This is from my president's column in 2007.
I am buzzing around the office and pop in to say hi to our new associate, Mimy Bailey. We ask about each other’s weekends (I worked through mine) and she just looks at me. What? I say. And it tumbles out, the familiar words – how do you have time for everything?
My goal when speaking to young attorneys is to inspire. But perhaps what I’m really doing is causing great fear.
Read MoreOnce upon a time, there were three little lawyers They were sent out into the world to fight for justice for people unfairly injured. Shoulders back, heads held high, arms swinging, feet marching. They were filled with a sense of righteousness and faith in the Seventh Amendment. Optimism permeated their beings as they set up their houses. They couldn’t wait to get to trial. The ultimate tribunal of truth. Oh the joy!
Read MoreThis article was published in the fall of 2005. Last month, a stallwart of the state bar association told me how he still remembers this article - and as he talked about it, I saw him tear up. I take no credit for this. My girls were 16, 14 and 11 when they wrote this in honor of me receiving the trial lawyer of the year award from WSTLA now WSAJ: Proud to be...a trial lawyer's child.
Read MoreI’m at the Scottsdale Plaza hotel to give a speech for the Arizona trial lawyers No time for breakfast. But thank goodness, find a chocolate peppermint Luna bar in my computer bag. Chomp. Chomp. Hat. Check. Watch. Check. Room key. Check. Out the door into the heat.
Read MoreOnce upon a time, it was normal for trial lawyers to argue motions several times a week. We used to sit in courtrooms for hours, drinking in the atmosphere, listening to our colleagues and adversaries present their positions, waiting for our cases to be called. We learned which tactics worked, and which did not.
Read MoreI rush from the courthouse with purse, computer bag and handy firm reusable shopping bag flapping against my sides. I'm late to a perpetuation deposition of a doctor. My co-counsel Matt and I, planned for this contingency earlier in the morning. He would start the deposition and possibly finish it if I couldn't get there on time. But things are looking ok as I run on my tip toes since I don't have time to throw on my walking flats.
Read MoreMy emotional claw reaches out from time to time, grabbing at Noelle and holding her tight. My last child left at home while the others are in college. For one more year. As I get ready for this next week, I reminisce about these past eleven years of being a single mother who goes to trial. The logistics! Several months ago, I had a trial in Olympia Washington. The drive was shy of two hours each way - worse during rush hour. One of my partners said - oh there's a great hotel you can stay at right next to the courthouse. And I said, I have Noelle with me. I can't stay in a hotel. I think he gets it, but probably not. It isn't his fault. My reality is a bit different than his.
Read MoreIn Oregon they don't do many depositions. They have trial by ambush. At times I wish we had that kind of a system in Washington. Instead, we've decided it is most fair to exchange information. I've been in thousands of depositions by now. Because I'm not paid by the hour but rather by percentage, I have no desire to waste time. I've taken depositions in as little as 15 minutes and as long as a couple of days. In general I can get information out of a party or an expert in two hours or less.
Read MoreToday a lawyer friend asked me how I learned to be a crosswalk.
Rewind.
Earlier this year, I "was" a crosswalk during opening statement in a pedestrian versus auto collision case. A few trials before that, I "was" a Holiday Inn courtesy van in a case involving a pilot who suffered a head injury when he struck a low hanging metal object.
Read MoreI am having a very nice conversation with a strikingly attractive woman. She seems to be about my age. We have alot in common and are getting to know each other. We are begining to form a human bond. Or at least we are trying to. There's an impediment.
Read MoreThis is our last day in Paris which means: must get every second we can out of it. Start off by running down to the Tour d’Eiffel then across the Seine . Run back and get lost again because I’m looking for Notre Dame on my left but it is/was on my right. It is only fitting that I should get lost yet again. I’ve never made it back perfectly from any run this entire trip.
Read MoreHave now figured out why the French are so slim. While I have a croissant, macaroon, or other delicacy in my mouth, they have cigarettes shoved in theirs.
When I walk it is bad enough. But running - it's worse than having to deal with all the car exhaust. Go two steps. Try to hold breath. Release breath. Need to take new breath. Another smoker. Try not to inhale, but running and eventually will pass out unless I take a breath. They walk out the buildings with cigarettes already in hand, light immediately and puff. There are so many darling little cafe tables everywhere - even when it is raining they are sitting outside so they can puff. As they walk, they puff. As they talk, they puff. The air is filled with the putrid smell which to me equals cancer.
Read MoreWe rush to make it on time to our last class, cut through the Luxembourg Jardin, exit and realize we shouldn’t have. We are off course, back track and eventually arrive a bit late. Hear the first speaker on Qui Tam – a subject that I don’t think I have any interest in but which is absolutely fascinating. I want to do a Qui Tam. Hear tummy rumbling. Take a quick break. Run to patisserie down the street, pick up a small (it is small – it is it is – well, ok maybe just not gigantic) almond croissant and because it IS kind of small, also get a pain d’raison just in case. Rush back to class and mange both. Much better.
Read MoreAfter another morning of class and petit dejeuner at the same café with Vicky, we get on a bus and drive to the Jacquemart Andre Paris Art Museum. This is a mansion in the area of the Arc D’Triomphe that has been fully restored, furnished in part and upstairs houses an art collection. Today the special exhibit features Rubens and Poussin. There is a tour guide with us. She is in fact an art history professor. Tres knowledgeable and in her heavy but charming accented English begins telling us – even in the bus – of the history of all that we see. We arrive at the mansion. We enter thru the typical non descript façade and step into a scene of beauty.
Read MoreWe meet at a bistro type of restaurant. Our group fills the entire place. Tres impressive. Suddenly, we hear the sound of - could it be - an alto saxophone. Mai oui! There is a bright red headed very slim French woman dressed in a black dress and bomber jacket who has come to entertain us. She waltzes around our tables (I'm not sure how since the sax is as big as she is and there's little navigable room but she is a determined femme). Voila - she is done. We clap.
Read MoreCan I ever be on time for anything? Well, we could have if we’d ignored the delightful petite dejeuner awaiting us downstairs in the breakfast nook. But we don’t. Then we underestimate the walking time and thus arrive at the seminar midway through Jack Sheridan’s speech. We would have been even later if we had stopped at all of the patisseries and boulangeries along the way. He does employment cases and I haven’t heard him speak before. He’s talking about a method to demonstrate emotional damages in whistleblower cases. I like the way he does it with a rating scale.
Read MoreI head out the hotel take a right and manage to find the Seine river. This is my goal because I figure it will be less difficult for me to get lost. I’ve got such great location radar. It is like my intuition just takes me there. I pat myself on the back (mentally because I’m running of course). And notice that I can go down off the sidewalk and run on a path right alongside the river. I do that and head to the right to see what else is downstream. Not terribly interesting plus the path runs out, so I turn back.
Read MoreThe guy sitting across the aisle from me puts his blindfold on, slumps over his blanket and doesn’t move until we touch down about 10 hours later. I have no idea how he does this as we get on the plane at 1:30 in the afternoon. Maybe he’s taken a sleeping pill. Whatever he’s done, it is impressive.
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