We're approaching the endgame in the Brett Kavanaugh saga. His sins, the ones he committed and several he almost certainly didn't commit, are out there now, forever. It won't matter what the truth is, really. You can still find people who think Alger Hiss was innocent. We've said it before:
I came of age in the same era as Brett Kavanaugh. Our paths never crossed; there was never a chance they would, really. We at least one similarity -- we both went to Catholic high schools. The difference between Georgetown Prep and the Xavier High School of the late 1970s-early 1980s is significant, though. While some of the parents who sent their kids to XHS were wealthy, many weren't. Kavanaugh and his family had significantly more resources than I ever did and he was able to leverage those resources, the greatest of which is proximity to the corridors of power. I don't begrudge him that; what would be the point?
For the past two days, I've relayed a few anecdotes about my youth. None of what happened then has anything to do with how I've lived my life since those days. Once I met the future Mrs. D, our lives have been on a mostly steady progression to the middle of the middle class. We've never been wealthy and we still have to talk about money most months, but we've been able to send our kids to college and support their activities along the way. We've been mostly immune from economic hardship and our health has been good enough.
Like Kavanaugh, my 50th birthday is in the rearview mirror. He's on the verge of being a Supreme Court justice; I'm a middle manager. My past will mostly remain hidden because middle managers are a dime a dozen. No one really cares what I did 35 years ago, because it's not relevant to anyone, even my immediate family. What Kavanaugh did, or didn't do, 35 years ago isn't relevant, either. But we print the legend.
More to come.