Changing titles, changing roles – from to Florida to New Mexico – again
I retired from the Bench in 2000 and last taught in the judicial ed program in Florida in 2001. Going back to the Advanced Judicial Studies’ (AJS) week-long program as an instructor was many things. For one thing, as the photos show, the hotel accommodations were not the same as the (very comfortable) housing at Ghost Ranch in Abiquiu, New Mexico.
As with many professions, judges must complete a certain number of continuing education hours during a specific time. While continuing judicial ed hours are available in the much larger venues of the annual conferences, attendance at the Advanced Judicial Studies is sought after by many judges because of the small class size and variety of topics. For the same reasons, instructors particularly enjoy working at AJS.
Over lunch and breaks, I saw some familiar though older faces. Which raised again the question – how did it happen? That we got old? Knowing intellectually that I’m now 68 years old doesn’t change the fact that – most of the time – I don’t feel the change. Nor do the facts regarding my year of birth justify what is certainly just failing eye sight on the part of others. With coffee in-hand, I walked over and spoke to a judge I last saw 15 years ago. He looked puzzled, read my name tag, and said, “Oh, yes. Laura. I recognized your voice.” Seems he thinks everything else has changed.
I was one of a three-person panel for a day-and-half presentation, working with Rob Atkinson, a law professor at Florida State, and James Sheehan, retired attorney, law professor and author of several books including The Mayor of Lexington Avenue, a novel focused on the wrongful execution of an innocent defendant.
There were 25 judges in our class, titled “Law, Justice, and Morality through the lens of literature;” most were Circuit Judges, some County Judges, and a few Magistrates. They sat throughout Florida in Civil, Criminal, Family, and/or Juvenile. After a day and a half of spirited and open discussion, I left Orlando with a sense of pride for our judiciary. These judges bring integrity, focus, hard work and dedication every day to a job assignment the enormity of which few can imagine.
I knew when I wrote my book that the title, Public Secrets and Justice – journal of a Circuit Court Judge, wasn’t quite right, but it was the best I could do. Several months ago I was explaining to a friend my motivation for writing the book. As I described the enormous impact the children I met in Court have had on me, I said, “They’ve left their footprints on my soul.” He smiled and said, “That’s the title of your book.”
So I’ve tweaked the story ever so slightly, changed a few quotes, and the book is fresh off the press with a title that better captures the importance of the children’s stories – Footprints on My Soul, Journal of a Circuit Court Judge. There are hoops to jump through but it will soon be available under its new title through Amazon and Kindle, and I’ve launched a Facebook page, Footprints on My Soul. It remains available as Public Secrets and Justice.
I had proofs of the new book shipped to me in Orlando without giving any thought to how I’d get them back to Albuquerque. But suddenly the class was over, it was noon on Friday, and I was facing the kind of organizational detail that I don’t handle well, especially not when – as it were – the game was over, I was tired and simply wanted to leave. The staff at Court Admin recognized my deer-in-the-headlights look, provided adult supervision along with a few bad jokes, and we managed to get the books into my roller board and everything else into a pink striped beach bag from the hotel’s boutique. Later in the day, as I began to hoist my much-heavier roller board into the overhead bin on the airplane, a woman in her 40’s said in a concerned voice, “May I help you, ma’am?”
What’s going on? People recognize my voice after 15 years but not my face, staff rallies to help me, and a kind woman is concerned I can’t lift my own suitcase. Did I get old? How did that happen?
I spent Friday night in Albuquerque and drove back to Ghost Ranch on Saturday for the last two days of Intermountain Yearly Meeting (IMYM), where 300+ Quakers from various mountain states gather each summer for wide-ranging programs. I’m particularly drawn to the high desert and red cliffs of Ghost Ranch, a Presbyterian conference center in the area in which Georgia O’Keefe lived and painted; her house is on adjoining property. It was important to spend time with my Quaker Friends in that magical space, enjoying the light and scenery that has held O’Keefe and many others spell bound.
Quakers are uniquely difficult to pigeon-hole; one of the best explanations I’ve read is at the web site for the Port Townsend, Washington Friends Meeting – http://ptquaker.org/what-is-a-pt-quaker. It is significant to me that Quakers have a long history of providing “silent assistance from the nameless to the nameless”, “working among friends and former enemies” to simply, quietly help those in need. Quakers were very active in the Underground Railroad and remain active today in a variety of social concerns. The Quakers were awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1947 for their work after World War II, helping whoever needed a meal without regard to politics or country alliance; the award ceremony speech provides further insight into Quakers in action. http://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/peace/laureates/1947/press.html
More information about Quakers is available at http://www.quaker.org/ Information about Ghost Ranch and its programs can be found at www.ghostranch.org/ And for some reason, I can’t create hyper-links here. But I tried 
the comfortable accommodations at Ghost Ranch are not condo-styled
red cliffs at Ghost Ranch
After lunch on Sunday, I pointed my over-stuffed truck towards Washington. Another 1,500 miles to go, and I need to be there by Wednesday.