Here We Are by Aarti Namdev Shahani

Author:Aarti Namdev Shahani
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Celadon Books

* * *

I pulled into the driveway of Judge Blumenfeld. The man to whom I wrote as a child, whose chambers I visited as an adult, was now retired. He’d told me to keep in touch. I wanted to see if I was finally ready to talk to him, real talk.

“You made it!” the judge shouted from his doorstep. He was in blue jeans and a polo shirt.

“You look so casual. Where are your robes?” I like to tease my sources before an interview, loosen them (and me) up.

Blumenfeld lived in the nice part of Queens—not far from where I grew up, where many of my teachers in elementary school lived, the part with houses and front lawns. His entryway led to a living room with a big white carpet. It was sexy—not what I would’ve expected from a retiree.

“Should I take my shoes off?” I asked.

“No need.”

His wife came up to me. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you.”

Finally? I’d become a topic of discussion at the Blumenfeld dinner table. His daughter would be arriving soon, to observe our interview. Although tragic health problems had disrupted her career, she had gone to journalism school and was an NPR listener. She wanted to say hello.

We passed a hallway covered in pictures of his granddaughter. The doorframe had pencil marks—taking tally as she grew taller.

“Some Thursdays I’d take her with me to court,” the judge said. He wanted her to see what the system was like—a crash course in human folly and suffering. “You’re never too young to learn.” Public urination cases were her favorite. “She tells me, ‘Pop-pop, you can go to jail for peeing?’”

We sat in his den. Mrs. Blumenfeld walked in to offer me tea or wine. I wanted a drink so badly but didn’t want to seem like a lush.

“What are you having?” I asked the judge.

“I don’t drink wine,” he said. “But please go ahead.”

No need to tell me twice.

His wife came back with a glass of Pinot Noir just as their daughter arrived. The den was starting to feel a little crowded, like a talk show set, not a quiet corner for a quick interview.

Blumenfeld seemed delighted. He was chatty. Without any prompting, he sat back in his armchair and shared his love story.

“I ended up getting a car that was unsafe at any speed,” he began. It was a 1966 Chevy Corvair. None of his friends had cars. “So I became very popular for double dates.” He wasn’t looking to get involved with anyone (he’d just had a breakup). Then a buddy strong-armed him into going out one Saturday night for a movie and dinner. “I figured, what the hell, I’m going to have to eat anyway. May as well get this over with.”

He glanced over at his wife, who giggled. She knew and liked the part that was coming next. “I don’t think we could hear the movie because my stomach was growling.” He was hungry. Instead of a restaurant, they all headed to his home, where she made omelets.

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