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make in two grueling weeks, including overtime, at the chicken plant.

    The impact of a legal education on my economic future struck me like never before. If the law firm paid this much to a summer clerk, the compensation for first-year associates would be even more. I quickly calculated a likely annual salary in my head.
    The rest of the memo was related to dates of employment, a prohibition against working anywhere else while employed by Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter, an agreement that all my work product would belong to the firm as well as receipts from billings, and a confidentiality clause as to both terms of the offer and any proprietary information obtained during my employment. I wondered what in the world I might learn that would be valuable enough to sell. When I glanced up, Mr. Callahan was peering over his glasses at me.
    "How does it look?" he asked.
    I started to hand the fax to him, then stopped.
    "I'd like your opinion, but I can't show it to you," I said. "It has a confidentiality clause."
    The older lawyer laughed. "Consider me your personal attorney for a few minutes. A confidentiality clause doesn't prohibit consultation with a lawyer. I'll review it pro bono."
    I sheepishly handed the offer sheet to him. He read it in a few seconds.
    "The price of raw legal talent is going up," he said. "That beats hugging dead chickens, doesn't it?"
    "Yes sir."
    "And they're going to toss in a name change for free."
    I didn't answer.
    "Oh, don't worry about it," the lawyer said with a chuckle. "Everybody knows your mother as Lu; no one calls her Luella."
    "Except my grandmother and Aunt Jane." I paused. "Mama and Daddy think the different spelling of my name was a mistake by the law firm."

    "Do you want to confess your sins to me?"
    I remembered my comment about telling Mr. Callahan to repent.
    "I can use it for the summer, then go back to the correct spelling."
    "Don't worry about it. T-a-m-i has a nice look to it. I've never been fond of Oscar but couldn't come up with an alternative."
    "You'll always be Mr. Callahan to me."
    The lawyer laughed. "I'm sure I will."
    "What else do you know about the firm?" I asked.
    Mr. Callahan handed the fax back to me. "As you can see from the letterhead, the Braddock firm has been around for a hundred years. Samuel Braddock is a descendant of the founder. I don't know Nelson Appleby and told you about Joe Carpenter. How many lawyers are there? Sixteen or seventeen?"
    I glanced down at the letterhead and counted. "Fifteen."
    "I did a little research for you," Mr. Callahan said. "According to the firm website, less than half are partners. The rest are associates hoping they get invited to join. The firm's representative clients include a couple of shipping companies, several banks, blue-chip corporations, large foundations-the cream of the crop." Mr. Callahan smiled. "I doubt any of their lawyers would be interested in representing a man who rips the rotator cuff in his right shoulder while unloading a trailer in one-hundred-degree heat."
    My face fell. "Do you think it would be a bad place to work?"
    The lawyer held up his hand. "No, no. Don't let my bias on behalf of working folks taint you. I shouldn't have said that. There are many honorable places to land in the law. One of the best pieces of advice I ever received was to dabble in a number of areas, find what brings the most personal satisfaction, and become an expert in it."
    Listening to Mr. Callahan's practical wisdom made me wish he would offer me a summer job. Even if he paid me chicken-plant wages it would be plenty of money for me, especially since I could live at home.

    "It's a long way from Powell Station," I said, hoping my wistful comment might lead the conversation in that direction.
    "You've gone a long way from here already. And I bet you've taken the best your family has to offer along with you. If you take the job in Savannah, folks are going to meet the kind of person who made this country great in the first