During the years I dated The First, we lived hundreds of miles apart for all but the earliest days of our relationship.  One of the corny but comfortable things we did was watch TV "together" over the phone, discussing plot points and otherwise long-distance snuggling.

One of our mutual favorite shows (back then it was not a pale shadow of its former self) was Law and Order.   Both the daily re-runs of even better, earlier seasons and the Wednesday-night first-run episodes.  

One night we watched a particular episode; I'm pretty sure it was this one.  Due to (still today) hideously inadequate stalking laws, a woman fakes an attack on herself, hoping to get police attention back on the search for her stalker, who remains unapprehended.  Her stalker does eventually murder her, and the previous faked attack on herself makes the investigation and trial a difficult uphill slog for the good guys. 

This is one of the seasons during which the late, great Jerry Orbach as seasoned older partner Lenny Briscoe was paired with Benjamin Bratt as supposedly attractive (I'm a Chris Noth as Mike Logan and Jesse L. Martin as Ed Greene girl, myself) younger partner Rey Curtis.  Even though the guilt of the defendant is in no de facto doubt, as the investigation and trial wear on, piece after piece of evidence gets thrown out for Law and Order-type reasons that probably contribute to my irrational fear of law enforcement (I can't watch the show anymore, despite how much I used to like it).  

Anyway, Briscoe and Curtis prepare to testify, both feeling plenty guilty and frustrated that they don't have a slam-dunk case even though they know the defendant is guilty--and so do the judge and the defense lawyer--one of those cases.  Curtis gets on the stand and does everything exactly by the book, admitting what they don't know, admitting that the deceased faked the prior attack on her, and so on.

Then Briscoe takes the stand (it could be the other way around in terms of sequence; it's been awhile).  His own daughter's life is at risk because she's going to testify against her drug dealer; she is murdered a few episodes later.  He regrets not having been able to protect another person's daughter. 

Briscoe has been a cop for something over 20 years at this point.  He knows about guilty and not guilty.  He also knows about right and wrong.  He shades his words so that he's not really committing perjury, but pretty much commits perjury, casting more doubt on the previous evidence than was ever presented, suggesting that the faked attack might not have been fake, making himself and his police skills look bad, and so on.

I want to say the defendant is convicted, but I don't really remember.   I do remember Lenny and Rey having this very tense, "I did what will allow me to sleep tonight."  "So did I." conversation at the courtroom door.  

The First said to me, "See, you're like Curtis.  You follow the rules because they're the rules, and trust that somehow things will work out right."

I responded, "Yes, and you're Briscoe.  You do what you think is right because you think it's right, and you don't wait for anyone to send you an invitation, and you don't depend on anyone else's approval.  I wish I were more like you."

It's six years later.  I'll be 30 in a few months.  And I am more like Lenny Briscoe and The First (and also The One, who never backs down from his opinions ever, and has been a better and stronger influence on me in that regard than I think he really knows). 

Professionally, politically, religiously, socially, baseball-ly . . . my principles are my principles are my principles, and I'm not going to change them for any reason.  

I don't need "evidence" to know that everything that outside parties have added to higher education ("assessment," "stakeholders" not named Van Helsing, "student-centered learning," "outcomes," "alignment"--if all this means nothing to you, count yourself lucky) in the last few decades is utter nonsense.  I fill out what paperwork I need to, but I don't let any of it infect what I actually do in the classroom or in my scholarship.  I do not need "the research" to tell me anything about the state of my profession; I'm a sentient being working in the profession, and that is enough.

I don't hide these opinions in faculty meetings, and this has made me some very interesting allies on campus and throughout the profession.  It's also led some assessment-Kool-Aid-drinking types to tell me, politely enough, to shut up.  You'll have to wire my jaw shut.

I don't need "research" or "statistics" or "financial projections" to hold my social and political beliefs.  I'm an ordinary citizen, not a think-tank research associate or congressional staffer.  My beliefs are based on my and my loved ones' personal experiences, on others' experiences I've observed either firsthand or through various news outlets, and on my own principles. None of that comes from statistical tables either.

 I will never respect any Major League Baseball expansion team that didn't beat me onto the planet.  In the last few years I have been subjected to World Series that included The Marlins, The Rockies (whose mascot is the poor man's Barney), and the Tampa Bay Rays.  All three could conceivably make the playoffs again this year.  There is nothing good about this. Get going,BoSox, Phillies, yes even Braves, and whoever isn't the Rockies who could win the NL Wild Card.

There must have been a shooting star the night I said, "I wish I were more like you."  Because thanks to Lenny Briscoe, The First, The One, The Red Sox, The Yankees (who are evil, and I will never change my mind about that either), The Phillies, and in a roundabout way President Obama (with whom I disagree so strongly on just about everything I can't put up and shut up anymore, which is what I used to do with politics).

When someone would tell me I was wrong--politically, professionally, personally--I used to change the subject or politely extricate myself from the situation.  I never backed down about baseball ;-)  I'll still be polite--heck, sometimes it's a matter of professional survival, but I'm not going to back down or change my mind on the other stuff anymore, um, ever.

So thanks, guys . . . well, I guess "guys and Mr. President" would be more appropriate.  If this sense of mental and philosophical certainty and comfort is one of those benefits of growing older, I accept.  30 is not so scary now that I know that, in my mind and heart, I will think and feel exactly the same 30 years from now.