First, it’s Rosh Hashanah so a time for reflection and hope for the year to come. May it be sweet and peaceful somehow for us all. May there be less horror in the world if there cannot be none. As a Jew and the child of Holocaust Survivors, this past year and last few years have been excruciating in so many complex ways. But here I still am and here we are now. My focus for now is just today. Taking a minute for that self-reflection and to mark the passage of time personally. And to try to enjoy what looks like some kind of post-season anyway for our beloved Blue Jays.

There is a September 24th every year, isn’t there? And for me it’s always a bittersweet moment in time.

The bitter was certainly the devastating death of my father, Robert, on Sept 24 2011, 14 years ago today.

The sweet was learning relatively recently the date on which I was called to Ontario’s Bar in 1992.

I guess I had not started to mark the date before I reached the milestone 30th anniversary in 2022.

You can read about that big celebration here – I went all out and did up the event like it was my last.

Yesterday I gave a talk at the CMHA’s National Conference.

It was the first time I ventured out to such a big crowd and really one of the first attempts I made to get out of my own home in some months, as I have been what my daughter would call “going through it” since spring. With several minor operations coupled with excruciatingly slow and painful recovery, I thought I’d try an in person event.

When I introduced myself with “tomorrow I will be celebrating 33 years as a lawyer in Ontario” there was an uproarious applause. I was befuddled. What are they clapping at??

It took me a while to realize that I was being congratulated on making it this far. 33 years.

Might as well be a life-time. I suddenly felt about a thousand years old.

Not a lot has changed since three years ago when I thought real hard about three decades at the bar, but I do feel the weight of the daily struggle harder, perhaps because of the silly health hiccoughs that have plagued me for the last six months more acutely than the day’s routine, if annoying, aches and pains of old.

Regardless, I do wake each day knowing I have had a really stellar career.

I had no grand plan for one.

Each step I took was not carefully curated with any particular goal in mind.

As one colleague once pointed out (and probably not intended as quite the compliment I chose to receive it as), it’s not as if I set out to make myself an attractive candidate for the Bench, for example. I’ve never been what you’d call “well-behaved” in the sense of deferential to authority, despite that our profession demands at least some hint of that daily.

Instead, I’ve always spoken truth to power. I wear THAT as a badge of honour. It is what has allowed me to look myself in the mirror every morning and sleep at night. I can’t imagine life any other way. I abhor cowardice and have zero respect for the people-pleasers, least of all in the law. I consider trying to make everything nice and comfortable for everyone all the time a real disservice to humanity, because nothing meaningful ever comes of it. I prefer my way, even though it’s not without risk and it’s certainly not going to win me any popularity contests.

But here I still am, a nice round number, 33, years into it, still fighting the good fight.

In the process I’ve helped thousands of people one way or another – whether clients or colleagues or family and friends. By bringing to every interaction and at every opportunity, some sincerely held truth, “real-talk” from my heart but with as much kindness as I could muster – and admittedly in some cases that meant none where frankly none was deserved. But I have led leaning on my experience as a fearless and fierce advocate. And never shying away from the hard stuff, even though it’s not always pleasant. Unpleasant conflict is part of the job here, and someone’s gotta do it. Might as well be me.

Being a lawyer serving vulnerable populations is a true privilege.

It’s also hell on earth often because we are not respected and grossly under-valued, under appreciated.

It’s anger-making, often, for a host of reasons, injustices endured by our clients, and by us.

On that see my comments here:

All of that is to say, I’m now officially into my 34th year as a lawyer here in Ontario and my 12th I guess as counsel in Nunavut.

I still love my clients, my colleagues and my job and if that alone deserves applause, well, let there be applause then. Rather than take it personally as some kind of sign I’ve grown old, let me bask in the glory of surviving so long in the trenches. I’ve accomplished a lot. It has cost me a lot. It’s worth it.

But mainly I just miss my Dad. He would have been the most proud of me imaginable.

My Call to the Bar Sept 24, 2992 – From L To R – My Aunt Judit, My Mom, Me, My Dad, My Aunt Agnes – the Aunts were all my Mom’s sisters, Holocaust survivors all here – now all gone, tragically.

#stayinthefight #strongertogether #speaktruthtopower