There were many things my contracts professor said throughout this semester, some of them I retained, and some, of course, went over my head like flaminyon at a hamburger festival. But there's one thing that I'll always try to recall during dog days, realizations of falsities and those cold, down in the New Jersey toxic garbage dump heart breakers.
He stood at the lectern, talking about the breaching party to some contract, both hands raised and in an intonation reminiscent of the black southern Baptist minister his father is, he said, "Just another shattered dream." His hands came down to grab both sides of the lectern. Shaking his head now and looking down, this man who graduated from Harvard Law and Columbia School of Journalism put on a very disappointed face. "Just another shattered dream," he whispered.
He then stood upright and started laughing. "What happened here, class?"
So what a mantra for life? "Just another shattered dream." They break like icicles smashing on a store-front sidewalk, happening all the time.
Smile, damnit!
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