I used to handle furniture purchases and disposition for a major hospital, along with space planning, building design and renovations, and interior design. It was sometimes a very daunting job, but I also had a lot of good help. My little team, composed of me and four other staff members, handled all of that for a little over two million square feet. Oh, and I also handled their real estate matters – forgot that. How could I, as it was my favorite part? (Seriously, it was.)

My team was made up of two architects, an MBA, an interior designer, and then me, the psych major. It’s true, really. If you put your mind to it, you can do just about anything you want to do. I remember how when I would introduce myself at trade events or even just in public to someone I didn’t know, the first thing they would nearly always say was, “Oh, are you an architect?” I always had to say no, of course. For some of those who would dig deeper, I’d actually expound on the usefulness of a psychology degree in real life, other than doing mind-shrinking assessments and evaluations. It honestly did come in handy in my daily life.

I decided, fool-heartedly, to go to law school at the ripe age of 38. It was kind of now-or-never, and I decided it was “now” instead of “never” as it was something I’d always wanted to do. I remember most of law school fondly, crazy as that may sound, as I had some really good mentors, great professors, was able to keep my day job, and had great support from family and friends along the way. I also made some of the best friends of my life in law school, many of whom I am honored to call friends to this day. I also had a lot of support at my job. Although I took all but one class at night, after work, my boss and others fully supported my efforts. In my position I was pretty visible to a great percentage of the working population at the hospital, at the employee, manager, and board levels. I had a lot of good mentors at work, as well. People who taught me how to handle business, how to conduct a meeting, how to not be afraid of public speaking, and how to present my case (so to speak) to sell what I was trying to do to make the hospital a better place for the patients and staff. I matured a lot while working there, and I owe a lot of that to the folks I worked with during the 15 years I was there. I owe a lot of it to one person in particular, and I miss him to this day.

He was one of the smartest people I have ever met in my life. I could go to him with *any* problem, and he could always help find a solution, not by telling me what the solution was, but by leading me down a path to find it on my own. Some folks were scared of him, just because of his title. I wasn’t, maybe because I’d worked with him enough to be very comfortable in meetings with him and even working directly for him on occasion. He was my, let’s see, boss’s boss’s boss in my last position there. He was, like Merlin, a magician in some aspects – always able to get to point B from point A no matter what the circumstances. He was also compassionate, empathetic, and hard-working. You were just as likely to see him shoveling snow with the grounds crew during a snowy day as you were to see him wearing a suit speaking on television the next. Nothing – no work – was below him. To him, I owe a lot.

Since my team was in charge of furniture requisition and disposition, we often had items that were taken out of service that no one wanted. We had a huge warehouse where these items went, kind of a Land of Unwanted Furniture, to use a Frosty the Snowman reference. There ended up broken things, out-of-fashion things, and things that just didn’t fit into the new spaces we created. Think a lime green leather-topped bean-shaped 70s mod desk, if you will. A lot of the broken things were recycled or trashed, depending on what they were made of. The out-of-fashion and non-fitting things were sometimes given to employees or others. We also donated some to hospitals in Honduras and to other local non-profits. We had sales to the employees, sometimes with desks going for $20 or a metal file cabinet going for $10. I swear the latter reproduced in the night at the warehouse – there always seemed to be another new 5-drawer “skinny” file cabinet (the vertical kind) the next morning, no matter how many we gave away the day prior. Sometimes we’d get really cool things, like a 7” floppy disk that I once found in an old file cabinet. I passed that along to the IT department for their relics wall. No matter what, there were always a million paper clips in the file cabinets and desks, along with forgotten peppermint candy (always peppermint for some reason), pen tops, and those tiny binder clips. Sometimes we’d get a file cabinet that was unfortunately locked with a mystery key that no one could find. Thankfully, our furniture vendor could get just about any key, or drill the lock if all else failed.

The year that Merlin, as I call him here, retired, someone else took his place. Merlin was also fairly frugal. He worked at a desk that was about 60” wide, had three drawers, and a couple of matching bookcases and short 2-drawer lateral file cabinets. He also had a table, which he made himself (he was a fantastic woodworker in his spare time), and which he took with him when he left. The top on the table was one solid piece and heavy as the dickens, so he had special legs made to hold it all up. It was amazing, to say the least.

Although his furniture was all-wood, cherry finish, and in great condition, the new occupant wanted more desk and less bookcase. So, we had to move the items to the warehouse, hoping that someone, anyone, would want them. It was not inexpensive furniture, although it was not cocobolo by any means. It was just nice, and it was now part of the Land of Unwanted Furniture. It was a sad existence for some really cool stuff. Just thinking of all the major deals, fundraising efforts, negotiations with state and local officials, hirings and firings, and everything else that made the hospital run happened at that desk made it special. Like super special and amazing. If only that desk could talk.

The desk, file cabinets, and bookcases sat in the Land of Unwanted Furniture for months. No one wanted them. No one cared about them. Except me and one of my staff members. We cared. But, we also remembered all the times we were on the other side of that table, near those file cabinets and bookcases, talking to Merlin about our projects, our hopes, our dreams. Everything, really, as Merlin listened, gave advice, and was just present. So present in the moment. Which so many people are not.

Every few months, we had to empty the warehouse, simply because we didn’t have enough room to store everything that came in. Sometimes we’d do the sale, and we were even crazy enough to do a neighborhood sale once. My partner in crime and I stood behind barricades with Security present at that one, to avoid getting trampled in the crush of people. True story. We had not done a sale in a while, simply because it required a full day from my staff, time that we just didn’t have. So, Merlin’s desk, file cabinets, and bookcases continued to sit, unloved and unwanted.

We finally decided we had to get rid of them, as they took up too much space. It was our discretion as to what would happen to them, as administration had given us the authority to do whatever we needed to do with them. In the end, I took the desk and two file cabinets, as I was setting up my home office to be a part-time lawyer. Someone else took another file cabinet and two bookcases. The rest was donated out.

Fast forward about 5 years in the future….

Some days, being a lawyer is tough. Even though I love what I do, and I’m absolutely grateful to be able to help people (which is what I’ve always wanted to do), there are days when I come home, cry a bit, and then try to read or watch TV to take me away from my day. There are days when I have a glass of wine (or two) and a hot bath, again to give me respite from the stories I hear. Today, an older lady actually said she has to hide on the floor of her house at night during holidays and such, to avoid the bullets from coming in her windows and killing her in her bed or on her couch. Hearing that, it really makes you wonder what the hell is wrong with society. Hearing that, it makes me really glad I’m an attorney and can help her in any way possible. Some days, I wish I’d kept my old job, but most days I don’t. Most days, I’m really glad to work for myself, to help people in need, and to live the life I always imagined I would, way back in high school.

Today was a hard day. I won’t lie; I wanted to come home and throw something at a tree in the yard, just out of frustration. Since it’s so darned cold (14 degrees), I decided I didn’t want to stay outside that long, so I came inside. Our tree is still up, as our kids just got home from the Navy. The tree is in my study, where Merlin’s desk and one of his file cabinets still reside, the other having been moved to my solo practice office in a small town 18 miles away. I clicked the light with my foot (it has a cool foot pedal on/off switch), and didn’t turn on any other lights. I stared in amazement for a minute, just going over some of the ornaments from our travels, times past, and kids’ lives. My desk, located about 3’ from the tree, was the perfect place to plop my bottom to ponder for a bit. I felt the tears starting up, and then, all of a sudden, a force came over me. A calming force that told me that I could do this, that I was better than I thought I was, and that I should hold my head high and carry on. Merlin’s force, and his words, came back to me. I know it may sound cheesy, but it is true.

I perched there for a few minutes. I remembered how he would ask me a question I did not know the answer to, every single time I saw him. Some other way of looking at a problem that I had. Some other way of finding a solution. Those are the things that stick with me. The gifts and legacy he left me. The things I won’t forget.

I sit now, at Merlin’s desk, typing this. I have my first client files in that file cabinet located directly behind me. My pens and paper clips are in the top drawer. There is probably a stray peppermint or two there, as well.

I miss those folks at my old job – immensely. I miss the every-other-week architect meetings where I felt needed and a part of a bigger team all working toward the same goal. I miss working with my husband on a daily basis, since he works at the same place. I miss a lot of things.

My little team is all gone from the hospital now – all out doing other things. Two are entrepreneurs like myself. One is at another hospital. Another is working independently and will soon have another opportunity to make a difference. I think of all that we accomplished, and I cry. And I smile. We did good. Even through a lot of strife, heartache, late nights and early mornings, we did what we needed to do. We were, in a sense, pretty damned amazing. I say that not as a “yeah us” but as a “hell yes we made it no matter what” as it wasn’t always easy. I am very proud of my little group, who made the just-about-impossible happen in record time, way under budget and on time.

I think of this desk, and all it has been through. I think of Merlin and where he may be now. I sometimes wish I could have that five-minute conversation that you want with all the important people of your life that are no longer a part of your life. I think that he would be telling me, right now, that I can do this – I only need to think about it in a different light, in a different way, and in a slightly different path.

Thank you, Merlin, for your gifts. You probably don’t know how much I appreciate them, but I am forever and eternally, grateful.