After Graduating Top In My Class From Harvard Law, I Found My True Purpose: Mastering The Pan Flute
My parents were furious. “We gave you everything. Now you want to piss on us?”
As I studied for the bar exam, the haunting music of Zamfir and his pan flute floated toward me from another cubicle and I knew: that was what I was meant to do. My life was on a new path.
Graduating top-of-class from Harvard Law School felt like an accomplishment until I realized I could have been playing pan flute for the past twenty-eight years. Since that epiphany, I haven’t wasted a moment thinking about tort claims, non-binding stipulations, or any of that nonsense. Every minute has been pan flute-related.
My dad was furious. He ranted about the exorbitant cost of sending me to Harvard just so I could blow bamboo.
Mom wasn’t happy either. The plan was for me to be second partner in her firm once I graduated. We shopped at Saks, Gucci, and Hermés for matching suits. I have a closet full of them. When I told her my future held only pan flute, baggy boho pants, and macramé tops, she lost it. “I gave you everything. Now you want to piss on me?”
Then my mother asked why I couldn’t play pan flute on the weekends. She offered to double my salary. I tried to be patient as I explained that pan flute wasn’t a casual hobby like mastering piano or violin. It was a higher calling.
I can’t afford to waste time in a courtroom. I must be surrounded by pan flute music twenty-four hours a day.
I shared a 20,000 sq. ft. townhouse in Georgetown with my fiancé, a handsome criminal lawyer who graduated top-of-class like me (but from Yale). He woke up early every morning to slip out and grab croissants and single-origin Nicaraguan decaf espressos to serve me in bed. We hosted cocktail parties three nights a week, rubbing elbows with Supreme Court justices and other D.C. law illuminati. In other words, a pointless life.
At our last party, we drank Moët & Chandon champagne and ate caviar and escargot while talking with Sonia Sotomayor. She asked me to clerk for her in the fall. There was an awkward silence before I told Sonia I was giving up law to become a pan flute virtuoso. There was an even longer awkward silence afterward.
I thought my fiancé would have my back since there were two Enya CDs in his collection. He did not.
After he left, my pan flute teachers (expert flautists Pablo and Oscar) moved in so I wouldn’t have to learn over Zoom anymore. I was honored that they gave up a life of creating YouTube videos of themselves strolling the Andes mountains, playing pan flute like a pair of raven-haired gods, to come here and train me.
They brought their wives, eleven children, three dogs, a small herd of guinea pigs, and an alpaca. These days, the townhouse pulses with life. The earthy aromas of wet wool and rodent urine have replaced the pretentious odor of the Tom Ford Oud Wood Parfum my fiancé wore. Pablo and his family are in the master bedroom, and Oscar and his family are in the guest room.
I sleep on the couch and wake before dawn when the alpaca starts chewing my hair. That gives me time to feed the critters, put down fresh hay, and practice pan flute at low volume until noon when everyone else gets up.
After I prepare a brunch of Lawry’s® Seasoned Salt-encrusted chicken thighs, the brothers and I play airy, melancholic tunes late into the night. Neighbors have threatened to call the police, but we don’t stop. The rent is paid through the end of the year, losers.
We’re currently gigging at Delmarva Peninsula nursing homes. Our debut performance in the lobby of the Elkton, Maryland Home for the Elderly — where the fresh smell of Pink Wisteria Febreze hung in the air — was a huge success. The residents who could hear us said the music was “interesting,” and everyone enjoyed petting the alpaca.
I fall asleep every night, hugging my pan-flute-shaped body pillow.
Occasionally, I dream of being in a courtroom, dressed in a Ferragamo blazer and skirt, playing a persuasive closing argument on my pan flute before being dragged out by the bailiff. Most of the time, I dream of headlining a pan flute world tour with Zamfir as my opening act. In these dreams, I wear colorful caftans and Ugg slides.
I’ll generously share my music with millions of adoring fans, and I’ll always leave tickets for my parents at the will-call window.
