April Revelations

Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash

The month of April held a revelation that caught me off guard. 

I know, I know. Isn't that what revelations are supposed to do? Open up your mind to a new idea? Shed light on a topic you thought you had fully explored? 

And maybe that is where this revelation came from, not once but three times: shedding some additional light on a topic I thought I had already fully explored. 

The first Thursday of the month is Justice Bus in Delaware. The Justice Bus is a program funded by the Ohio Equal Access to Justice Foundation; the Bus staff drives to different locations in Ohio to provide a variety of legal services to lower income clients who could otherwise not begin to afford to hire counsel. Attorneys are encouraged to volunteer to meet with clients as part of this program. Our local Legal Clinic entered into a collaboration with them in 2022 to expand community outreach; we have a monthly Justice Bus visit and serve clients with family law/domestic relations matters. 

I stepped away from most of my involvement with the Legal Clinic at the end of last year, but gladly continue to volunteer with the Bus. I recruit our attorney volunteers beforehand and, on Bus Day, I help with paperwork and client questions, and act as a gofer for the attorneys ("Would you print out Form 3 for me?"). 

At the April Justice Bus, we had a rare occurrence: one of our volunteers was stuck in Court. There was no one to take his spot with the client, so I stepped in.

The client was young and anxious. She was there to discuss a dissolution (an agreed-upon termination of marriage under Ohio law). About 15 minutes into our conference, an issue arose that had not yet been discussed, let alone resolved, between her and her spouse. We talked about possible solutions, with me explaining that the issue had to be spelled out in the paperwork before they could file the documents.

When I said she could make an appointment for the May Bus, you could see the strain lift off her face. "Will you be here again?," she asked eagerly. Yes, but not necessarily in this capacity. Her face fell. "I really like you. You helped a lot."

Revelation moment #1.

Later that same day, I prepared paperwork for another Bus client, one I took on back in the fall when it became clear to all of us at the Bus that she would need to be taken through a divorce from soup to nuts. (Note: NOT a complex one. But paperwork is paperwork and she needed someone to explain and assist in preparing it.) The very next day, I met her in the courthouse, and sat in the gallery while the magistrate handled the examination in the final hearing. I had a small gift for her, and a homemade apple pie for her and her partner. Afterwards, I hugged her goodbye, and then walked home.

Revelation moment #2.

Towards the end of the month, a close friend called me about a pending school disciplinary issue. She knew I had worked for Juvenile Court and had experience with the schools; what she did not know is that when I was in private practice, representing students and families in school hearings was one of my niche specialties. I listened, answered some questions, talked about possible outcomes. The parent was clearly (and understandably) anxious. After a long silence, thinking through the situation, I asked, "Would you like me to attend too? Not as an attorney, but as a support person?" Yes. So I did. The hearing went smoothly; we all hugged at the street curb afterwards and I walked away.

Revelation moment #3.

So what was my big revelation? 

I was more than glad to be able to help in all of these situations. (And indeed will be meeting with the young woman at our May Justice Bus, as a few of our regulars cannot attend.) But I do not miss the practice of law. I am not sure I would still be practicing even if I had not had to step away because of the cancer. 

It is not unusual for our local attorneys to practice into their 70s. Having just turned 67, if I followed that path, I would still be practicing for several years to come. 

Until this month, I had not really considered the question of whether I would have gone back if I could. There was no need to consider it, given my health. And thanks to this month's revelatory moments, I know a little more about myself and now know that even if I had gone back, I would have stopped practicing before now. Without regret and without longing. 

And that, my friends, was the revelation.