It had been a forced gaiety this July 4th. The country was at war and Jarrod had found himself fighting his own inner battles. On this day, as he walked around Washington, he couldn't help but question, not only the path his country was taking, but the one he was taking. He entered the Capitol building, the halls quiet on the holiday and he walked aimlessly up and down the mostly empty corridors, taking a deep breath when he found the law library locked. There would be no refuge for him there today. Continuing his wandering, he nodded out of habit to those few he passed in the hall, saluting when he passed a fellow soldier outfitted in the familiar blue uniform. He spied the bench in the hall and sat down, not paying any attention until he had been resting quietly for several minutes. Looking up, he stared up at the heavy wooden doors and realized where his roaming inside the Capitol had taken him – right to the doors of the Supreme Court chamber and he felt a pang shoot through his heart. Fighting to slow the pace of his beating in his chest, he stood and calmly walked to the door, expecting it to be closed to him, and he chuckled bitterly when he found himself correct. He rested his hand against the door and turned quickly when he heard the voice behind him. "May I help you, Sir?"
"No, thank you. I didn't really expect it to be open."
"You know, this isn't the kind of Court that keeps regular hours like a court might back home."
Jarrod smiled at the older man, his blue eyes sincere. "Yes, I was aware of that."
"Fact is, Court's recessed for the summer, won't be meeting again til the fall."
"Yes, the first Monday of October."
The janitor's head came up. "That's right." A knowing smile crept across his face. "Let me guess. You a lawyer?"
Jarrod shrugged lightly. "I've thought about it, but not yet."
The white haired man stepped forward, the air punctuated by the jingle of his keys as he pulled them out of his pocket. "C'mon, then. It's a sight to see."
Jarrod began to protest but fell silent as the door swung open and he found himself drawn into the high ceilinged room, his eyes going, as always, to the eagle over the court bench, scanning the long rostrum where the Justices would sit. Chief Justice Taney in the middle, Justice Wayne, who had been appointed by President Jackson, sat to his right as the oldest court member and Justice Catron, as the next senior, on the left. Justice Stephen Field sat all the way on the outside of the rostrum as the youngest.
Jarrod's polished black boots fell silent on the rich carpet as he walked into the middle of the room, his eyes resting on the spot where Field sat. He had been in this room many, many times, coming at every opportunity, none more exciting than the year before when Field took his place on the bench.
"You figure you might sit up there one day, young fella?"
Jarrod was pulled from his thoughts. "That would certainly be a lofty goal, but I'm expected home after the war ends."
"And where's home?"
"California."
"The new fellow, Field, he hails from California."
"Yes." Jarrod turned to face the man. "Actually, he's a friend of the family. I was here for his swearing in." Jarrod turned back to look at Field's place on the bench. He knew that if he wanted it, he could clerk for Field when the war was over and he finished his studies. A Supreme Court Clerk. His heart quickened at the thought. Being able to spend his days surrounded by some of the country's greatest legal minds, listening to oral arguments by the country's leading attorneys, perhaps having the opportunity to assist in crafting a Supreme Court decision that would be read by the generations. He would be anonymous, of course, but to have the chance to make his mark, to help his country in a way that few could. It was everything he might want.
Just a few years ago, he could never have dreamed of the possibility that he could be standing in the Supreme Court chamber on the 4th of July actually contemplating the chance to serve the Court on a daily basis. Even minutes ago, it seemed to him that the doors to this chamber, to this life were closed to him. And now . . . he looked again to the eagle that guarded the room, its talons perched still on the shield, the wings outstretched under the arching ceiling, a great bird ready to fly.
He swallowed hard, asking himself if he had it within him to soar freely. He knew this was the life that he wanted and although he didn't expect that he would live his life out in this august body, he knew that he wanted his life to revolve around the world of law.
Thanking the gentleman for the opportunity, he left the room, walking back through the Capitol, his eye taking in the details that filled the halls. His mind reeled when he saw the copy of the Declaration of Independence mounted on the wall and his mind once again flew to the date, July 4th. Independence Day. And he walked to study the document, the words so eloquently composed by Thomas Jefferson eighty-eight years before and he heard his own voice gently whispering them.
When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.
His voice feel silent as his eyes continued to scan the page, ending with the 56 signatures. Staring at the collection of penmanship styles, he asked himself if he could have been one of them. Fifty-six men who had risked their own fortunes, their very lives to give birth to a new nation.
Could he risk all for his dream? Could he risk the life he knew, the life that was expected of him for the life he wanted. He turned away from the parchment, feeling a new resolve and he returned to his barracks, finding his lap desk, he pulled out stationery, pen and ink.
Dear Father . . .
He dropped the letter into the box at the front of the building, and nodded his head to reassure himself of his decision. Turning to join the crowds gathering on the Mall, he waved his greetings to some of his fellow soldiers.
"Happy Independence Day, Jarrod!" one called out.
Jarrod smiled back, his blue eyes twinkling. "It is, indeed."