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..hands of time ....January 13, 2008   I glance down at my watch.  It has been fifteen minutes since I completed the discovery deposition of the plaintiff.  At its completion, opposing counsel began the deposition of my client's insured.  I am listening with only one ear.  Fifteen minutes have elapsed and my opponent has not completed his soliloquy about the purpose of the deposition and its rather elementary rules.  The court reporter is smiling at me even as the plaintiff's attorney drones.  I am away from home and I do not know this reporter, but she is looking at me like every reporter before her.  She longs to hear me question.  Unlike the present speaker, I do not assume the listener is some kind of nightshade vegetable.  My exhibits have been marked and my questions sound as if they'd been composed first in an outline.  I speak slowly and clearly and at a perfect pitch and volume.  I understand that I should not talk when another is talking.  I am respectful even when I have no respect for the person to whom I speak.  I take care to be relevant. I glance at my watch again but, this time, my eyes wander to the back of my left hand.  It does not look like mine.  I take my right hand from my lap and look at it.  It matches the left and I am further distracted.  I am suddenly and silently alien unto myself.  The fingers are still bony and double-jointed.  But the skin is ever so thin and I know it won't be long until they resemble crepe paper.  Before I turn my attention back to the proceeding--before I listen with both ears--I grasp the skin of my hand between thumb and index finger and gently pull it away from my skeleton.  I release it to test my skin's elasticity.  Precious little remains. Several hours pass before the deposition ends.  I am slow to pack up and take my leave.  I am alone with the court reporter who is young and dressed in such a way as to insure future work.  I gather my file material and before I can bow and express thanks, she tells me that I do not look like everybody else.  Reflexively, I raise both hands to my face.  No, not that, she says. previous..|..current..|..archives..|..1st quarter index..|..next

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