By DON KEENAN
There are many reasons why I love my beach house, but some of them you may not know, even if you have visited my beach house for workshops with my referring attorneys or for training sessions for the faculty of the Keenan Ball College.
Sixty miles to the west of me is the famous home of the Blue Angels jet fighter squad, nestled in a joint Navy and Air Force military base.
During some of our sessions, we have had to stop because those glorious Blue Angels flying close to the water make talking impossible. Then, 25 miles east of me is the home of the Navy Seal training facility. I love the area because it has deep roots in military pride, with a lot of military retirees living in the area.
As I was driving out for breakfast recently, I learned the tragic news that a Blackhawk helicopter went down, killing 11 on board—7 of whom were Marine Corp infantrymen who had come over from Camp Lejeune, NC for training missions.
It’s moments like that that make you so thankful for the life we have and give you a reverence for those who stand ready to give their life to protect us.
Against the backdrop of this tragedy, I learned of a more personal tragedy in the death of one of our Reptile© family members from Wyoming, Tony Vehar. Tony was a stalwart Reptile©, having attended five seminars, and many Reptile© lawyers from around the country got to know him.
Any death is tragic, but Tony’s was particularly sad because he took his own life. I watched over a couple days the painful reflections of his friends on the Wyoming listserv, all recounting his friendship and the pain of his loss.
I have written several times on this blog about the tremendous price we pay as trial lawyers—the burdens we carry, and the deep loneliness and despair that many of our brothers and sisters carry. Tony recently lost a hard-fought medical malpractice case and no one will know if that contributed to his despair.
The professionals say that suicide only comes when a person is convinced that they are alone and that they have nothing more to lose.
I feel in part responsible for Tony’s death because, while I have pleaded and begged for us to reach out to one another in comfort that obviously didn’t happen with Tony.
So, if Tony’s death has any meaning, it should be the biggest wake-up call that I can think of to make us realize that we all should do more.
There’s a lot of things that separate us from the Black Hats—one being that we truly care about one another. We champion one another’s successes and we share in each other’s losses.
Recently at one of our intense long-hour faculty training sessions, one of our faculty members had just concluded a case that did not turn out the way our sister wanted. The best way I found to handle grief is to talk about it—put it on the table—which she did.
At the end of her angst and overview of this disappointing loss, each and every member of that training session rose out of their seats to give her a standing ovation and to say collectively and individually that they were proud of her.
The most comforting gesture that any of us can make is to reach out and simply be there for the person who is suffering.
We’ve got to do a better job. We have to be more vigorous and, most of all, we have to be vigilant and reach out at the slightest indication for need.
You know from the Reptile© seminars that I always ask everybody to get up, look around, and go over to somebody they don’t know, then introduce their self and use the rest of the seminar time to get to know a stranger so they can leave as friends. So, I challenge each and every person who is reading this to reach out to someone, call them on the phone, go to lunch or dinner with them, or just go by their office and have a cup of coffee with them. That human contact is better than a wheelbarrow full of medication and a platoon full of counselors.
Never underestimate your power to comfort. Please take some time this week and reach out.