Perspective

by David J. Weidman, Esquire

At the end of my clerkship with Judge William S. Lee and Judge T. Henley Graves eight years ago, I remember eagerly anticipating the start of my “real” legal career, where I would get to meet clients and represent their interests in Court. Finally, I would get the opportunity to bring all of my legal acumen to bear and take the legal community by storm, making a fine living in the process. Finally, all of the years of hard work would pay off and I would be exactly where I wanted to be, arguing for a living, trying to resolve people’s legal problems, and impressing my peers in the process. A little hubris can be a dangerous thing.

Toward the end of my clerkship, Commissioner Alicia Howard shared with me that the first couple of years of private practice are hard. She was right, but I now realize that she didn’t go far enough, probably not to discourage me too much. The first couple of years were indeed hard. But it didn’t stop being hard after the first couple of years – it is still hard. Looking back, I imagine that she knew that I would have to find out for myself, in a short time, how the demands of the legal profession would compete with the demands of my family life, and I like to think that, just maybe, she felt a little sorry for me in much the same way that a parent knows that his or her child must find out for themselves how difficult the world can be.

Anyone who works in the legal field has a difficult job to do. Lawyers have to deal with demanding clients, the financial pressures of running a business, family issues, time constraints, an ever-changing body of law, and expectations of the judges, who rightly demand meticulous preparation and attention to detail. Judges must deal with increasing caseloads, and difficult decisions involving livelihoods, family issues, and sometimes, life and death itself. Judicial staff must deal with the same increasing caseloads without a commensurate increase in resources.

For all of us, it is becoming increasingly difficult to meet all of our professional demands while finding a balance in our lives to give time to those who are most important to us. For those of you who have mastered this balance, my hat is off to you, and please call me to share your secrets.

The other day, I received an email from a friend which captured the essence of this dilemma. I was so struck by its message that I decided to share it with you in this column, and this is what it said:

The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower view points. We spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees, but less sense; more knowledge, but less judgment; more experts, yet more problems; more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom. We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.

We’ve learned how to make a living, but not a life. We’ve added years to life, not life to years. We’ve been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. We conquered outer space, but not inner space. We’ve done larger things, but not better things. We’ve cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We’ve conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We’ve learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion; big men and small character; steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce; fancier houses, but broken homes. These are the days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill. It is a time when there is so much in the showroom window, and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to hit delete.

Remember, spend some time with your loved ones, because they are not going to be around forever. Remember, say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe, because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side. Remember to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn’t cost a cent.

Remember to say, “I love you” to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you. Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person will not be there again. Give time to love, give time to listen, and give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind . . . AND ALWAYS REMEMBER: Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.

If we died tomorrow, we could be replaced by our employees in a relatively short time, but the family we left behind would feel the loss for the rest of their lives.

Supposedly, this email was authored by the comedian George Carlin, who recently lost his wife. I read it and made a resolution to continue to try to find a balance between my professional life and my family life. For those of you who have found this balance, I envy and congratulate you. For those of you who are still trying to find this balance, I hope the reflections shared here help.

Return to May 2004 Table of Contents.