I don’t regret meeting Judge Wally Berning or his wife Cookie. Many years ago, I first met Cookie at the Minot Art Festival. She held a small basket on her wrist as she cruised the pavilion. When I spied her, I gathered change from my pocket and dropped it into her basket as she passed in the other direction, as if she were in search of alms for herself. We chuckled over that for decades.

When meeting Wally, the two of us sat adjacent to each other during a different social gathering at a Minot hotel while others mingled among guests. After introductions to each other, our first discovery included that we both played the violin; then a different shared history was revealed. He asked where I attended dental school. I told him the University of Missouri at Kansas City. His response was, “I went to law school at UMKC.” The past strengthened our future connections. “I worked at a gas station when I studied law,” he added. “Did you work while you were in school?” he asked. I told him I did, including stocking and checking at a Safeway grocery store and, at one point, entered an expected sideline.

“…and what was that?” Wally asked.

I told him, “At the end of my first semester, I learned about the Murrays, an elderly couple who needed someone to help with household chores in exchange for living rent-free in their basement apartment.” It had all begun with mowing the lawn, cutting up a dead tree in their back yard and stacking firewood, some painting here and there, sweeping sidewalks, mowing the lawn and shoveling snow.

It was a good gig until Mr. Murray asked one day if I could drive him on an errand the following weekend. I agreed to pilot his Cadillac Fleetwood — with a size equivalent to two river barges soldered together — over to and back from Lawrence, Kansas.

When we arrived in the home of the KU Jayhawks, he directed me as SIRI might, turn by turn, into the parking lot of what appeared to be a college hangout and bar. I parked. “Pop the trunk,” he ordered. “You wait here. I’ll be back.” He waddled around back, dug around in the trunk, removed what looked like a half dozen cartons of cigarettes, then slammed the lid. He disappeared inside the tavern for fifteen minutes.

After he returned toting a heavy appearing money bag, more navigation commands brought us to another saloon where the process repeated itself. At the fourth stop, my rampant curiosity took over. Once he disappeared inside the last bar, I hopped out of the freightliner to peek inside the trunk. It was filled to brim with boxes full of condoms.

Explaining this to Wally, “What are the odds?” Judge Berning asked. “I also filled condom machines at Kansas City gas stations – likewise with M & M Rubber Company merchandise.” I confessed a feeling of guilt that I never shared my foray into the prophylactic industry with my parents, or that I found my way into other mischief now and again while in school. I offered justification that such things were information my parents (especially Mom) “just couldn’t use.” When I quizzed Wally what part of his school escapades he regretted not sharing with parents, he answered warbling a quote from Old Blue Eyes himself:

And now, the end is near

And so I face the final curtain

My friend, I say it clear

I’ll state my case, of which I’m certain

I’ve lived a life that’s full

I traveled each and every highway

And more, much more than this

I did it my way.

Wallace (Wally) Berning was not only an entertainer, admired judge and great individual, he and Cookie were icons of what is good and special about life in The Magic City.