mike wouldn't be so cavalier about jeopardizing his status. That strikes me as at LEAST as big a deal as whether he gave Harvey his word.

Mike and Oliver go to see Father Phil and try to get the name of his "source," who I guess can corroborate the conspiracy.  Father Phil wants money up front. Mike and Oliver explain that without the source there may not be any money because the other side has filed a motion to dismiss.

What, what? What kind of motion to dismiss? Why now? They make it sound like the issue before the judge is whether there's enough evidence to proceed with the case, but that's not how any of this works. In a civil lawsuit, you file a complaint that says, the other side did bad things, and they should pay damages for it. Then, the parties engage in discovery, meaning they get to seek documents, information, witnesses, whatever, to help them prepare for trial.

And Mike and Oliver are doing that - they've tracked down Father Phil, they've got other guys they could be talking to, they're still in the process of building a case.  But for some reason, there's a hearing tomorrow on the motion to dismiss, and Mike and Oliver tell Father Phil that if he doesn't give up his source, the whole case will be thrown out. Father Phil's word isn't enough - they need corroboration. 

Except they don't need corroboration, at least not yet. They're still doing discovery. They're still finding things out. In a civil case you don't file motions to dismiss that amount to, "judge, even thought the parties aren't finished with discovery and are still building their cases, you should make a determination at this arbitrary point in time about the sufficiency of the evidence in the case." If there was no evidence after going through discovery, or if the evidence didn't support the plaintiff's case, THEN you could file a motion to dismiss, but it's totally premature in Mike and Oliver's case. It makes no sense. That's not how motions to dismiss work.

Also, as my friend Christi pointed out, it would be a motion for summary judgment, not a motion to dismiss, but to explain the intricacies of that would add significantly to the length of this post, so suffice it to say from a civil procedure standpoint, that's not how any of this works.

Plus, you don't find out about a motion to dismiss (or a motion for summary judgment) on the same day that you find out that the motion has been set for hearing tomorrow. That's not how court scheduling works. Motions get filed, the other side gets 30 days to file a brief in response, then the movant gets 14 days to file a reply, then the court looks at its calendar and set the hearing for a Wednesday that is three months from now. Nothing is happening tomorrow.

BUT WAIT!!! Apparently 7 years ago, Father Phil went to a prosecutor with evidence that the prisoners were being mistreated, but the prosecutor didn't give a shit. So there IS corroboration they could pursue. But the hearing's tomorrow! Hurry, guys!!

Luckily, that afternoon Mike and Oliver get a sit-down with the prosecutor, who confirms that Father Phil came to her alleging that he was being victimized as part of a conspiracy by the prison company to abuse prisoners. They refer to Father Phil by his character's name, Frank Gallo, which makes me think of Joey Gallo, the fake name that Joe Pesci gave Judge Munster in My Cousin Vinny, when he was trying to convince him that he was a reputable New York lawyer. Coincidence? 

Anyway, the prosecutor believed Father Phil but the case never went anywhere because the higher-ups weren't interested: "no one gives a shit about prisoners and they way they're treated."  Mike and Oliver then tell the prosecutor that she's going to tell the court what she knows, or they're "going to subpoena her records under the Freedom of Information Act." 

Mike and Oliver need to take all the seats, because that's now how any of this works.  First of all, you can either make a request for records under FOIA, or you issue a subpoena, but you don't do both. Also, a prosecutor's records are not the kind of federal agency records that you get through a FOIA request. For a couple of legal whiz kids, these two are not so sharp. 

But neither is the prosecutor, because she just says, "you guys are a couple of little shits" in a "curses, foiled again!" type of voice, so it looks like Click and Clack are back in business. They've got their corroboration.

Bad news, though. Back at BigLaw, Harvey (Mike's boss) has gotten a call from Father Phil that Harvey and Mike "better not fuck him over again." Harvey is all worried because he knows that Father Phil tried to kill Mike, and he doesn't know why Mike is communicating with him. In order to assure Harvey that he is not working on the prison case, Mike says that Father Phil is helping him on a different case at the clinic and that he's got everything under control. Apparently, even though Father Phil has seemingly been in jail for the bulk of his adult life, his assistance on a case involving the Brooklyn Housing Authority is invaluable because "he's from Brooklyn." Sure, Mike. Harvey is understandably dubious at this patently absurd explanation. 

Meanwhile, the B plot this week involves Louis Litt, the other big lawyer in the firm.  Louis is supposedly a bulldog of a great lawyer, but also bat-shit crazy with a tendency to blow up and yell at people in a truly alarming way. Louis has Issues for which he sees a psychiatrist with a German accent, so you know he's legit (the psychiatrist, not Louis). Louis's behavioral "quirks" are often played for laughs even though they're not remotely funny. He's abusive and awful and sad.

Early in the season, Louis was freaking out because he had just been dumped by his pregnant fiancee, so he took it out on a couple of the associates he's in charge of, including Stephanie. He told Stephanie that she was an idiot and that no one would ever want to procreate with her. Rather than tell Louis to go fuck himself, Stephanie stuck around, only to later get fired for failing to do some assignment that the Duchess had given her. Stephanie goes to work for BigLaw's rival firm, and then sues Louis for sexual harassment.

Louis being Louis, he predictably loses his shit about the lawsuit - it has to go away because he's been accused of sexual harassment before and he doesn't want to get a bad rep.  I think that ship has sailed, Louis. Louis tells the Duchess that she needs to take care of it, but she informs him that there were tons of witnesses to his awful behavior and it's not going to be so easy. He tells her to send someone over to Stephanie's new firm to pressure her to drop the suit. 

Do I need to explain to you that that's not how you defend a sexual harassment case?  I didn't think so.

Katrina, a BigLaw associate, shows up in Stephanie's office to talk her out of the sexual harassment suit. I will refer to Katrina as Jody Sawyer, because she is played by Amanda Schull from Center Stage, perhaps the greatest cheesy ballet movie ever made. Anyway, after being a prima ballerina for Cooper Nielson's new ballet company, where bad feet and under-developed technique were no impediment to a great dancing career, Jody apparently took a job as an lawyer and she's friends with Stephanie. But she also happens to be the friend who convinced Stephanie to take the shitty job at BigLaw to begin with, so Stephanie's not buying what Jody Sawyer is selling.  Stephanie was humiliated and is convinced that everyone thinks that she had to leave BigLaw because she "couldn't hack it," and that this lawsuit will fix that. Stephanie will see Louis in court.

Now, I'm not an expert in employment/sexual harassment law, and I'm certainly not a defender of Louis's behavior, but I have doubts about the merits of Stephanie's case. Louis was an unforgivable jerk and said some horrible things relating to Stephanie's sex, but she was fired for cause by someone else, totally unrelated to the incident with Louis. Also, it took her all of 3 minutes to get a new and seemingly better job, so I'm not sure what her damages would be. Employment lawyer friends, feel free to weigh in in the comments. 

Back at the firm, Dule Hill rails at Harvey that his construction company client is PISSED that not only has the prison case not gone away, but now it's a class action and there's a witness from another prison, and somehow it's all Dule Hill's fault. Somehow, Dule Hill and his construction company client construe the conflict rule to mean that "not only can no one in your firm work on a case that conflicts with our interests" (which is true), but also that "any lawyer you refer the case to must also make the case go away," which is not how any of this works.  If I represent a client in a case, I will have to withdraw from the case if someone in my firm represents a different client with a conflict. However, that doesn't mean that I also have to make sure that the next lawyer who takes the case actively craters the case, THEREBY VIOLATING THEIR OBLIGATION TO THE CLIENT TO ZEALOUSLY REPRESENT THEM. Dule Hill is an asshole, and so is his evil client.

Also, according to Dule Hill, tomorrow's motion to dismiss in the prison case is now a "trial." OK. Whatever. 

Anyway, with the reference to "inmate from another prison," Harvey puts two and two together, realizes that the inmate in question is Father Phil, and that Mike is still working on the prison case. He's not happy.  He finds the Duchess doing research in a "law library" that is full of random books that would be useless for legal research processes, plus nobody uses books to do research anymore. The Duchess lies and says she doesn't know where Mike is or what he's working on. Harvey goes to Oscar and pretends to be checking to make sure that Oscar is satisfied with Mike's pro bono representation, and Oscar's enthusiastic two thumbs up confirms to Harvey that Mike is working on the prison case. Harvey purses his lips.

Harvey confronts Mike, who says that justice is more important than "some client's bottom line," conveniently leaving out the part about the conflict and thus the violation of the Rules of Professional Conduct, which could put Mike's license at risk. Harvey tells Mike to either give case to Oliver or Harvey will show up in court tomorrow and spill the beans about the breached agreement, which will "leave the judge no choice but to toss the case" and Oscar won't get a dime. 

My ears prick up, because that's not how any of this works.

In sexual discrimination land, Louis is making prune smoothies in the office break-room, as one does, when Jody Sawyer comes to him with an offer of settlement from Stephanie. These people are speedy drafters of pleadings. The agreement requires Louis to pay money, which he's fine with, but also to admit guilt, which he's not fine with. Jody Sawyer says, you're not going to do better than this, and whatever you do, don't go see Stephanie.

Raise your hand if you think Louis is going to go see Stephanie. OK, you can all put your hands down now.

At Mike and the Duchess's apartment, the Duchess is VERY upset that she had to lie to Harvey. She tells Mike to pick one - work at the clinic or stay at BigLaw, but he can't do both. She's not wrong. Mike goes to Oliver and tells him he's got to take the prison case on his own. Oliver pisses and moans about how he's being left hanging high and dry, but Mike tells him to man up and get the goddamned job done. I echo that sentiment. Nobody likes whiners, Oliver.

Predictably, Louis goes to see Stephanie - he runs into her as she's getting out of a cab after work. There's no explanation of how Louis knows where and at what time Stephanie's cab will be dropping her off.  Anyhoo, Louis says he'll pay the money but won't admit to the sexual harassment. She tells him to go piss up a rope. He takes the bait and loses his cool and tells Stephanie that she's a pathetic loser who got fired for cause and then concocted the lawsuit out of spite.  I hate it when I agree with Louis. But Stephanie's got a room-full of witnesses to present to a jury, so bring it, Louis. It's ON.

That went well. 

Somehow, in the five minutes between Stephanie and Louis's fight and the next scene, which takes place that same night in the law firm, the Duchess and others in the firm have been subpoenaed to testify against Louis. Meaning that Stephanie's lawyers prepared the subpoenas, found process servers, and got the witnesses served after business hours, all in less time than it takes me to type the word "subpoena." Impressive.

The next morning, Jody Sawyer tells Louis about the aftermath of his stupid confrontation with Stephanie - the subpoenas have been served and witnesses will be testifying against him. Basically, Louis is in big trouble. Louis's response is to tell Jody that she and the others should just LIE UNDER OATH.

Oh, Louis.

Some mousy associate says, "why don't you just apologize to her?" Light bulb. So Louis goes to Stephanie, who says, "if you think that coming to me with an apology is going to get me to drop the suit, you have another think coming!"

Which is exactly what then happens.  Louis apologizes and tells her about his pregnant fiance dumping him and why he acted like such an asshole and she commiserates that she's 34 and a dried up old spinster who will never meet anyone or have kids, and that's why his words upset her so much. They make up! No more lawsuit! Because apparently that's how sexual harassment lawsuits get filed and settled! (It's not, actually.)

Back to the prison case. It's the day of the big hearing/trial. Oliver is confident: "this motherfucker's going down." Go Oliver!

The defense's argument is that the plaintiffs/witnesses are all convicted felons who can't be believed because they're just trying to stick it to the Man. Which isn't a reason to not let the jury hear the evidence and make their own credibility determination, and I don't know why the judge is entertaining this argument.

Oliver says, not so fast - the case hinges on the word of a US attorney who will testify that Father Phil told her he was abused .... so, hearsay? Oliver, you're not making sense.

Defense lawyer says that the US attorney's case file is inadmissible because it wasn't turned over to the defense in discovery -- but discovery wasn't finished, or it began and ended yesterday, so I don't know what the hell is going on.

Oliver shoots back that he only asked for and received the file yesterday, so it's admissible because the US attorney wouldn't have had time to falsify something in such a short amount of time. What? WHAT ARE YOU SAYING OLIVER.

Either Professor Rose glossed over that rule in Evidence class, or I was asleep.

The judge takes that word salad and, to his credit, says that the case should move forward unless someone can give him a compelling reason to dismiss it. Anyone? Beuller?

At which point Dule Hill makes a perfectly timed entrance and bursts into the courtroom, yelling at the judge that he has a binding agreement that says that BigLaw won't work on the case, but Mike breached the agreement, meaning that the case has to be dismissed. WHAT? I'm super confused. Dule Hill then says as proof, he'll put Oliver up on the stand to testify about Mike's involvement.

This is when my head explodes. THAT'S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS!

Dule Hill is not an attorney of record in the case. He does not represent either party to the lawsuit. He has no right to call witnesses or make arguments or do ANYTHING, and certainly has no basis for making one of the parties' attorneys get on the stand to testify as a witness - that's not a thing. Dule Hill should not be talking to the judge at all. Any judge in this situation would say, "I have no idea who you are but shut up and sit down before I throw your ass in jail for contempt."

Instead, THE JUDGE GRANTS THE MOTION TO DISMISS!!!  HE DISMISSES THE CASE!! WHICH MAKES NO SENSE! The conflict agreement is between BigLaw and the Clinic - the legal consequences for breaching it would be that Mike and BigLaw can't work on the case, not that the case gets dismissed. But I don't have a fake law degree from Harvard, so what do I know. 

I would also note (again) that the far more serious issue is that Mike's participation in a case in which he has a conflict is a major breach of the ethical rules, but in Suits-world, nobody seems concerned about a call from the Office of Attorney Regulation. Mike is just pissed because Dule Hill made a big stink in open court and embarrassed him, instead of coming to him privately so they could work it out. Whatever. Shut up, Mike.

This whole thing is totally insane. This show is insane. 

And I will probably keep watching it. 

Wednesday, May 09, 2018

Twenty-one

Dearest Emma,

Today is your birthday. You would have been twenty-one years old.

Generally, I do not cry anymore every time I think about you. I do cry every time I talk about you, but usually I can think about you without breaking down.

But not today. I cried the entire drive to work this morning. I had a sense of deja vu, calling back to the plane ride to Boston for your funeral, when I leaned my head against the window and wept the whole time.  I'm crying as I write this.

Today is rough. Twenty-one is a big birthday. Official legal adulthood. In my mind, you are a kid - a kid on the cusp of adulthood, but a kid nonetheless. But you would be heading into your last year of college. You would be preparing for what comes next. Independence. Pursuing your interests. Pursuing a career. 

When I write about you, I try to think of something we did together - keep alive the memory. It's playoff hockey season, and you were a Caps fan just like the rest of us. You were always part of the group that went to a Caps game the night before Thanksgiving. You and Jason always hung out at that game - he really loved you.


I ache with the longing to talk to you, to hear about your adventures. Maybe you would come visit and I would take you snowboarding. Maybe we would go on a roadtrip.

With each passing year, the thought of who and what and where you would be becomes hazier.

I think a lot about your father. My brother. I wish you could see how extraordinary he has been and continues to be in the aftermath of all this tragedy. He is so solid, so steadfast, so decent, so good. He is such an amazing father to Ollie and Hazel, just as he was to you. He has found a way to live with joy, with new love, with hope.

I don't know that I could have done it. I mean, I could have done it because there's no alternative. But it's hard to fathom.

Our lives continue. They are productive and mostly happy and full.

But there will always be a big hole where you should be.

I will continue to do my annual climbs in your memory - your yahrtzeit. You will always be part of us, part of our narrative. We will always love you and miss you.

All my love,

Wendy

Tuesday, May 08, 2018

Rhapsody in Blue

I live in a 122 year old house that I adore, but which is undeniably a work in progress.

She needed new floors. New configuration. New bathrooms. A new kitchen. New paint.

Slowly but surely, slowly but surely, I'm making her pretty again.

Bringing color to the house is a huge part of that. Color brightens my mood. Color is life.

From drab and dingy whites and greys - not to mention some truly godawful wallpaper - I have painted every single room in the house. My room is turquoise and citron. The kids' room is wasabi green. My bathroom is sage green. My workout room is coral. My hallway is yellow. My living room is lavender-grey. My kitchen is orange.

But the exterior of the house was depressing. I've been wanting to repaint the exterior for nine years. But painting the exterior of an old Victorian, that's very tall with a very steep pointy roof, and all kinds of detail, is expensive. I couldn't afford it for a long time.

But now I can.

I hired a company on the recommendation of a friend. When the owner showed up at my house for the initial consult, he had stars in his eyes when he knocked on my door.

"Your house is so beautiful!!!" he gushed.

"She can be," I grinned. "That's where you come in."

"I have ideas," he said.

"Tell me," I said.

Turns out we had similar ideas. I wanted something dramatic and elegant. I wanted the door to have a pop of color. I wanted the front porch to not look like it led into a crack den.

They started painting last Monday. We started here:


That house is the color of despair and old bras. And there is no color I despise more than that dark maroon/burgundy on the window trim.

We made progress. The kids came home from school the first day and called me in a panic.

"MOM WHY IS THERE HAZARD TAPE AROUND OUR HOUSE I'M SCARED!!!"

 
It took a little longer than anticipated. We had a few days of rain. And as Ray, the painter, said, "your house is the most dangerous house I've ever painted."
 
But she is beautiful now.


I returned home from work last night and could not stop grinning. I just stood there, smiling. I love everything about it. It makes me so happy. Color makes me so happy.

Now, on to replace some of the baseboards in the dining room....

Wednesday, May 02, 2018

Feel it in your heart and feel it in your soul

With every reunion, I take away different things.

I wasn't in touch with my India peeps for a really long time. Like, for twenty years after graduating from AES, I didn't see anyone, except for a few isolated incidents.

Then came the advent of Facebook and social media, and all of a sudden all of these wonderful people came flooding back into my life. This incredible experience - the magical confluence of being the right age, with the right people, in the right place, under the right circumstances - went from being a huge part of my life, but one that was undeniably in the past, to a current active presence in my everyday existence.

About 11 years ago, when I was living in Hawaii, Lisa and I reconnected on Facebook and via our blogs. As Facebook grew, so did my connections with people from my peripatetic childhood - friends from Israel, from high school in Virginia, from college and law school, and best of all, from India.

I reconnected with Kristin, who I have seen once in 20 years, but who is and always has been one of my favorite people in the world. I reconnected with Sophie. With Jason and Jason and Greg and Russ and Kassie and Mark and Chris and Daniel Azul and Kim and Julie and Susanna and Kristina and Raphaela and Robin and Sid and Rajiv and Paul and Boo and Carter and Jackie and on and on. We are all over the world, but I am in contact with some of them on a daily basis.

Then I started attending reunions and my head and my heart exploded. In 2010, it was emotional and sensory overload from connecting with these people and these experiences after 23 years.

In 2014, the love-buzz, the intensity of the connections, grew stronger.

In 2015, there was another big all-class reunion, and increasing sense that the India crew was a family. And not even one comprised of people that I had known at school - it was expanding to include people who I hadn't known in India because we weren't there at the same time, but who I came to know and love through the reunions themselves. It was expanding to include significant others. People like Ritu and Seana and Anne-Lene and Paul and Ingrid and Kerry and Kendall and Nicole and Sean and Marin and Lauri came into my life.


What struck me this past weekend is how much our reunions fill in the gaps of memory, which is a huge thing for me. When I can't remember, I feel like I'm losing a part of myself.

I was sitting at dinner and we were talking about how much freedom we had in India. How our parents let us do the craziest things at the ages of 16 and 17, before there were cell phones or even reliable landlines to parts of India.

"Hi, Mom and Dad! I was hired to be an extra in a BBC mini-series in Allahabad! Greg and Emily and Dan and I are going. They're sending us by train and putting us up in a hotel. See ya in 4 days!"

"OK, honey, have fun!"


"Hey, Mom and Dad! We've chartered a bus to go to Rishikesh to go white-water rafting with a couple of Canadian stoners. There won't be any chaperones or anyone over the age of 17, and we'll be camping by the river."

"Have a great time!"


WTF.

Jason remarked that the Rishikesh trip was dangerous.

"That bus ride was rough," he said. "And Kassie almost drowned in the river."

I don't remember that at all. I remember sitting around the camp fire. I remember jumping out of our rafts at one point and floating down with our life vests. I remember that Sandy and I took a shower in a freezing cold waterfall. But I don't remember any danger. Maybe I was just oblivious.


After reminiscing about the BBC shoot in Allahabad, I now remember sitting next to Saeed Jaffrey during a crowd shot and totally embarrassing myself by saying, "you look familiar! I know you! Haven't we met?" He gently explained that he was a actor and I had probably seen him in some of his movies.

We talked about the mini-course trip to Kerala senior year, and how we got busted for skinny-dipping in the ocean. I had very faint memories of that but they have all come back to me.

On Saturday, my parents had a ton of food left over from a political fundraiser they hosted that was sparsely attended, so everyone came over to hang out in the afternoon.


Jason B. brought his parents, which was amazing. His mom is hilarious and at one point pulled me aside and whispered conspiratorially, "Wendy, isn't that your ex-boyfriend over there??"

She was pointing to Greg. Who I dated for four months over thirty years ago, and who I haven't thought of as an ex-boyfriend for at least twenty-four of those years.

"Yes, I suppose it is," I laughed.

She was very concerned that I had recovered from the break-up. I found it hysterical, and assured her I was fine.

Anyway, I had exactly zero recollection that back in India, she and my mom and a couple of other women had a standing weekly bridge game and were close friends. And now, because of our reunions, they are back in touch and have plans to get together, along with Lisa's mom, Betty, and some other India friends.

As the years go by, the arms of our experience grow longer and longer, and envelop more and more people into the warm, loving hug of our reunions.

It's hard to fathom how many years have gone by.

At one point on Saturday night, a group of us was dancing and laughing. Lisa and I were literally jumping up and down. I was delighted but also amazed.



I thought, how is it that we are only a couple years away from being 50 years old? How is that possible?

I wouldn't say that I still feel 17, but I certainly don't feel any older than maybe 35, in terms of my physical fitness and approach to life.

India lives in all of us, and it keeps us young. We keep each other young.

The last dance is always to All Night Long.

Nicole said, "are you going to cry?"

"I'm not going to cry," I responded.

I cried.

Looking around at this group of old friends, all of whom feel the same magic that I do when we're together, all of whom look back on our time together as lightening in a bottle, I cried with joy for the love we have for each other and I cried with sadness because even before they're gone I miss them.

In my head, the picture of our time in that exotic place so many years ago feels like a painting that is being dusted off. With every reunion, the image is clearer and comes more fully into focus. Usually the passage of time causes the opposite to happen.

But we are our own time machine, bringing back the past and making it our present and future.