diary: A weeklong electronic journal.

Lance Martin

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Posted Wednesday, Nov. 24, 1999, at 9:00 PM ET

Each morning I read the "Crime" section of the newspaper. Crime here, being nonexistent compared with New Orleans, seems almost quaint. Last week, someone reported the theft of a Robert E. Lee painting. I believe that carries the death penalty. Today someone reports the theft of the wooden steps and railing to their trailer. That criminal should get life.

Our firm had its traditional Thanksgiving lunch, and what do you know, it was a great time. It was more a case of the staff giving thanks for being able to work for the lawyers, because they supplied the food and we ate it. That detail struck me as less than egalitarian, but who's going to quibble when they're serving fried turkey? I have principles, but I can't boycott if they're doing it the lard way. I was in casserole heaven. I elbowed past several paralegals for seconds on a killer squash pudding. And I exceeded the reasonable-man standard in my pecan-pie consumption. It was, easily, the best meal I have had in Greenville. Some of these ladies need to open their own restaurants. Maybe then the Greenville Times reader survey won't rank Red Lobster and Outback Steakhouse as two of the town's top restaurants.

Surprisingly, no one brought pulled-pork BBQ. East Carolinians really dig on swine, and will cook a pig for any occasion. East Carolina BBQ is good, but it's definitely an acquired taste. The deal is they chop the hog to oblivion, and then dip it in a vinegar sauce. The first time I saw a machete-wielding chef thrashing away at a chest-high mound of pork--skin and fat and meat flying every which way--I questioned whether I could every truly come to love this regional delicacy. But I confess that it's tasty, even if it does look like a Damien Hirst installation. I recommend it with a tall glass of tooth-shocking sweet tea. I also recommend that you get your Q from Bum's in Ayden, because he serves it with yams and collard greens and, if you save room, warm banana pudding.

Before lunch, I churned out billable hours. My workload was not particularly stimulating today, and I don't have anything sexy to report. I worked on one file where our client is a famous NBA player, but the work itself was dull. I drafted some pleadings, crooned into the Dictaphone, and met with my boss on another bankruptcy matter. Productivity ebbed after lunch, as you can imagine. I kept looking for the remote control. Unable to work, I surfed the Web, returned some e-mail, and volunteered to help at the Pitt County Historical Society banquet.

I also planned our Thanksgiving meal. I'm thinking butternut squash soup, turkey with sweet-potato gravy, string beans, spinach Madeleine, corn bread, and pumpkin pie. Anne is on call Thursday, so it will be a Tupperware Thanksgiving at Pitt County Memorial. We may stage an ugly fight tomorrow so we can reconcile like one of those very special ER holiday moments. I could even bring the dogs and let them run down the hall into her open arms. Only, with our luck, the dogs would run right past her and attack a staff surgeon.

I left work at 6, the first to go again. I wanted to attend the ECU Philosophy Club meeting with a friend. This week's topic is the libertarian argument for big government. I don't quite understand that, but it sounds fun. I love those academic mosh pits. Nevertheless, I passed. Anne's been up for over 38 hours, is coming home, but must return to the hospital in eight hours. We had only a narrow window to visit. Cardio-thoracic surgery is a notorious rotation, and Anne expects me to help keep her morale high.

So goes another day in eastern North Carolina. By my count, we'll be here another five years, seven months, and four days. I intend to make the most of that time, despite my tongue-in-cheek skewering of the area and my pining for New Orleans. Maybe I'll use my tenure on the Ayden Tree Commission as a springboard for a mayoral bid. Or maybe I'll make partner and convince S&M to be more generous to their associates. I could always apply for the R.J. Reynolds chair in constitutional law at ECU. I might even get Pirates season tickets next fall. Those purple flags are pretty neat. This place isn't that bad, and Ayden's easy country pace will probably add years to my life. We have beaches to the east, mountains to the west, and cities only a few hours away. I can buy anything I need over the Internet. I can learn to say "chicken in the bread pan pickin' out dough!" Hell, I may never return to New Orleans. It could happen.

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Posted Wednesday, Nov. 24, 1999, at 9:00 PM ET