Not My Train
“The governor’s office is line two for you.” My heart pounded. Once again someone not the governor had the chore of telling the unchosen prior to the press release that said it wasn’t you. I’d applied to be a juvenile court judge. I detailed my career accomplishments, got glowing references, and confidently answered questions before the judicial nominating commission of nine. They advanced my name on the short list of the qualified. I travelled to the state capitol to interview with the governor. “Next time,” the caller once consoled. Initially I was sufficiently politically naïve to believe them. I resisted warnings that being an advocate for equality as the past president of the Nebraska chapter of the National Organization for Women disqualified me from being a judge in a state whose motto is “Equality before the law.” With each vacancy I,
