Kimball Howes Ferris – 50th Reunion Essay

Kimball Howes Ferris

4265 SW Charming Way

Portland, OR 97225

kimball.ferris@gmail.com

971-22-7318

Spouse(s): Sue Kirby Ferris (1974)

Child(ren): Kerby Anne Ferris (1979); Lisa Michelle Ferris (1982); Jill Elizabeth Ferris Harmon (1988)

Education: University of Massachusetts (MLA 1974); University of Massachusetts (MRP 1975); Willamette University (JD 1978)

National Service: SP-5, US Army Security Agency, Arabic Linguist (69-72)

Career: Business attorney practicing in Portland, Oregon from 1978 to the present, since 2011 as a partner at Miller, Nash, Graham & Dunn; emphasizing M&A, real estate, renewable energy, and banking work.

Avocations: Time with family, faith formation, golf, gardening, hiking, water color painting

College: Davenport

Margaret Mead reputedly observed: “Never forget that you are unique, just like everyone else.” My unique family story began with my marriage to Sue in 1974. The family thread was woven into a tapestry of adventures with our three daughters, leading us to places unexpected (and mostly enjoyable). Some random examples: watching our oldest, Kerby (now a software engineer in L.A.), solve the Rubik’s cube as a teenager in just over a minute; escorting Lisa (as Miss District of Columbia) on stage at the Miss America Pageant in Atlantic City in 2003; and celebrating (in 2014) the marriage of Jill to Jason Harmon of Sydney, Australia, where “JJ” reside, where Jill obtained her permanent passport to Oz, and where we recently golfed as a family six-some at Barnbougle Dunes in Tasmania). Today, Sue and I are pet-less empty nesters (awaiting grandchildren), while sharing: a frequent bottle of wine, Dungeness crab, our talk, our time, and our lives together. Like a traditional Christmas card, we focus on family.

I lost my mother at 95 last year. Given her genes and my current good health, I may yet have a chance to continue to grow.

What to do?

For stability, I seek to balance mind, body, and spirit. The practice of law activates my mind. I aspire to become Younger Next Year. With the joy, blessings, and companionship of a long and happy marriage, I take spiritual comfort in the retreat of life’s shadows of fear and, as a pilgrim searching for joy, I balance all with a faith that continues to grow and astound. I feel blessed.

But all is not well.

Recently, “glare-out” functionally blinded me. The miracles of cataract surgery restored my sight. Events blinded many of us in the ’60s—now it’s “deja vu all over again”—unhappily then, as now, without medical miracles.

What to do?

Fellow history majors may remember Professor Lewis P. Curtis, who opined:

Education is what’s left over, after you’ve forgotten everything you’ve learned. Translation: Wisdom supplants knowledge. Relatedly, character may be what’s left over after you’ve done everything you’ve done. Wisdom and character’s primary dividends seem to abide in loving relationships with family, friends, and God. Perhaps they also shine light on some answers to life’s riddles.

Curtis also mused that Yalies were clothed with sprezzatura: the tranquil consciousness of effortless superiority. Intoxicated by that Kool-Aid, I somehow missed needed instruction on these important truths. Perhaps it was the ’60s—perhaps I should have paid better attention.

While I fancy that wisdom and character may have taught me something since then, and while I treasure the friendships formed at Yale, I fear that Mother Yale and we have gone astray. As a generation we have derided, deconstructed, and severed many of the roots that sustain us. To that extent, our legacy of leadership is misguided and largely overrated. It needs to reboot.

Erich Segal got it wrong: Love means saying you’re sorry.

Wisdom and character compel us to apologize, and return home.