Osler's Razor

Today is the last day of my my first class at St. Thomas. It's hard to describe the feeling I have about that-- it has been a wonderful time of transition and growth, and these students have been a big part of it. Those of you who have been my students in the past know that I try to do something to make first and last days special, but this is special without any effort.

In preparing for this last class, I dug up the seating chart from the very first class I taught at Baylor-- Crim. Prac. and Pro. in Fall, 2000. What struck me as I looked over that chart was how many of the students in that small class I remember, and still keep in touch with.

I just saw Tresse Golden a few months ago in Waco. She seemed so happy, and that made me happy. It was Tresse, in line at a coffee shop, who first told me about the plane hitting the World Trade Center.
Brad Bogan is a federal defender in San Antonio, and someone I have had the pleasure to see regularly.
Jim Dedman and I correspond often, and I recently wrote a little bit for his firm.
Emanuela Prister, large with child, was my host just this summer in Dallas as I spoke to a group there.
David Moore, of course, is someone I did not lose touch with, as our careers got more tangled up long after that class.
Darrel Spinks, who practices in San Saba and heads up the EMS, actually wrote to me during the class this morning.

There was something deeply moving about seeing that old seating chart, with the names written in the hand of these people I was lucky enough to teach-- Joe Garcia's clear hand, Kimmy Wright's careful script. Tomorrow is another first group, and I don't doubt I will remember them just as well, as they are just as memorable.

Life is good, if perhaps too fast.