A Squirrel's Escape, and the Best Ice Cream Ever

As I carried my laundry back from the washroom at my apartment complex on Friday morning, out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of a grey blur darting past me through the grass.

I turned and saw that the blur was in fact a squirrel, running full speed toward a large pine tree.

What was amazing was how fast this creature was moving. I've seen squirrels scurry away from me when I approached them. I've seen them run and hop out of the way of cars on the road, and I've seen them run from each other in the trees.

But this squirrel was not moving like that. Its tail was stiff, and it did not hop at all as it sprinted. Every muscle in its body seemed to be focused on generating speed and in keeping a beeline for that pine tree. It shot through the grass like an efficient, low flying bullet.

I thought, I've never seen a squirrel move like that. I've never seen a squirrel move that fast in my life.

But a second later, I understood why it was moving with such concentrated urgency.

All of a sudden, a magnificent hawk descended from the sky, its wings spread wide and talons outstretched. It came in right behind the squirrel and flew within a couple of inches of the tail.

The squirrel proved to be fast enough, though. It made it to the base of the tree. The hawk had to land short to keep from hitting the tree, but the squirrel hit it going full speed and disappeared around the other side of the trunk.

The hawk stood on the ground for less than two seconds before it flew up to perch on a nearby clothes line pole. It looked around, and then studied me for a few seconds before flying off.

The hawk did not stay still long enough for me to get a good look at its features other than its white and brown underside. It was probably either a red shouldered hawk or a red tail hawk. The squirrel escaped, but I do not know if it later succumbed to a heart attack...

After finishing my laundry, I headed out to the law school for "Admitted Students' Day." Each spring, FSU Law hosts such a day to entice those high quality applicants who have been fortunate enough to gain acceptance as part of the incoming fall class. As a law school ambassador, it was my job to give a tour of the campus facilities and resources. I did my best to convince these prospects that if they are committed to going to law school, then enrolling at FSU would be a good choice.

After the tour ended, I took the students to the law school rotunda where they were serving "Marble Slab" ice cream. I had never tasted Marble Slab ice cream before, and I got in line behind dozens of others who were waiting to be served. I felt sorry for the worker doing all the dipping, but he must have had very strong wrists and hands.

When it was my turn, I ordered vanilla ice cream with a cookie dough topping. The server scooped what I thought was a rather small portion of vanilla, and then literally put it on a cold marble slab in front of him. With two spatula-type instruments, he kneaded the cookie dough into the ice cream.

As I watched him work, I noted that the ice cream itself had more the density of a paste or a dough than the cream I was used to. It did not break up as he worked with it. After a few moments, the server put the ice cream in a paper cup and gave it to me with a spoon.

When I tasted it, I decided immediately that this was the best ice cream I had ever had in my life. The thickness and richness also made the serving much larger than I thought. One cup filled me up. I did not go back for seconds, despite it being the most delicious ice cream I had ever tasted.

This Marble Slab ice cream beat a longstanding record. Previously, the best ice cream I had ever eaten was on a summer day in Wake Forest, North Carolina, when I was about five years old. I was living at my grandmother's house, and all my cousins from that side of the family were there, along with my parents and my brother. I played in the yard with my cousins while the adults all sat around and talked.

The adults also set about making homemade chocolate ice cream, which we were all eager to taste. I remember my dad turning the churn by hand for what seemed like forever.

When it was finally ready, I remember how delicious and cold it tasted. Like the Marble Slab, the texture of that chocolate ice cream was different from any other I've ever had, too.

In later years, we made homemade ice cream again at family gatherings, but it was with an electric churn that did not need to be turned by hand. It was also never quite as good as that first time in Wake Forest.

The Marble Slab ice cream that I had on Friday was better, though. Here is a link to their business:

http://www.marbleslab.com/

After I finished eating it in the law school rotunda, I went to watch Florida State's baseball team take on Wake Forest at Dick Howser stadium. Wake Forest University's campus used to be in that town of the same name where I once lived with my grandmother and ate homemade ice cream for the first time, but the university moved to Winston-Salem some years before I was born.

It was an enjoyable day.

Until Next Time,

Nathan Marshburn

Back to the Future in the Civic Center Parking Lot

One night a few weeks ago, I left the law school library close to midnight. Walking up Pensacola Street toward the multi-decked garage where my car was located, I passed by the large and now totally empty Leon County Civic Center parking lot. It had rained that night, a warm soaking rain that made the orange glow of the street lamps reflect off the asphalt.

A lone car zoomed up from behind me on Pensacola, and then cut in front of me to zip into the Civic Center parking lot. I recognized it as an old model Toyota Celica.

To my fascination, the driver turned his wheels sharply and slid his car across the lot, nearly going up on two wheels. The driver began doing all sorts of sliding stunts at a high rate of speed. I stopped walking and leaned up against a railing to watch the show. He put his car in reverse, floored the gas pedal, then whipped the car around to speed forward. More than once, I thought the car was going to flip over.

The nighttime stunts in this large, empty lot reminded me immediately of a couple of scenes from Back to the Future, one of the great movies of the 80s and one of the best time travel movies ever made. In one scene from the film, Marty McFly has to get a DeLorean up to 88 mph in an empty mall parking lot to jump back in time and escape terrorists. At the end of the movie, there is another scene where Marty travels back to that same moment and is actually able to watch himself from a distance as the DeLorean races through the mall parking lot.

I felt a little like I was in a movie, leaning up against a railing and watching this car speeding and skidding across the lot. The driver continued his tricks for about two or three minutes before zooming out of the lot and away down Pensacola Street...

While this story has little to do with law school (and not to condone what was probably illegal activity), it was unique to come out of the law library after many hours of study and be entertained by a real life scene reminiscent of one of my favorite childhood movies.

I tried to find a movie clip on the Internet of the two scenes from Back to the Future that I am talking about. Nothing was very good, though. Instead, I found an enthralling clip on YouTube that a guy almost as nerdy as me about the movie has posted. He retraces in his own car the route that the DeLorean took through the actual Twin Pines Mall parking lot- only it is the daytime, cars are everywhere, and he is driving much, much slower. Check it out. Or not.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=51c-lRPokj8

Until Next Time,

Nathan Marshburn

The Tallahassee Little Theater

Last night, I experienced another pleasant side of Tallahassee. As my friend and fellow mock trial team member, John, told me, many of us in law school have our outside interests to help keep a balance in law school. A significant number of students are marathon runners, for instance. I write a blog. John's hobby is acting, and for fun he participates in community theater.

John invited me to a production of Agatha Christie's Witness for the Prosecution at the Tallahassee Little Theater. I went to see the show last night, and I was very impressed.

The story takes place in London in 1953. Leonard Vole, a financially strapped young man, has been charged with the murder of a wealthy older lady who befriended him. All the evidence is stacked against Leonard, and the only person who can give any support at all to his version of what happened is his "adoring..?" wife, Romaine. So the story and creative plot twists begin.

My friend had a large part in the play, beginning in the second act. He played Mr. Myers, the prosecutor. John did a great job. I recognized some of his antics and mannerisms from mock trial practice or competitions, and on more than one occasion he caused both the audience and myself to burst out in laughter. I spoke with John afterwards to tell him that I liked the performance. As exams are coming up, he was in a hurry to get out of his wig and costume, return home and continue his course outlines.

The theater building itself is quite nice. I did not count how many audience members it will hold, but it is small. There is no "bad seat" in the house, and the ceiling is shaped so that sound carries marvelously. A person on the back row of the audience could hear an articulate whisper from the stage.

Last night was an enjoyable evening. If I stay in Tallahassee long enough, I will certainly visit the Tallahassee Little Theater again. I highly recommend it. Upcoming productions include The Foreigner and Cabaret.

Until Next Time,

Nathan Marshburn

The Gey 5K

One of the most beloved professors at Florida State College of Law, Steven Gey, had the misfortune of being diagnosed with ALS, or Lou Gehrig's disease, over three years ago. I have never had a chance to meet Professor Gey, though from what students and professors who know him have said, I understand that he is a renowned scholar on constitutional law and an outstanding teacher as well.

For the third year now since his diagnosis, friends of Professor Gey have organized a 5K run to encourage him and to raise money to find a cure for Lou Gehrig's disease.

When someone is diagnosed with ALS, doctors estimate that he or she has three years to live. Professor Gey, fighter that he is, has outlasted the predictions. Amazingly, he continues to write. As a professor told us today, he has a new computer that can sense the movements in his thigh muscles, enabling him to type.

This morning, I participated in my second Gey 5K run. It started at the FAMU/FSU Department of Engineering in Innovation Park and looped around the National Magnetic Laboratory.

The top runner finished in somewhere under 18 minutes. Overall, I was pleased with my results. My time was 23:20, about 20 seconds faster than my time last year at this same race. Part of my improvement may have been the course. Although I could not tell any difference in the difficulty, other runners said this course was easier. Last year, we started and ended at the law school (in a different part of Tallahassee from Innovation Park). The first half of that run was almost all downhill, while the last half was almost all uphill.

Perhaps the main reason I did a little better, though, is that this year a friend did the 5K with me. She runs marathons, and set a faster pace than I would have attempted if I had been on my own.

I debated whether or not I should try trash talking to her before the race began. Ultimately, I decided to keep my mouth shut-- which was a good thing.

For about three quarters of the race, I kept up with her. We came to a hill toward the end. I made it to the top with her. But then a little wave of nausea hit me. Then a little wave of dizziness hit me and the spring in my legs disappeared. So I hoarsely whispered good bye to her back, and she was gone. She finished the race second among the females and earned some prize money. Luckily, I recovered enough to only be passed by two people in the home stretch.

It was fun to match my stamina against my friend in a race that supports a great cause and a great person. I hope Professor Gey continues his courageous fight, so that perhaps next year I can compete again- either against my own time or against my friend.

For a more detailed blog of the event, see the below link:

http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Ftroubleafoot.blogspot.com%2F2010%2F11%2Fgey-2010.html&h=d7591

Until Next Time,

Nathan Marshburn

Spanakopita, Ouzo and a Bouzouki

Yesterday, for the third time in my life, I attended a Greek food festival. My first time was at a Greek Orthodox church in Wilmington, North Carolina a few years ago. The other two have been here. Each fall, the Holy Mother of God Greek Orthodox Church in Tallahassee hosts the event. The crowds are enormous and the lines can be very long. It is worth the trip and the wait, though.

I also attended the festival in 2008 during my first year of law school, along with some of the new friends I made. Volunteers served most of the food from underneath tents set up outside the church, but the dessert pastries were inside the building. Along with a new friend, I stood in a line that wrapped around the church and then wove inside like a maze before we made it to the sweet stuff. After buying some cookies, my friend and I pushed open a door to exit the church. We almost knocked down an old man standing on the other side. In typical new 1L fashion, I began to recite to my friend why he would be subject to tort liability, and he in turn responded with the standard defenses.

That night in 2008, I ate Spanakopita, a Greek spinach pie, for the first time in my life. I remember how delicious it was. The dozens of dining tables under the tents were all occupied, so I sat down on a cinder block at the corner of a parking lot with my Spanakopita and a can of Pepsi. The weather was fantastic. I watched the crowd, looked up at the stars, tasted my food and drink, and noted that at that moment, I was very happy...

Yesterday, I went back to this same festival with many of my same friends from 2008. This time, we went at lunch because of the smaller crowds and the ability to get a table. Again, I had Spanakopita to eat. Again, it was delicious. My friends also convinced me to try a shot of Ouzo, a clear but fiery Greek liquor flavored with anise. I felt the drink go all the way down my esophagus and into my stomach. One shot was enough to make the guy sitting beside me feel the effects. I was okay after one drink, though I am sure another would have gone to my head a little.

We listened to a Greek band play traditional music. The string player was exceptionally good. During one song, he left the stage, leaped up on a table in front of us and began playing his guitar/banjo type instrument behind his head. The crowd applauded him with rhythmic clapping and shouts. A friend of mine who is also Greek explained that his instrument was called a bouzouki.

So, yesterday was a good day. I had a great meal and listened to my friends talk about things such as their comically bad haunted house tour in Monticello the night before. It was another happy moment from law school and Tallahassee.

Until Next Time,

Nathan Marshburn

The Smell of Palm Trees

Most of the palm trees in Tallahassee are probably planted here, and do not grow naturally. It seems that oaks covered in Spanish moss are the predominant native trees. This area of Florida is more like a rain forest or swamp as opposed to the open coastal areas where one expects to see palm trees. Still, the palm trees grow well here, and in August they produce clusters of orange fruit that eventually fall to the ground, one by one. The fruit is slightly smaller than a golf ball. At the center is a hard, brown seed about the size of a dime.

One of my first experiences in August 2008 as a new law school student was the scent of the palm tree fruit. When it first hit me, I was discovering what would become a usual stress relieving routine- jogging the two mile loop around Alumni Village apartments. Orange palm tree fruit has a dark, sweet smell. On my run around Alumni Village, I first thought that the smell was coming from a line of shrubbery. It was only a few days later when I picked up one of the fallen balls of fruit that I recognized it as the source.

This August, as what will hopefully be my last year of law school gets underway, the smell of the palm tree fruit is hitting me again when I go for my runs. I have come to identify that scent with late summer Tallahassee, Florida State University, and the beginning of the fall semester. It is a pleasant smell associated with pleasant memories.

Until Next Time,

Nathan Marshburn

The Flower Petals of Florida State

Classes for my third and final year of law school begin in two days. The Suwannee Room, the main dining hall on campus, is open again and I am eating almost all of my meals there. The walk from the law school to the dining hall is about 10 minutes, and it takes me down a section of Jefferson Street lined with a dozen or so sorority houses.

Each year at this time, at least while I have been here, girls trying to join these sororities line up outside the houses wearing cute sun dresses. They perform cheers and chants. Other girls (actual sorority members, I suppose) wearing uniform colored t-shirts guide them quite seriously from house to house to do who-knows-what activities inside.

Personally, I have never been inside a sorority house. These houses were illegal when I was an undergraduate student in North Carolina. The law said something about too many women living alone in one house as constituting a brothel. So, this late August ritual at Florida State is fascinating to me.

This evening, as I walked to dinner, Jefferson Street was empty. Then, almost simultaneously, the doors to the sorority houses opened and dozens and dozens of girls began quietly flowing out of the houses. The had on classy dresses of all colors. Most wore sandals and carried their high heeled shoes in one hand.

The girls must have been forbidden to speak, because not one made a sound. The sidewalks became so thick with these girls that I stepped onto the grass and the road to give them enough room.

It was an amazing sight. I thought of a cherry blossom tree or a Bradford pear in spring as the green leaves overtake the flowers on the branches. A breeze would blow the flower petals off the trees, and it was pretty to watch the petals float to the ground. This was the effect of all of these beautiful girls, floating out of the houses- flower petals floating down to the sidewalks.

A few of the girls smiled at me, as if they could read my mind. It was like something out of a dream, to be the lone guy in this ocean of moving, silent, beautiful women. Even now, as an older guy done with my undergraduate years, the whole spectacle was intoxicating.

It was one of the most beautiful things I have seen here at Florida State. I wonder if the law schools at Harvard or Yale have something that could compare?

Until Next Time,

Nathan Marshburn

A Thank You to the Armed Services

In an effort to save money for the remainder of the summer, I have come back to visit North Carolina and my parents until classes begin in the fall.

I spend my days at the Robeson Community College campus library, reading treatises on Florida tort law. Law school is not easy, but the actual practice of law promises to be even more difficult and unforgiving. This is quite the all-consuming world for me, and it takes most of my time and energy. Coming back to my parents' house, though, reminds me of how different the world is for many other people. My parents live very close to Fayetteville and Fort Bragg.

Fort Bragg, the world's largest army base, is home to the Green Berets and the famed 82nd Airborne Division. On a daily basis, planes and helicopters from the base fly over our house, and occasionally in the yard I can hear the low boom of artillery fire.

Just a short drive to the east is Camp Lejeune, the nation's largest Marine Corps base. I used to do work as a civilian on Camp Lejeune, and I remember the large oil paintings in the headquarters of the 2nd Military Expeditionary Force. The paintings depicted the exploits of that unit during the Pacific island-hopping campaign of World War Two.

Many veterans of WWII, Korea, Vietnam, the Gulf Wars, and Afghanistan remain in this area after their service is done. Local news outlets report on base activities and base casualties with more detail than the national media. It is sad to read in the paper about a new widow with a small child, or a soldier returning with severe brain damage, or a Marine missing in action in Afghanistan.

Honestly, these are things that I do not contemplate when I am in the middle of a semester in Tallahassee. To be even more honest, I probably will not dwell on it much after I graduate, either, when I am a lawyer out fighting for my clients. It is just too exhausting and depressing.

But I thought here would be a good time to say a simple "Thank You" to the veterans and the active members of the armed services. Because of their sacrifice and determination, I am able to drive from North Carolina to Florida in freedom, to study law at Florida State University, and to work at improving myself in our society. The options available to me in America are non-existent in most other countries of the world. The options are available here because our armed services have fought and continue to fight to preserve them. A blog entry "thank you" is nothing in the way of what our service members deserve, but it is what I can do.

So I say again, Thank You to our veterans and active military members who make our country the greatest on earth. I am appreciative of you and your bravery.

Until Next Time,

Nathan Marshburn

Time Travel is Painful

Today, I looked through the latest copy of Western Carolina, the magazine of my alma mater. After reading a couple of articles, I flipped to one of the last pages and scanned down the list of "Class Notes."

My heart hammered hard against the inside of my chest when I saw that one of my old schoolmates had died. I quickly went to my computer and googled his name to try and figure out what happened. Apparently, he was struck by a vehicle while out cycling.

Adam was a Resident Assistant (RA) at Reynolds dormitory when I enrolled as a new freshman back in 1995. That year probably seems like a long time ago to the students in law school with me now. But for me, I can call up the memories just like it was yesterday. 1995 might as well be 2007 in my mind. My body and brain do not feel 15 years older, and if I did not know how old I was, I would swear that I am 23 or younger.

I first met Adam when I walked into the lobby of Reynolds dormitory with my dad to move into my new room. He was one of the very first people I ever met at Western Carolina University. That day, he manned the check-in table with Lanny, the student who would be the RA of my specific hallway. Adam was always very friendly to me in his quiet way. He truly was one of the nicest people I have ever met.

I had not thought about Adam in a few years, but in seeing his name in black and white print in the magazine, in looking at his smiling photo posted on the Internet obituary, the memories came rushing back like an avalanche.

The feelings and emotions went beyond memories and transported me back to the fall semester 1995...

I am standing on the cool green grass of the hill in front of Reynolds dormitory, wearing shorts, a t-shirt, and tennis shoes. The weather is warm and fantastic as the sun sets. Adam and I toss a frisbee back and forth. Two girls come out of the dorm and stop to watch us. I throw the frisbee harder. I run and jump when I catch it, stealing obvious glances at the girls to see if they are impressed. I've seen them both before. One in particular is stunning to me, and I get up the guts to ask what her name is.

"Alexis," she says.

"Alexis. That is a very pretty name," I reply. "I do not know anyone else with that name."

I may be saying something else to her, though I'm not sure what. Her aura is overwhelming, and I sort of lose my bearings. Eventually she gives me a sort of puzzled smile and walks off down the hill.

The other girl, a pretty redhead with milky white skin stays to watch us. I know her, or rather I know her boyfriend. He is a blond haired exchange student from France. I have been told that he is literally a prince, a descendant of a royal family.

But the redhead is interested in us. More precisely, she is interested in Adam. She walks up to him, and they begin talking quietly together. Adam casually continues tossing the frisbee to me, now paying more attention to her than to our game. Before long, he tells me that he's had enough for the day. As sunset turns to dusk, Adam and the redhead walk back inside Reynolds together. I watch them as they slowly go up the steps to the doors. They walk very close to each other...

Another memory...

Adam and I walk down the hallway in Reynolds dormitory toward his room. He is going to let me borrow a book or something- I can't remember what exactly. He opens his door, and I am surprised at how barren his room is. He basically only has a bed and some chester drawers.

This is the guy who tempts the beautiful redhead away from the prince? The prince has money and wears very nice clothes. He must have lots of toys. But here is Adam, with his soft-spoken personality, his modest dorm room, his unpretentious life, and the redhead is interested in him.

I stand with Adam (there is no furniture to sit) and talk with him for a while. He tells me that he wants to teach biology when he graduates...

I think Adam moved off campus after the 1995-96 school year, and I had no more contact with him.

1995 was a formative and very happy year for me, but learning of Adam's death brought back the memories too strongly. I was there. I could smell the fresh coat of paint that August in Reynolds dormitory, I could see Alexis, her smooth silky skin and greenish-grey eyes standing right in front of me, her heart breaking sweetness, smiling so happily. I could feel how young my mind was, not knowing how to react to Alexis or the redhead. I could feel my mind trying to take in this entirely new and magical world in Cullowhee, North Carolina.

It was too much. My chest began to ache with a serious pain.

Adam is gone, now. Part of 1995 is gone, now. Part of that fantastic world is gone, now.

And I do not know how to handle it.

I do not know what happens when you die. I do not know what to do when 1995 is suddenly 15 years ago and everything is changing.

Is that time- are those moments- really gone forever? Is Adam really gone forever?

This existence is so incredibly beautiful and so incredibly horrifying at the same time.

I miss Adam, my old RA.

Cloud Hopping and Other Encounters with Nature in Tallahassee

Now that the Summer for Undergrads program has ended and I have some free time, I thought I would write about something different.

A couple of weeks ago, I walked out of my apartment in Alumni Village and spotted a partial rainbow on the eastern horizon. Other people were also standing outside gazing at it. One young toddler of Asian descent was so excited that he did not know what to do with himself. He ran around a swing set shouting "Rainbow! Rainbow!"

A slightly older girl ran up to him, and they both dashed across the lawn as he continued to shout, looking back over his shoulder at it.

I can remember the first time I saw a rainbow. It was in Wilmington, NC and I was three or four years old. I was in the backyard of our apartment and our neighbors were also outside playing in a plastic kiddie pool. The rainbow was not fully formed, but I was still fascinated at how the colors stood out distinctly in the blue sky.

I have only seen a perfect, completely formed rainbow once in my life. That was in Rochester, New York in June 2004. It appeared outside my room in the Strathallan Hotel, and I stepped out onto my balcony to watch it over downtown Rochester. That rainbow was one of the most beautiful sights I have seen in nature, and even the local news anchors mentioned it that evening on their 6pm broadcast...

After the Tallahassee rainbow disappeared, I went for a bike ride through Innovation Park. The cloud patterns that caused the rainbow moved in from the western horizon, and I found myself getting soaked with rain. Spying a large oak tree, I ducked under its branches and waited. In a minute, the rain stopped.

The clouds were unique. I could see patches of darkening blue sky where it was not raining, but then also there were grey clouds and lightening where I saw rain pouring.

I decided to play a game of cloud hopping. I took off on my bike for the engineering building, trying to make it there before the next rain cloud passed over my head. The first few drops began to hit my back just as I zipped into a covered entrance of the building. The rain was warm, so it did not bother me much. But I enjoyed playing this game.

The rain stopped again, and I rode my bike out from the engineering building, past the golf course and the small reservoir in the park. Some Canada geese were already flying in to rest for the night.

A colder, steadier downpour caught me before I could get to the next building and its covered entrance. The rain drops beat loudly on the thin plastic awning. But again, it did not last long.

I cloud hopped for about an hour, watching parts of the evening sky light up with electricity. Eventually, the clouds moved off and the rain stopped for good. I coasted back to my apartment on the downhill slopes from Innovation Park to Alumni Village.

...

A few days later, the natural surroundings of Tallahassee gave me another interesting experience.

While on one of my usual night time runs, I felt a tickle on the back of my neck which I thought to be a drop of sweat. When I tried to wipe it away, though, I suddenly discovered that I had palmed some sort of creature about the size of a golf ball.

In the span of half a second, I grabbed it from the back of my neck and tossed it to the ground. I heard its large exoskeleton clatter across the asphalt, but I did not stop my run to see what the thing looked like.

In the half second it was in my hand, I felt a pinch on my palm. I looked at my hand as I continued running, and through the glow of the street lamps I could see a pink mark on my palm where it had bitten or pinched me. Luckily, it did not break the skin and the mark faded quickly.

With this memory fresh in my mind, the next night I was doing laundry when I came back to my apartment to find a massive and fierce looking insect mounted on my door frame about chest high. This is what it looked like.

I had no idea what this creature was, but its face had what looked like fangs, and it appeared to be a predator of some intelligence.

I did not want to get attacked by this thing. For a few moments, I debated what I should do. Then I said to it, " Bug, I don't want any trouble, but you have parked yourself right at the entrance to my home. I have to go in- you understand?"

Holding my empty laundry basket as a shield, I carefully keyed into my apartment and slowly opened the door. The creature did not move, and I shut the door.

After half an hour, it was time for me to go back to the laundry facility to switch my clothes from the washers to the dryers. I hoped the thing would be gone when I opened the door.

I opened the door quickly, and then took a step back. The insect was still there, only now it was raised up and larger. I thought that perhaps I had startled it when I opened the door, and in response it had flared to attack position. This is what it looked like. The photos are pretty close to actual size.

Again, using my laundry basket as a shield, I stepped outside, shut the door, and took a closer look at the insect. It was then that I realized it was molting- breaking through its old shell.

Now is my chance to kill it, I thought.

But I do not enjoy squashing live things, and I only do it when I really have to. I decided to give this fierce but cool looking insect more time. Maybe when I came back from the laundry facility it would have finished molting and be gone.

Unfortunately, it was still there when I came back. Mounted on the back of its old shell, I now saw that the insect had wings. It moved slightly when I came close.

I managed to slip past it again into my apartment. After another half hour wait while my clothes dried, I opened the door again, hoping the bug had flown away.

But it was still there, and it flexed its wings when I opened the door.

Okay, that's it, I thought. This thing has wings and it is responding to my movements. It can fly up and sting me in the face if it wants to.

Using the door for protection, I took a broom and poked at it to get it off my door frame. I felt a tinge of sympathy when it tried to use its old shell for protection. It was not able to fly away, yet. But I poked it again and knocked it off the door frame, along with the shell. I heard it hit the ground.

Well, that's that, I thought, and I finished my laundry. The next day, I did some research at the library and discovered that the insect was actually a harmless cicada.

I felt badly that I had not allowed it to finish molting. Eventually it would have developed into something like this.

But given my experience from my run, I was not taking chances.

It was just bad luck for the cicada. I learned from this, though, and I now know what a molting cicada looks like.

The first image of the cicada is from http://www.earthlife.net/insects/images/hemipter/cicada3.JPG

The last three images in this blog entry come from http://www.insectidentification.org/process-of-molting.asp

Until Next Time,

Nathan Marshburn

Baseball to Relax the Mind

Despite the end of the semester, I continue to stay just as busy. Next week will see me begin another turn as a mentor with the Summer for Undergraduates Program. To my surprise, I was asked to write blog entries here about the program as part of my job duties.

Lee Corso, a former great of the gridiron at Florida State, said not too long ago, "Life is about change and your ability to adapt to it."

While it is always exciting to meet new people and come into new environments, the change can be a little stressful as well. The house cats at my friends' and family's homes do not always react so well to my visits. The cats sometimes leave little "items" on my bed or on my suitcase to let me know that my new presence in their space is upsetting to them.

The 60 students we have coming in for the Summer for Undergraduates Program will also be wondering about where they have arrived, the people they will meet, and what they will be doing. I can assure them that we will have a lot of fun. If they are anything like the group from last summer, they will make fast friends and learn a lot about themselves and law school. It will a great experience for them, something they will remember for a long time. . .

I also have ways of trying to relax my mind during times of change. In my first year of law school, I was completely focused on classes and took little notice of the outside world. This year, however, I started following the Florida State Seminoles baseball team. I have been surprised at how much I enjoy their games.

As a kid, I was an avid fan of the major leagues. I also played baseball from the time I was a toddler up until high school, when the ball began moving too fast for me to compete.

But the players' strike in the 1990s, the steroid use, and the obscene salaries the players received to play this little game with a round bat and a round ball cooled my enthusiasm for the major leagues as an adult.

The rediscovery of baseball in the college ranks, though, has been like a breath of fresh air to me. I had forgotten how fun a game it is, with the hitting and the fielding, the pop of the leather glove as a ball comes sizzling into the pocket, the squeeze play, the double play, the perfect throw from the outfielder to nail a runner trying to reach home.

I understand baseball more than any other sport, and as such I enjoy watching the games within the game: The interplay between the shortstop and the second baseman to see who will cover the bag if the runner on first tries to steal; how tight the infielders play when there is a runner on third; how aggressive a base runner is against the pitcher's pick off move; whether the batter will swing away on a 3-0 count; all the options a manager has when there is a runner on first and third with one out. The list goes on and on.

Yesterday, I went to see Florida State play North Carolina State, and I will go to watch the same two teams play again tonight.

My uncle is also an avid baseball fan. He was a much better athlete than me growing up, though, and coincidentally played baseball for North Carolina State when he was in college. He will travel to Omaha in June to watch the College World Series.

My uncle sent me an email message earlier this semester, encouraging me to watch as many 'Noles games as I could, as baseball "relaxes your mind."

I had never quite thought of baseball in this way, but he is right. The rhythm of baseball is unlike any other sport. There is a quiet method to playing baseball. Because I understand the game well enough, the rhythm and method lends itself to a predictability and analysis that can be a comforting distraction to the other stresses of life. Watching a baseball game unfold is like watching all the pieces of a puzzle come together in a satisfying way. And you are outside in the warm summer air with all the familiar sounds of the game, the colors of the uniforms and the green grass of the field.

I understand my uncle when he says baseball relaxes your mind. It does provide a pleasant distraction for me. A baseball game would relax me even more, though, if I could stop myself from scanning the crowd for pretty women sitting by themselves. That is one distraction that baseball has yet to overcome in my mind.

Until Next Time,

Nathan Marshburn

Hope, Motivation and a Word About Patrick Swayze

As I've said in past entries, the decision to attend law school is turning out to be the best choice of my professional life. I think I am setting myself up for a happier life than if I did not make that choice.

Though some people would disagree, to me law school itself is much easier than any job I've ever held. Learning new things in class from highly intelligent professors and being around young, energetic and smart fellow students will never become mundane for me.

Still, the longer I stay in school and the more the memories of bad jobs I've held fades, it sometimes is difficult to motivate myself to get up and study.

Over the years I've taught myself little tricks to get going when my mood is telling me otherwise. Many of these tricks I've learned by listening to successful people talk about how they go through life.

One such inspiration came recently. Patrick Swayze was a starring actor in probably my favorite romantic movie, Ghost. I once dated a girl whose favorite movie was Dirty Dancing. She could quote the movie verbatim, including Swayze's famous line, "Nobody puts Baby in a corner." Swayze died in September of this year from pancreatic cancer.

I remember when the media announced that he had contracted the disease. Pancreatic cancer is one of the most difficult cancers to treat, and people usually die within months of diagnosis. It is the same disease that took Professor Randy Pausch, whose inspirational "Last Lecture" is definitely worth viewing at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ji5_MqicxSo.

Patrick Swayze also gave a fascinating last interview of sorts with Barbara Walters. You can watch this on YouTube as well. The entire interview is useful, but one phrase in particular struck me. Swayze expressed frustration that the tabloids were predicting when his death would occur, saying things like he only had five weeks to live. "You know," he said, "hope is a very very fragile thing in anyone's life." It was tough on both him and his family to constantly hear when he was going to die.

As I get older, I appreciate ever more just how fragile hope is in this world. At one time in my life, I was game to argue about religion and all sorts of other beliefs with anyone, anywhere. Now, though, I see that if a belief gives people hope, and it does not cause harm to others, then I shouldn't try to tear it down. Life is difficult enough for us all without me trying to stir up angst and debate over things that really might not matter so much in the end.

Even more, now that I am in law school, I see an opportunity to actually manufacture hope for people. Lawyers are powerful figures in our society. As I learned from my experience this summer with Parks & Crump, bad things had happened to our clients, and we were often the only bright ray of hope they had in their lives.

So, I try to think of my future clients when I'm lacking in motivation to study. I need to be as good a lawyer as possible. I need to learn the subjects as well as I can, because people will come to me with their problems, and I will hold important parts of their lives in my hands. I need to be prepared for the fight so that I can say, win or lose, I did my best for them. I did my best to bring hope home for them, and that very often I succeeded.

My own personal hope is do this for my clients while providing comfort and security to my own family. That is why I get out of bed in the morning and go to the law school.

Off to study.

Universal Health Care Now,

Nathan Marshburn

Running at 1am

As I wrote in my previous entry, the Mock Trial Team Intramural Competition took up much of my time in the latter half of September. I frequently did not get home from the law school until after midnight. My class studies ground to a halt for about a week and a half.

Going for runs or jogs, however, is an indispensable part of my routine. If I go two or three days without running, I begin to feel like junk. I run two or three miles, five or six days a week. It is invigorating and keeps me feeling healthy.

Toward the end of September, it had been a couple of days since I had been on a run. I got back from the library after Mock Trial practice at midnight, and I needed to exercise. So I went for a two and half mile run around my apartment complex at about 1 am.

As I ran past a patch of woods, out of the corner of my eye I saw something rather large move. I darted to the opposite side of the road and turned to see an owl with wings spread fly up from the ground and land on a limb.

I'm not sure what kind of owl it was. Its underside was white, it had solid black eyes and stood about eight inches to ten inches tall.

I stopped my run and took a few steps closer to study this bird. It's only been a handful of times in my whole life that I've seen an owl in person. The owl did not seem frightened of me at all as I came closer. It turned its head at tremendous angles, as if looking for more prey on the ground. As I continued to stare at it, though, it swiveled its head to lock eyes with me. We stared at each other, unflinching for about 15 seconds before I glanced down and then back at the owl. But it quit the staring contest when I broke first. I left it in peace and continued my run.

Late at night, I can hear the owls often. This was the fourth owl I've spotted since moving to Florida. The other three, I saw all at the same time during a Tallahassee evening, as I noted in my blog entry for June 6th of this year.

I suppose this entry doesn't have much to do with law school, other than to note that law school extracurricular activities may force you to do your regular activities at odd times. In my case, it allowed me to see a unique sight.

Universal Health Care Now,

Nathan Marshburn

P.S. . . After looking up some information, most likely it was a Barred Owl. The National Audubon Society description of the Barred Owl's call matches exactly what I hear at night. You can see and hear the Barred Owl at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fppKGJD3Y6c&feature=related

San Francisco

I recently returned from a four day trip to San Francisco with the firm. The firm sent some of us to the American Association for Justice Convention. I attended a number of interesting seminars which expanded my knowledge on operating a firm and marketing myself.

The flight to the west coast was spectacular. I had a window seat at 36,000 feet, and our flight plan took us up the southern coast of California. A solid layer of white clouds which resembled cotton candy covered the Pacific Ocean far below for as far as the eye could see. The cloud cover did not break until just before the shoreline. Much of the shoreline was mountainous. One partner of the firm told me to never take a cruise in the Pacific Ocean because clouds like that will obscure the view for most of the trip.

As we closed in on San Francisco and flew lower in altitude, we passed directly over Stanford University. I could tell which school it was by the markings on the athletic fields. I also noted the Bay Bridge, which I first saw on television in 1989 during the World Series earthquake. San Francisco's airport is similar to New York City's LaGuardia in that the runway goes to the edge of the water. As the plane got lower and lower, we were still over water until the last moments when the runway appeared and we touched down.

My first morning there, I went on a 5k run sponsored by one of the city's law firms. The last part of the race was almost all uphill, and it was the first time in years that I had to start walking during a 5k and also the first time in years that I felt a little nauseous during the run. The hills in San Francisco are seriously steep, and the streets do not wind to accommodate the grade. I still managed to finish the race in a sprint, though.

Exploring San Francisco was great as well. The city is surprisingly cold. Highs were only in the 60s, and it seemed colder due to the wind coming in off the ocean or the bay. Fog is common. As it got dark, it would often seem to be raining as I looked at the light from the street lamps. I felt no water drops, though. A taxi driver told me that the warmest weather is usually in September and October where temperatures can go into the 80s. But always after 5pm, he said, the weather drops into the 50s. It is always cold at night in San Francisco. If you go just a few miles inland, the temperature range jumps dramatically, he said.

I took some time to walk through Chinatown and to see Lombard street, the most crooked street in the world. I also biked across the Golden Gate Bridge, which provided a spectacular view of the bay and Alcatraz island. Riding my bike along the Fisherman's Wharf area, I saw about 40 or 50 California Sea Lions resting or arguing with each other on the piers.

One of the partners of the firm treated us to some awesome meals. The Crustacean is a seafood restaurant owned by a Vietnamese family. The restaurant has a special kitchen apart from the main kitchen where only family members are allowed. In this special kitchen, the family members cook some of their famous dishes (the recipes to which are jealously guarded). I also enjoyed some crab cakes at Houston's, and a delicious Chocolate Sunday at Ghiradelli's. Both establishments are on the San Francisco Bay.

So, it was a fun time and I am appreciative of the experience. Still, I feel that my stories of San Francisco are only the run-of-the-mill experiences that any tourist could relate. San Francisco is different from New Orleans (another city the firm visited this summer). In New Orleans, in Las Vegas, in Philadelphia, in Miami, I felt like I could walk down the street and suddenly find myself in a unique adventure. I did not feel this with San Francisco. To really enjoy San Francisco and understand its character, I think one probably needs to have a lot of money and be connected with the appropriate social circles. Despite its liberal reputation, the city felt conservative and private. The clubs, the people, and the beautiful hilly streets all seemed quite tame. The most interesting characters of this city are sealed away from curious visitors like me in ornate Victorian homes. They eat their meals apart from me in those homes or in fine dining restaurants out of reach to me at this point in my life.

But perhaps one day I will come back under different circumstances.

Universal Health Care Now,

Nathan Marshburn

New Orleans

I just got back from my first ever visit to New Orleans.

For the Fourth of July weekend, the firm hosted a cookout in that city as part of the Essence Music Festival celebration.

Most of the staff of the firm stayed in a nice house on Tchoupitoulas Street, about a five or ten minute drive from Bourbon Street. Tchoupitoulas Street borders the Mississippi River, and I could see the ships at the loading docks and the huge cranes around them.

One of the places that I visited was the 9th Ward- the hardest hit area by Katrina, though it was evident that the whole city was hard hit by that storm. The 9th Ward felt eerie. As we drove through, I could imagine what it must have been like before Katrina. There were lots of nice houses, the weather felt great, and I'm sure people spent a lot of time outside socializing with each other.

Now, most of the houses are abandoned. Many appear not to have been touched since the storm, as litter and debris remains strewn across their yards. The most eerie aspect was seeing the dates spray painted on the houses. After Katrina, crews went through checking the homes for bodies. When they checked a house, they marked it with an X and the date. About one in three or four houses still has that mark. I saw "9/13 X," "9/25 X," "10/1 X", etc. haphazardly spray painted in orange on the walls.

I also spent quite a bit of time on Bourbon Street. On the morning of July 5th, at about 2:30 am, I was walking down Bourbon Street with thousands of others. Just ahead of me, I heard the "Pop! Pop! Pop!" of gun fire. It was a unique sensation and sight to see hundreds of people suddenly turn toward me and begin running. My initial fear was not of being shot, but of being trampled. I darted sideways and leaped up on a windowsill of one of the clubs. Leaning back against the glass as far as I could, I watched as hundreds of people ran past me. It also interested me to see a police officer across the street just casually watching all of this from the entrance to a restaurant. Eventually, people stopped running. I peaked around the corner of the window and hopped down. Police officers on horseback slowly made their way up the street toward the site of the shooting. I headed in the other direction and caught a cab back to the house.

I like New Orleans. It is a city that I want to visit again. After spending three days and nights there (without much sleep), my impression is that this is a city with soul, a city whose main inhabitants are unapologetically poor, but who know how to have fun and enjoy life. They sit in the streets and on their porches as the sun goes down, laughing and talking. Many of the buildings here looked old and dilapidated, but not run down. They teem with life.

But Katrina continues to have this city reeling. The French Quarter and Bourbon Street will stay a thriving force due to tourism, the incredible architecture, restaurants, hotels, clubs, and its reputation as a place to have fun. And New Orleans will continue to exist because of its location as a port city for the Mississippi River and the Gulf of Mexico. But driving along the levy wall in the 9th Ward, I felt that this place is not safe. The 9th Ward and the city remain a "soup bowl" below sea level, just waiting for another strong storm to come in a wipe it out again.

As one cab driver told me, "Everyone here now lives off of Uncle FEMA." Indeed, I saw the FEMA trailers clustered together in the 9th Ward. Another cab driver, a native to New Orleans, had an interesting perspective on Katrina and New Orleans. "When they blew the levies," he said, "they made it so the French Quarter stayed dry and the poor people got flooded."

I hope New Orleans can recover. I would have loved to see the city before Katrina. Bringing it all back is a problem, though. Restoring New Orleans is taking and will take massive amounts of money. And it is all so fragile. . . At least the river, the gulf, and Lake Pontchartrain were all beautiful and calm during my days there.

Universal Health Care Now,

Nathan Marshburn

Tallahassee Sunsets

As I get older, I've learned that one of the secrets to happiness, or at least to my own personal happiness, is to stay busy.

Now that school is out for the summer, I'm not studying and working all the time. That will change on June 15th, when I begin working for a wrongful death firm. But until then, I find that most of my evenings are free.

About five times during this past week, I had the chance to go for an early evening run. After I finished the jogs, I decided to stay busy by hopping on my bike and riding for an hour or so until the sun set.

I go for bike rides in Innovation Park. The Park contains various buildings dedicated to industrial and technological pursuits, such as the National High Magnetic Field Laboratory and the FSU/FAMU School of Engineering. Innovation Park is where I ride my bike because there are many open spaces of woods or fields (the FSU golf course flanks one side of the park). Each day, I stopped somewhere to watch the fabulous pinks, purples, oranges and yellows that colored the clouds as the sun went down.

The other things in nature that I come across on my bike rides are also fascinating. One day I saw a red fox lying in the grass, watching me with curiosity. It kept sitting up and laying back down, trying to decide if it should run away. Another day, I saw a fox (perhaps the same one) trot rapidly away from me as I rounded a curve and spotted her. The fox carried one of her pups in her mouth as she slinked away into the woods.

Twice, a red shouldered hawk has flown over me as I rode. The first time, the hawk had a small snake in its talons. The second time, it looked like it had a mouse.

I also startled a Great Blue Heron standing in a creek. It flapped its large wings and took off deeper into the woods.

As the day ends and the sky turns from bright blue to darker shades and then black, bats come out. They curve toward me and then away from me very fast, relying on their built-in sonar. Thousands of frogs start chirping away right as the sun disappears, too.

When the sun goes down, I decide to head back to my apartment. The last half mile is all down hill and I don't have to pedal. I can get up some nice speed, and the evening air hitting my face and hair is one of the best sensations on earth. It brings back memories of summer rides when I was a boy. Freedom.

One night as I finished a run, I heard what sounded like a insane human, laughing at me from up in a tree. I quickly deduced that it was an owl... The owls are great, here, too. I can hear them often at night when I'm lying in bed... Shortly after the laughing stopped, out of the corner of my eye I caught three large owls, one right behind the other like fighter planes in tight formation, swooping across the parking lot and then disappearing into darkness. The only noise they made was the slightest rustling of wind- a noise that I would not have noticed had I not turned my head to look right at them. I'm not sure what kind of owls they were, but their undersides were white.

If the weather is good, I'll go for another bike ride today. It is a great way to spend an hour around sunset in Tallahassee.

Universal Health Care Now,

Nathan Marshburn

The Talent Here

About a week ago, I watched an interview on C-Span between Brian Lamb and Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia. Lamb, the founder of C-Span, is perhaps the best interviewer I have ever seen on television. Scalia appeared on "Q&A," a C-Span series. It was a fascinating exchange. Here is the link to the episode: http://www.q-and-a.org/search.aspx?For=scalia&x=9&y=14

Scalia was on the show to discuss his book, Making Your Case: The Art of Persuading Judges.

Lamb and Scalia talked about many things, but one of the topics I remember best is Scalia's note of the tremendous amount of talent coming into the profession of law. It is an "excessive proportion" of the talent out there. In his opinion, too many of the best and brightest are making the law their career when they might better serve society in some other capacity.

Scalia said that such a fact was perhaps a sad commentary on how complex the legal system has become in this country. It also showed, he said, that it is worth paying a lot of money to hire the best and brightest minds for legal disputes.

After one semester of law school, I recognize some of what Scalia is talking about. I see with more clarity than in any other academic system just where I'm beginning to stack up in relation to my colleagues and professors.

I won't make sweeping judgements about my potential after only one semester. Law school and a legal career is a marathon, not a one semester sprint. A joke someone told me earlier this year remains prominent in my mind, however: "Students who get As in law school become the professors. Students who get Bs become the judges, and the students who make Cs become the lawyers who make all the money."

I am beginning to sense the enormous complexity of the law, and I see how it can constantly change so that my learning should never stop, even after I earn a Juris Doctor. Being sharp enough to grasp a concept the first time it is presented to you is an enormous advantage, as you simply do not have enough time to repeatedly study it before something new is thrown at you that builds on the previous concept.

Earlier this semester, I attended a luncheon with FSU Law alumni Daryl Parks and Sean Desmond. They both have their own practices in Tallahassee. Both of them emphasized the need for a new lawyer to pick an area of the law and become an expert in it, rather than trying to survive as a Jack of all trades.

Until Next Time,

Nathan Marshburn

A Wise Decision

Five years ago I was an aspiring screenwriter.

I gave it a good effort and wrote four screenplays. I entered contests and sent off hundreds of letters trying to acquire an agent or manager. While I have no regrets about those ambitions, real world experiences in Las Vegas and Washington, DC made me realize that I would probably spend years not making much money while I expended most of my effort on writing.

I faced the truth that, given the choice between being a starving artist and becoming successful in another field, I would gladly choose the latter.

Writing screenplays or other types of fiction is something that I could pick up again at a moment's notice. I have half a dozen stories circulating in my head right now. Unfortunately, getting people to pay money to hear or see my stories proved too difficult. I saw myself becoming trapped in a miserable situation in Washington, and I now consider it a great decision to stop writing and focus all my efforts on my legal training.

After one semester of law school, I think there is a great world of opportunity, adventures, and learning ahead. It should be a happier life, and I will do my best not to screw it up. It is great to live in a country that affords me the opportunity to remake myself. That would probably not be an option if I had been born most other places in the world.

Until Next Time,

Nathan Marshburn