My friend Suzanne Heagy competed in Trivia Night in her new town last night. Her group won second place.  She used to play trivia in her old town. I was jealous (in a good way) that she left our group Zoom to get there on time.

Trivia is incredibly exciting for me. When I was turning 50, my not-yet-husband was planning a big party at an expensive venue in our town. I told him I would much rather play trivia at our local Irish pub. 

I didn’t realize that people who play trivia are almost professional at it. I thought people who played trivia are doing it just for the fun of it.  But no.  They have an agenda. (We didn’t do so well, alas.)

It’s similar to my thoughts on people applying to law school. I assumed they just took the LSAT.  (Big jump back here. Welcome to my brain and my life.)  

In my last semester of college in the fall of 2001, my then-husband (different guy; that was a long time ago) was out of town. He was away for his two weeks of annual training in the Navy Reserves. After September 11, 2001, when I could no longer reach him, our washing machine and dishwasher stopped working.  He was my appliance repairman and our four children’s father, and I couldn’t reach him.  There wasn’t much he could do from afar. In normal times, he might at least provide moral support. But that wasn’t possible with all communication cut off.  I needed that little bit. I counted on that little bit.

I didn’t get it.

I was in college full time. I was parenting four children on my own. I was trying to keep our home afloat. Yet, days after 9/11, I took my scheduled LSAT.  Despite the turmoil I’d been through, I felt ready as ready I could be.

I was surprised to hear the chatter from my fellow test takers that they had “prepped.” (What did that mean? That they knew how to keep awake by having mints, which were “allowed?”) Then I realized, while listening further before the test began, that they paid to study the LSAT. They had also learned LSAT test techniques. They were serious. 

I got into the highest-rated law school in the state anyway.

I scored well, but not well enough to get a scholarship. (I was sore about that for so many reasons, including that I was the first in my family to go to college, and I graduated with honors.)

I want to be upfront with you: I’m just taking this opportunity to crow. I am not intending to craft an excellent essay. I do know the difference between crafting an essay and crowing. (I graduated with honors.)

Imagine, just for argument’s sake, that Jeff Bezos brings together a distinguished group of people at a mythological Campfire every year.  Say for the sake of argument that I have attended.  Say for the sake of my crowing that the last time I was there, I won the Jeopardy! game, playing against a bevy of distinguished people, and I was the one who took home the trophy.

I still want to be involved in a trivia game whenever the opportunity arises. I would love to be on my friend Suzanne’s team (in trivia or in anything, anytime, anywhere).

I still believe that just showing up and speaking up is the best thing ever.  That’s what I did for the LSAT. That’s what I did for Campfire. This and my license to practice law (though I also didn’t formally study for the bar exam) are what I have to show for it.