Make your life your own - advice I need to take not give
Posted: Sat Mar 31, 2012 6:38 pm
I’ve have been reluctant to post this, and perhaps I shouldn’t. It seems I have a lot of these kinds of posts and it may diminish the sincerity of my current thoughts. Consequently, you may (read: should) just ignore this one. Hell, you didn’t know this guy and frankly, you probably think I’m crazy too. You’re right. Stop reading. I just need to get some of this out of me. And, I guess this is my chosen venue since I have no other that makes any sense.
Last Saturday, my colleague of 12.5 years died. He was a very good lawyer and a damn good friend. I met him shortly after being hired. He was a law student at Golden Gate School of Law (in the same tier - or lack of tier as my law school). Initially, we didn’t get along. He reminded me of all of the people I went to law school with that not only drank the kool aide, but went back for seconds. He was arrogant without merit, loud, obnoxious and I was pretty certain I was going to kill him.
Naturally, I was “assigned” to be his mentor. Teach him the ropes, so to speak about how things “really” get done (basically, show him how law school is cutsie in its theoretical way, but there is real work to be done and they will not teach you that in 2L). Indeed, it was tough going. Here I was doing work I hate and having to mentor a know-it-all believer. Damn guy drove me crazy. His briefs were so one-sided, black/white, that I couldn’t wait to break out my red pen and go to town on them, and I did. First he’d confront me (I respect that), then when I wouldn’t budge he’d run to the partners. It was not a good relationship, work-wise. Finally, it was time. We need to go have a beer and hash this shit out. So we did. One fight and one getting thrown out of a bar later we sat on the sidewalk, in the rain, and finally talked. I tried telling him that I wasn’t trying to make him look bad but that he was too green to step on me, he tried telling me that he wasn’t stupid and that his opinions deserved more respect. Soaking wet, covered in blood from fat lips, black eyes and bloody noses, we talked (bear in mind, he was a 270lb rugby player in college - most of that blood was mine). We were both right and that is when our relationship changed.
Now, twelve and a half years later, my friend John died. He died in his sleep after having quit smoking and losing a lot of weight. To be fair, he was never built to get old. He had that heavy wheeze when he had to move a lot and he was dramatically overweight. Despite these issues, it was still a shock. He was only 2 years older than me. There’s only 3 lawyers in my firm and John was my buffer that helped me change my perspective when me and the boss crossed swords (a routine occurrence). John had done what he wanted to do. He became a damn good lawyer, acquired published opinions and was well respected in our field. He achieved his goals, he loved this work, he loved to fight, he loved his job. He was the anti-Goose.
John and I worked on almost every case we had together. Because we didn’t see issues the same way, it was good to spend time poking holes and identifying areas that would be exploited by opponents at trial. Sure, we got heated, but the opinions were well respected.
This week, I’ve been trying to soldier on, deal, triage his cases and maintain my own. Today, I lost it. Sat in the office with the goal of getting prepared for covering his cases and catch up on my own, only to sit here and weep for my lost friend. I'm hoping to use this event as a catalyst for change. Godspeed John P. Baba. You did what you really wanted to do and died on top, not many can say the same, including me.
Last Saturday, my colleague of 12.5 years died. He was a very good lawyer and a damn good friend. I met him shortly after being hired. He was a law student at Golden Gate School of Law (in the same tier - or lack of tier as my law school). Initially, we didn’t get along. He reminded me of all of the people I went to law school with that not only drank the kool aide, but went back for seconds. He was arrogant without merit, loud, obnoxious and I was pretty certain I was going to kill him.
Naturally, I was “assigned” to be his mentor. Teach him the ropes, so to speak about how things “really” get done (basically, show him how law school is cutsie in its theoretical way, but there is real work to be done and they will not teach you that in 2L). Indeed, it was tough going. Here I was doing work I hate and having to mentor a know-it-all believer. Damn guy drove me crazy. His briefs were so one-sided, black/white, that I couldn’t wait to break out my red pen and go to town on them, and I did. First he’d confront me (I respect that), then when I wouldn’t budge he’d run to the partners. It was not a good relationship, work-wise. Finally, it was time. We need to go have a beer and hash this shit out. So we did. One fight and one getting thrown out of a bar later we sat on the sidewalk, in the rain, and finally talked. I tried telling him that I wasn’t trying to make him look bad but that he was too green to step on me, he tried telling me that he wasn’t stupid and that his opinions deserved more respect. Soaking wet, covered in blood from fat lips, black eyes and bloody noses, we talked (bear in mind, he was a 270lb rugby player in college - most of that blood was mine). We were both right and that is when our relationship changed.
Now, twelve and a half years later, my friend John died. He died in his sleep after having quit smoking and losing a lot of weight. To be fair, he was never built to get old. He had that heavy wheeze when he had to move a lot and he was dramatically overweight. Despite these issues, it was still a shock. He was only 2 years older than me. There’s only 3 lawyers in my firm and John was my buffer that helped me change my perspective when me and the boss crossed swords (a routine occurrence). John had done what he wanted to do. He became a damn good lawyer, acquired published opinions and was well respected in our field. He achieved his goals, he loved this work, he loved to fight, he loved his job. He was the anti-Goose.
John and I worked on almost every case we had together. Because we didn’t see issues the same way, it was good to spend time poking holes and identifying areas that would be exploited by opponents at trial. Sure, we got heated, but the opinions were well respected.
This week, I’ve been trying to soldier on, deal, triage his cases and maintain my own. Today, I lost it. Sat in the office with the goal of getting prepared for covering his cases and catch up on my own, only to sit here and weep for my lost friend. I'm hoping to use this event as a catalyst for change. Godspeed John P. Baba. You did what you really wanted to do and died on top, not many can say the same, including me.