Some introspective blogs in the mirror.

What I Want For You

The Virtues of Dead Time

Wisdom From The Agrarians

Mid Week At Work: Endings.

I posted this the other day:

Sigh . . .

And depicted with a horse too. . . 

Kroger retires after 35 years of service  CODY - Worland Wildlife Biologist Bart Kroger retired last month, bringing his 35-year career with the Wyoming Game and Fish Department to a close.  “Bart has been referred to as the ‘core of the agency’, meaning through his dedication and continuous hard work, he has significantly and meaningfully impacted wildlife management within his district and throughout the state,” said Corey Class, Cody region wildlife management coordinator. “Throughout his career, he has been a solid, steady and dependable wildlife biologist, providing a foundation for wildlife conservation and management in the Bighorn Basin.” Through his quiet and thoughtful approach, Bart has gained the respect of both his peers and the public. Bart is best known for his commitment to spending time in the field gaining first-hand knowledge of the wildlife and the habitat that supports them, as well as the people he serves in his district.

 Found this old draft the other day

RETIREMENT ELIGIBILITY

Vesting Requirements

After obtaining 72 months of service, you are eligible to elect a monthly benefit at

retirement age. The 72 months of service do not have to be consecutive months.

Retirement Eligibility

You are eligible for retirement when you reach age 50 and are vested. There is no

early retirement under this plan. You must begin drawing your benefit no later than

age 65.

Which means, as a practical matter, if you are to draw retirement as a Wyoming Game Warden, you need to take the job no later than the beginning of your 59th year.

Of course, if you started at age 59, you wouldn't be drawing much, if anything.

That doesn't mean, of course, that you couldn't be hired after age 59.  You'd just draw no retirement.

The actual statute on this matter states the following, as we noted in a prior thread, from 2023, quoted below:

2. Wyoming Game Wardens were once required to retire at age 55, but a lawsuit some decades ago overturned that. It, in turn, was later overruled, but by that time the state had changed the system. Since that time, it's set it again statutorily, with the age now being 65 by law.  There aren't, therefore, any 67-year-old game wardens.

Statutorily, the current law provides:

9-3-607. Age of retirement.

(a) Any employee with six (6) or more years of service to his credit is eligible to receive a retirement allowance under this article when he attains age fifty (50).

(b) Effective July 1, 1998, any employee retiring after July 1, 1998, with twenty-five (25) or more years of service may elect to retire and receive a benefit upon attaining age fifty (50) as described in W.S. 9-3-610.

(c) Repealed by Laws 1993, ch. 120, §§ 1, 2.

(d) Any employee in service who has attained age sixty-five (65), shall be retired not later than the last day of the calendar month in which his 65th birthday occurs. 

Age limitations of this type are tied to physical fitness.  But what about mental fitness?  As mentioned here before, Gen. Marshall forcibly retired most serving U.S. Army generals, or at least sidelined them, who were over 50 years of age during World War Two, and that had to do with their thinking.  We now allow judges to remain on the bench until they are 70.  Would 60 make more sense?  And can the same argument be made for lawyers, who are officers of the court?

This differs, I'd note, significantly from the Federal Government.  The cutoff there is age 37.  That's it.

Have a wildlife management degree?  Spend the last few years in some other state agency?  Win the Congressional Medal of Honor for single handled defeating the Boko Haram?  38 years old now? Well, too bloody bad for you.

Anyhow, I guess this says something about the American concept that age is just a number and the hands of the clock don't really move.

They do.

On a somewhat contrary note, I was in something this week when a 70-year-old man indicated he might retire in order to take a job as a commercial airline pilot.

He's never been employed in that capacity, but he's had the license for 50 years.  It wouldn't be carrying people for United or something, but in some other commercial capacity.  

He's always wanted to do it, and has an offer.

Well, more power to him.

I did a lot of what this lawyer is doing here, when first practicing, in front of barrister cases just like this.  No young lawyer does that now.

I spoke to a lawyer I've known the entire time I've been practicing law, almost. He's four years younger than me, which would make him 56 or so.  He's worked his entire career in general civil, in a small and often distressed town, in a firm founded by his parents.  When I was first practicing, it was pretty vibrant.

Now he's the only one left.

He's retiring this spring.  This was motivated by his single employee's decision to retire.

I was really surprised, in part due to his age.  I'm glad that he can retire, but it was a bit depressing.  We're witnessing, in Wyoming, the death of the small town civil firm.  Everything is gravitating to the larger cities, and frankly in the larger cities, they're in competition with the big cities in Colorado and Utah.  That's insured a bill in the legislature to try to recruit lawyers to rural areas.*

It's not going to work.

The problem has been, for some time, that it's impossible to recruit young lawyers to small rural areas.  The economics don't allow for it.  The economics don't allow for it, in part, as the Wyoming Supreme Court forced the Uniform Bar Exam down on the Board of Law Examiners, and that resulted in opening the doors to Denver and Salt Lake lawyers.  It's been something the small firms have been competing against ever since.

And not only that, but some sort of demographic change has operated to just keep younger lawyers out of smaller places, and frankly to cause them to opt for easier paths than civil law in general.  I know older lawyers that came from the larger cities in the state, and set up small town practices when they were young, as that's where the jobs were and having a job was what they needed to have.  I've even known lawyers who went to UW who moved here from somewhere else who took that path, relocating from big Eastern or Midwestern cities to do so.

No longer.  Younger lawyers don't do that.

Quite a few don't stick with civil practice at all.  They leave for government work, where the work hours are regular, and the paycheck isn't dependent on billable hours.   And recently, though we are not supposed to note it, young women attorneys reflect a new outlook in which a lot of them bail out of practice or greatly reduce their work hours after just a few years in, a desire to have a more regular domestic life being part of that.

I guess people can't be blamed for that, but we can, as a state, be blamed for being shortsighted.  Adopting the UBE was shortsighted.  Sticking with it has been inexcusable.  I'm not the only one who has said so, and frankly not the only one who probably paid a price for doing so.  The reaction to voices crying in the wilderness is often to close the windows so you don't have to hear them.  Rumor had it, which I've never seen verified and have heard expressly denied by a person within the law school administration, that it was done in order to aid the law school, under the theory that it would make UW law degrees transportable, which had pretty much the practical effect on the local law as Commodore Matthew Perry opening up trade with Japan.

Wyoming Board of Law Examiners bringing in the UBE.

The lawyer in this case is worried, as he has no hobbies and doesn't know what he'll do with himself.  I'm surprised how often this concern is expressed.  To only have the law, or any work, is sad.  But a court reporter, about my age, expressed the same concern to me the other day.

Court reporting has really taken a beating in this state, more so than lawyers.  When I was first practicing, every community had court reporters.  Now there are hardly any left at all.  Huge firms are down to just a handful of people, and people just aren't coming into the occupation.  It's a real concern to lawyers.

It's always looked like an interesting job to me, having all the diversity of being a lawyer, with seemingly a lot less stress.  But having never done it, perhaps I'm wildly in error.  We really don't know what other people's jobs are like unless we've done them.

A lawyer I know just died by his own hand.

I met him when he took over for a very long time Wyoming trial attorney upon that attorney's death.

The attorney he took over for had died when he went in his backyard and put a rifle bullet through his brain.  He was a well known attorney, and we could tell something wasn't quite right with him.  Just the day prior, he called me and asked for an extension on something.  I'd already given two.  I paused, and then, against my better judgment, said, "well. . . okay".  

I'd known him too long to say no.

He was clearing his schedule.  If I had said no, I feel, he wouldn't have done it, and he'd be alive today.

The new attorney came in and was sort of like a goofy force of nature.  Hard to describe.  A huge man, probably in his 40s at the time, but very childlike.  He talked and talked. Depositions would be extended due to long meandering conversational interjections, as I learned in that case and then a very serious subsequent one.

He was hugely proud of having been a member of a legendary local plaintiff's firm.  That didn't really matter much to me then, and it still doesn't.  My family has always had an odd reaction to the supposedly honorific.  My father never bothered to collect his National Defense Service Medal for serving during the Korean War, I didn't bother to get my Reserve Overseas Training Ribbon, or my South Korean award for Operation Team Spirit, I don't have my law school diploma's anymore. . . It's not that they aren't honors, it's just, well, oh well.  We tend to value other things, which in some ways sets standards that are highers than others, and very difficult to personally meet.

Anyhow, the guy was very friendly and told me details of his life, not all of which were true.  He was raised by his grandmother, his grandmother had somehow encouraged him to go to law school,  Both true.

He was from Utah and grown up there, but consistently denied being a Mormon.  His wife was Mormon, he said.  He was an Episcopalian.  As I'm very reserved, I'm not really going to talk religion with somebody I only casually and professionally know, as opposed to one of my very extroverted and devout partners who will bring it up at the drop of a hat, and his religious confession didn't particularly matter to me, given the light nature of our relationship.  As it turns out, and as I suspected, that wasn't even remotely true.  He was and always had been a Mormon.  Why did he lie about that?  No idea.

I suppose this is some sort of warning here, maybe.

The first lawyer noted in this part of this entry had suffered something hugely traumatic early in his life and never really got over it. Some people roll with the punches on traumas and some do not.  We hear about combat veterans all the time who live with the horrors they experienced, and which break them down, all the time, but I've known a couple who didn't have that sort of reaction at all, and who could coolly relate their combat experiences.  Others can't get over something that happened to them, ever.

With the second lawyers, there were some oddities, one being that he jumped from firm to firm, and to solo, and back and forth, all the time. That's unusual.  Another was that he seemed to have pinned his whole identify on being a lawyer.  It's one thing, like the retiring fellow above, to have worked it your whole life and have nothing else to do, it's quite another to have that make up everything you are.  He'd drunk deeply of the plaintiff's lawyer propaganda about helping the little guy and all that crap, and didn't really realize that litigators often hurt people as often as they help them, or do both at the same time.  Maybe the veil had come off.  Maybe he should never have been a lawyer in the first place.  Maybe it was organic and had nothing to do with any of this.

Well, the moral of this story, or morals, if there are any, would be this.  You don't have endless time to do anything, 70-year-old commercial airline pilots aside. You probably don't know what it's like to do something unless you've actually done it, but you can investigate it and learn as much as possible.  The UBE, which the Wyoming Supreme Court was complicit in adopting, is killing the small  town civil lawyer and only abrogating it, or its successor, and restoring the prior system can address that.   The entire whaling for justice plaintiff's lawyer ethos is pretty much crap.  And, finally, you had some sort of identify before you took up your occupation.  Unless that identity was what you became, before you became it, don't let the occupation become it.  It may be shallower than you think.

Footnotes:

The bill:

SENATE FILE NO. SF0033

Wyoming rural attorney recruitment program.

Sponsored by: Joint Judiciary Interim Committee

A BILL

for

AN ACT relating to attorneys-at-law; establishing the rural attorney recruitment pilot program; specifying eligibility requirements for counties and attorneys to participate in the program; specifying administration, oversight and payment obligations for the program; requiring reports; providing a sunset date for the program; authorizing the adoption of rules, policies and procedures; providing an appropriation; and providing for an effective date.

Be It Enacted by the Legislature of the State of Wyoming:

Section 1.  W.S. 33‑5‑201 through 33‑5‑203 are created to read:

ARTICLE 2

RURAL ATTORNEY RECRUITMENT PROGRAM

33‑5‑201.  Rural attorney recruitment program established; findings; program requirements; county qualifications; annual reports.

(a)  In light of the shortage of attorneys practicing law in rural Wyoming counties, the legislature finds that the establishment of a rural attorney recruitment program constitutes a valid public purpose, of primary benefit to the citizens of the state of Wyoming.

(b)  The Wyoming state bar may establish a rural attorney recruitment program to assist rural Wyoming counties in recruiting attorneys to practice law in those counties.

(c)  Each county eligible under this subsection may apply to the Wyoming state bar to participate in the program. A county is eligible to participate in the program if the county:

(i)  Has a population of not greater than twenty‑five thousand (25,000);

(ii)  Has an average of not greater than one and one‑half (1.5) qualified attorneys in the county for every one thousand (1,000) residents. As used in this paragraph, "qualified attorney" means an attorney who provides legal services to private citizens on a fee basis for an average of not less than twenty (20) hours per week. "Qualified attorney" shall not include an attorney who is a full‑time judge, prosecutor, public defender, judicial clerk, in‑house counsel, trust officer and any licensed attorney who is in retired status or who is not engaged in the practice of law;

(iii)  Agrees to provide the county share of the incentive payment required under this article;

(iv)  Is determined to be eligible to participate in the program by the Wyoming state bar.

(d)  Before determining a county's eligibility, the Wyoming state bar shall conduct an assessment to evaluate the county's need for an attorney and the county's ability to sustain and support an attorney. The Wyoming state bar shall maintain a list of counties that have been assessed and are eligible to participate in the program under this article. The Wyoming state bar may revise any county assessment or conduct a new assessment as the Wyoming State bar deems necessary to reflect any change in a county's eligibility.

(e)  In selecting eligible counties to participate in the program, the Wyoming state bar shall consider:

(i)  The county's demographics;

(ii)  The number of attorneys in the county and the number of attorneys projected to be practicing in the county over the next five (5) years;

(iii)  Any recommendations from the district judges and circuit judges of the county;

(iv)  The county's economic development programs;

(v)  The county's geographical location relative to other counties participating in the program;

(vi)  An evaluation of any attorney or applicant for admission to the state bar seeking to practice in the county as a program participant, including the attorney's or applicant's previous or existing ties to the county;

(vii)  Any prior participation of the county in the program;

(viii)  Any other factor that the Wyoming state bar deems necessary.

(f)  A participating eligible county may enter into agreements to assist the county in meeting the county's obligations for participating in the program.

(g)  Not later than October 1, 2024 and each October 1 thereafter that the program is in effect, the Wyoming state bar shall submit an annual report to the joint judiciary interim committee on the activities of the program. Each report shall include information on the number of attorneys and counties participating in the program, the amount of incentive payments made to attorneys under the program, the general status of the program and any recommendations for continuing, modifying or ending the program.

33‑5‑202.  Rural attorney recruitment program; attorney requirements; incentive payments; termination of program.

(a)  Except as otherwise provided in this subsection, any attorney licensed to practice law in Wyoming or an applicant for admission to the Wyoming state bar may apply to the Wyoming state bar to participate in the rural attorney recruitment program established under this article. No attorney or applicant shall participate in the program if the attorney or applicant has previously participated in the program or has previously participated in any other state or federal scholarship, loan repayment or tuition reimbursement program that obligated the attorney to provide legal services in an underserved area.

(b)  Not more than five (5) attorneys shall participate in the program established under this article at any one (1) time.

(c)  Subject to available funding and as consideration for providing legal services in an eligible county, each attorney approved by the Wyoming state bar to participate in the program shall be entitled to receive an incentive payment in five (5) equal annual installments. Each annual incentive payment shall be paid on or after July 1 of each year. Each annual incentive payment shall be in an amount equal to ninety percent (90%) of the University of Wyoming college of law resident tuition for thirty (30) credit hours and annual fees as of July 1, 2024.

(d)  Subject to available funding, the supreme court shall make each incentive payment to the participating attorney. The Wyoming state bar and each participating county shall remit its share of the incentive payment to the supreme court in a manner and by a date specified by the supreme court. The Wyoming state bar shall certify to the supreme court that a participating attorney has completed all annual program requirements and that the participating attorney is entitled to the incentive payment for the applicable year. The responsibility for incentive payments under this section shall be as follows:

(i)  Fifty percent (50%) of the incentive payments shall be from funds appropriated to the supreme court;

(ii)  Thirty‑five percent (35%) of the incentive payments shall be provided by each county paying for attorneys participating in the program in the county;

(iii)  Fifteen percent (15%) of the incentive payments shall be provided by the Wyoming state bar from nonstate funds.

(e)  Subject to available funding for the program, each attorney participating in the program shall enter into an agreement with the supreme court, the participating county and the Wyoming state bar that obligates the attorney to practice law full‑time in the participating county for not less than five (5) years. As part of the agreement required under this subsection, each participating attorney shall agree to reside in the participating county for the period in which the attorney practices law in the participating county under the program. No agreement shall be effective until it is filed with and approved by the Wyoming state bar.

(f)  Any attorney who receives an incentive payment under this article and subsequently breaches the agreement entered into under subsection (e) of this section shall repay all funds received under this article pursuant to terms and conditions established by the supreme court. Failure to repay funds as required by this subsection shall subject the attorney to license suspension.

(g)  The Wyoming state bar may promulgate any policies or procedures necessary to implement this article.  The supreme court may promulgate any rules necessary to implement this article.

(h)  The program established under this article shall cease on June 30, 2029, provided that attorneys participating in the program as of June 30, 2029 shall complete their obligation and receive payments as authorized by this article.

33‑5‑203.  Sunset.

(a)  W.S. 33‑5‑201 and 33‑5‑202 are repealed effective July 1, 2029.

(b)  Notwithstanding subsection (a) of this section, attorneys participating in the rural attorney pilot program authorized in W.S. 33‑5‑201 and 33‑5‑202 shall complete the requirements of the program and shall be entitled to the authorized payments in accordance with W.S. 33‑5‑201 and 33‑5‑202 as provided on June 30, 2029.

Section 2.  There is appropriated one hundred ninety‑seven thousand three hundred seventy‑five dollars ($197,375.00) from the general fund to the supreme court for the period beginning with the effective date of this act and ending June 30, 2029 to be expended only for purposes of providing incentive payments for the rural attorney recruitment program established under this act. This appropriation shall not be transferred or expended for any other purpose. Notwithstanding W.S. 9‑2‑1008, 9‑2‑1012(e) and 9‑4‑207, this appropriation shall not revert until June 30, 2029.

Section 3.  This act is effective July 1, 2024.

Blog Mirror: An Offbeat Approach to Graduate Study in the Humanities

Interesting article with a career angle:

An Offbeat Approach to Graduate Study in the Humanities

Reserve Retirement & Regrets.

It dawned on me the other day that if I'd stayed in the National Guard, I'd have been able to start drawing Reserve retirement pay starting in late May.

Even though I was in the Guard for six years, I've never really been able to grasp how Guard retirement pay works.  I tried to look it up this morning, and learned that it's on a point system, one of those nifty military devices that has been around since at least World War Two in some ways.  The system by which soldiers who fought in the ETO were eligible to go home, for example, when the war ended was based on points.

Anyhow, there are some really useful net articles on this topic, of which this is one:

A Quick Overview of How Active Duty and Reserve Retirement is Calculated

What I ended up with, in the end, was this useful rough example, from the above:

The Final Pay Pension

Whatever max pay you find for that rank, multiply it by the service percent multiplier and round it down to the nearest dollar.

That’s your monthly pension.

For an E-7 with 2134 points starting their pension in 2016 it’d be $5061.30 * .1482 = $750/month.

Of course, you wonder how this applies to yourself.  I was an E5 when I got out, and would have had to have gone (and should have already gone) to the NCO Academy if I was to carry on.  Indeed, for the last half of my time in the Guard, I was in an E7 slot for much of that time.  

Had I stayed in, I would have gone to Officers Candidate School.  It would not have made sense not to, and I was eligible to do so.  One of my good friends from the Guard did do so, and he retired from the Guard as a Colonel after reaching age 60.

Without trying to really figure the math, I think I likely would have drawn, had I taken that course, and assuming that I didn't take a grenade in a street in Iraq or Afghanistan, would have been around $1,000 to $1,500 per month.

Not bad, but not enough to live on, which, of course for reserve service, makes sense.

Some reservists, I should note, draw considerably more and even approach Regular retirement pay as they have so many active duty points.  That would have made a difference, as our Guard units did serve in Afghanistan and Iraq, although not every soldier in the local units served in both. Some did.  Some did more than one tour in one of those countries, for that matter.

Here's a big thing, however.

All retired National Guard and Reserve members and their eligible family members may participate in a TRICARE health plan. You have access to certain services and health care benefits based on your age, retiree status, and location. 

• You may get care at military hospitals and clinics if space is available. 

• You remain eligible for the TRICARE Pharmacy Program. 

• You may choose to purchase dental and vision coverage through the Federal Employees Dental and Vision Insurance Program (FEDVIP).

That alone makes me wish I'd stayed in the Guard and gone to OCS.  I wouldn't be retired in the real sense now, but in real terms, I'd be a lot better off insurance wise.

Or so I say. At age 24, when I ETSed, I don't know that insurance was on my mind.  

Well, I know it wasn't.

I also know that our full time NCS who was our Retention NCO wasn't doing a good job.

Lex Anteinternet: Monday at the Bar: The best of both worlds: Rodeo...

From Opal Harkin's Instagram. The sentiments on the mortaboard are quite correct.  FWIW, it's a little unusual to see mortorboard for a law school graduation, more typical is a certain sort of old style beret.

Earlier this week, I ran this post:

Lex Anteinternet: Monday at the Bar: The best of both worlds: Rodeo...:   

Monday at the Bar: The best of both worlds: Rodeo and law live side by side in the life of CNFR competitor

 

The best of both worlds: Rodeo and law live side by side in the life of CNFR competitor

When I did so, I did it without commentary.

Didn't have the time to comment.

Opal Harkins (what a delightful old school name), has had an impressive rodeo career, and a pretty impressive academic one as well.  Included in that academic career, she's just completed attending law school.   That's what made me curious, as it's really unusual.

It would not, quite frankly, be easy to go to law school and be on a rodeo team, although one of the members of my law school class was a place kicker (or whatever the kicker on a football team is called) for one year on the UW football team, and one of the members of my father's dental school class was also a rodeo team member for his university, and a very accomplished one at that.  The latter, I'd note, would be even more difficult than going to law school and being on a rodeo team.

So, it's possible.

Opal Harkins had a long association with rodeo, and did throughout her academic career.  She was, for example, the National High School Rodeo Queen for 2016-17, which I only know due to this story.  Oddly enough, she was sort of homeschooled, although through what I'd call remote schooling for high school students, which means she studied from home, but through an online program run through a Montana university, but had home school aspects.  Indeed, when I read it I thought it was probably because she came from a remote ranch, but that doesn't seem to be the case.

The five Harkins siblings are memorable for their talents alone – but their unique names contribute to their trademark as well. The three oldest siblings are boys: Odis, Othniel and Ogden, followed by two girls: Ouana and Opal.

“The story is that in my mom’s family, their names all start with “Sh” and my dad’s brothers and sister all start with “J,” says Harkins. “Odis was named after my great-grandpa, and after that, they had to keep the tradition up and find
“O” names for all the rest of us.”

Like the rest of her siblings, Harkins was homeschooled until 7th grade, when she had the choice to attend public school, which she did for a year. “My parents decided to homeschool all of us so they could be in control of what we were being taught,” says Harkins. “They wanted to be the main influence in our life and didn’t want it to be teachers or other students.” They learned through a Christian curriculum, including taking Bible classes since they were young.

The homeschool flexibility worked perfectly for a family that loved to rodeo together.

“We had schedules when we were all homeschooled together, we would work ahead on cold days and then ride all day on warm ones,” she says.

Now, technically a junior in high school, Harkins is again homeschooling and also taking college courses through the Montana State University – Billings High School Connections program. When she graduates high school, she will also have an associate’s degree in English.

“Being homeschooled is the reason why I am where I am in college right now,” she says. “It taught me to be self-motivated, and being able to take high school classes when I was in 8th grade is the reason why I was able to start college my freshman year of high school.”

Following graduating from that, she went on to university and then on to law school, staying in rodeo the the entire time.  She obtained a big following in her high school years, with one print commentary calling her "a natural doe-eyed beauty", something I wouldn't have expected to see in print following the 1940s.

There's a number of Harkins who are lawyers in Billings, and she's likely (well. . .is) the daughter of one of them.  So she's basically following in her father's footsteps.  I wonder, in fact, if she'll hang her shingle there.

There are a lot of negative things posted here about the practice of law, without a doubt, including some comments about how lawyers themselves, surrendering their professionalism to their wallets, and law schools, having churned out vast numbers of lawyers in the 60s and 70s, have caused the profession not to be that.

And those comments are deserved.  

A former president of the Wyoming State Bar had a "proud to be a Wyoming lawyer" campaign at one time.  Well, that was before the UBE meant that a lot of those lawyers never darkened Wyoming's border.  Plenty of "Wyoming lawyers" today are Colorado lawyers, or Utah lawyers, or Texas lawyers, and that's for the money.

What else would it be for?

But in fairness, law has and still does provide a means for a lot of rural people to make an in town living. And a lot depends on the type of law a person does.  Litigation is one thing, estate planning quite another.  Domestic relations, something else.  As a child of a lawyer, perhaps she knows which direction she's headed.  A lot of new law school grads really don't.

One of the things noted in the article was this:

One day, she’ll have a career that will allow her to continue rodeoing, she’ll be able to afford her own nice trailer and nice horses.

I'm inclined to say, don't bet on it.  And don't bet on having the time to be able to enjoy, well, pretty much anything of that type.  But maybe I'll be wrong, and indeed lots of lawyers I know manage to do just that.  And that says something about matching a career to a personality, something there is very little effort to do, at least by my observation, for law students.  

Well, anyhow, remarkable story.

Watching the mule auction this past Sunday brought me to a possible explanation as to why so many Western legal organizations like to feature cowboys in their propoganda.

And that's because it's honest, and manly, work.

Cowboy, 1888.   This is, for some reason, how lawyers often tend to see themselves.

It was Bates v. State Bar of Arizona in which the United States Supreme Court destroyed the professionalism of the legal profession.  In that 5 to 4 decision, the Court found that a rule of the Arizona State Bar preventing advertising violated the First and Fourteenth Amendments. It further held that allowing attorneys to advertise would not harm the legal profession or the administration of justice.

They were wrong.

As was often the case in that era, the majority had its head up its butt.  In reality, advertising destroyed decades of work by the early 20th Century American Bar Association and drug the occupation of being a lawyer from that of a learned profession down to a carnival barker.

Recently I watched the Netflix uploaded episodes of the Korean television series The Extraordinary Attorney Woo (이상한 변호사 우영우). In it, every one addressed attorneys by their patronymic and the title "Attorney", even if they were personally familiar with them.  So, for example, every time somebody addressed the central protagonist, they did so as "Attorney Woo".   That struck me as odd, so I looked it up to see if that was correct, and found a Korean language site entry that stated off with a comment that was something like "unlike the United States, attorneys in Korea are a respected profession".

That struck me, as I hadn't really thought about it like that.  When I started off in this line of work, we were still somewhat regarded as respected professionals and its hard to forget that's now in the past.

The decline was in, however, already by that time.  When we were admitted to the bar, Federal Judge Court Brimmer gave a speech about civility in litigation.  I've heard versions of it many times since. When I first started practicing, advertising was just starting here, and it was the domain of plaintiff's lawyers for the most part.  It still is.

Bates got us rolling in this direction, but the flood of 60s and 70s vintage law school graduates did as well.  Too many lawyers with too little to do, expanded what could be done in court.  Lawyers have backed every bad cause imaginable in the name of social justice. That's drug the profession down.

How we imagine ourselves.

I think we know that, which is why I think we also go out of our way to associate ourselves with occupations that have real worth.  We like conventions featuring the West, both for defense and plaintiffs, rather than sitting in front of our computers in office buildings in Denver and Salt Lake City.

Nobody, that is, wants to go to the "2023 Sitting On Your Ass Asking Insurance Carriers For Money" conference.  No, we do not.  We want to go instead to the "2023 Blazing Saddles and High Noon Conference".  

But what are we really?

How everyone else sees us.

It's a real red meat question, but it needs to be asked.  To some extent, civil litigation started off as a substitute for private warfare.  But now?  Many people have asked if this is a virtuous profession, but beyond that is it, well, manly?

Many lawyers aren't men, of course.  But if there are occupations that exhibit male virtues and natures, is this one?

Our constant association of ourselves with occupations that do, and the use of language borrowed from fields that are, suggests we don't think so.

As we really are.

A Quora Question: "Is it possible to start law school at 60 years old in order to become a lawyer? Would I still have a place and a decent career?"

Geez Louise, what an absolutely stupid question.

NO, it isn't.

Well, more accurately, you can probably gain admittance to law school, spend three years in your early old age/late middle age studying the law, and graduate, and then come out unwanted, and for good reason.

I did post a reply:

So many rosy answers to this question.

In reality, practicing law is a hard job and even after you graduate with a law degree, you won’t know how to practice law. It takes a good 5 to 10 years to become competent at it. Most law firms aren’t going to want to invest in somebody whose career will be shortened by mortality if nothing else.

Added to that, as a lawyer who is now the age that you are asking about, I’ve watched plenty of lawyers of excellent skills whose abilities dropped off like a rock when they hit their 60s. Some became almost painful to watch, and they’d practiced for years.

Finally, there are a limited number of jobs in the field, and positions in law school. By age 60, you’ve had your career and the bulk of your life, whatever it may be, and will be taking a spot from somebody who hasn’t and who is trying to build their life. So, is it possible? Sure, it’s possible. Is it likely, probably not, or at least not the way that you imagine it. And while you're working at that, you're taking something from somebody younger.

This brings up two things.

Time really does advance well beyond our ability to appreciate it.  I'm 60, and as a mule auction this past weekend doped slapped me into admitting, I've shot my bolt, career wise.  In my 20s I still could have learned to ride like those guys, maybe in my 30s.  In my 60s?  No way.  

I've posted on this before, but at some point you are just committed, one way or another.  Life may allow second chances, but it doesn't hold back the hands of the clock.  If you are a 60-year-old lawyer with 30 years of experience, that's what you are.  If you are a 60-year-old lawyer with 30 years of experience who wishes that he could be on horseback every day, well too @#$#@#$ bad for you.  You aren't, and you aren't going to be.  

If you are a 60-year-old middle management white collar worker who has watched a pile of legal dramas over the past 40 years and wished you had become a lawyer, well, wake up.  You aren't going to be one and the profession doesn't want you.

Law school at 60?  Get real.  Your mind isn't what it once was.  Your body isn't either.  A big problem in the law right now is that older lawyers don't realize this and keep on keeping on.

Upon reaching 60

That's how old I am today.

When I was young.  I was about three when this photos was taken, maybe two.  My father was 36 or 37.

Americans like to debate at what age you are "old", with that benchmark, and the one for middle age, moving over the years to some extent.  Some go so far as to claim that the term doesn't mean anything. 

It does, as you really do become older and then old, at some point.

The United Nations categorizes "older" as commencing at age 60, something, given their mission, that would encompass the totality of the human race.  Some polling you'll see suggests that Americans regard it actually starting at 59 or 57.  Pew, the respected polling and data institution, noted the following:

These generation gaps in perception also extend to the most basic question of all about old age: When does it begin? Survey respondents ages 18 to 29 believe that the average person becomes old at age 60. Middle-aged respondents put the threshold closer to 70, and respondents ages 65 and above say that the average person does not become old until turning 74.

Interesting.

It is not like flipping a switch, and it doesn't really happen to all people at the exact same time.  I'm often reminded of this when I observe people I've known for many years.  Men in particular, I used to think, aged at a much different rate than women.  I knew a few of my contemporaries who were getting pretty old by the time they were in their 30s, and I know a few men in their 70s who are in fantastic shape and appear much younger than they really are.  I recall thinking, back when I was in my late 20s, that my father was getting older, but wasn't old, right up until the time he died at age 62.

Having said that, I’m often now shocked, I hate to admit, by the appearance of women my own age, again that I knew when they were young.  It's not like I know every girl I went to high school with, but I know a few of them, and some of them have held up much better than others.  In that category, some of my close relatives have really held up well.

Up until recently, I could say that I've held up well, but this past year has been really rough health wise. First there was colon surgery in October, followed by a prolonged medical addressing of a thyroid nodule which was feared, at first, to be aggressive cancer. Working that out is still ongoing, but that now appears much less likely, meaning that only half the thyroid will need to be removed.  

All of that has reminded me of Jesus' address to Peter:

Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger, you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.

John, Chapter 21.

Peter, by the way, was between age 64 and 68 when he was martyred.  St. Paul was over 60, it's worth noting, when he met the same fate.

It's been rough in other ways as well.  One thing is that, in spite of what people like to claim, your fate is really fixed by age 60.  You aren't going to leave your job as an accountant and become an Army paratrooper.¹ If you are a paratrooper, you're going to retire now, as 60 is the military's retirement cutoff age.  If you've spent decades in the Army, and retire at 60 (most servicemen retire before that), you aren't going on, probably, to a career you don't have any strong connection with.

In my case, as I started to type out here the other day and then did not, as it didn't read the way I really wanted it to, I can now look back on a long career, over 30 years, and largely regard it as a failure, even though almost everyone I know would regard it as a success.  I won't get over that.  I'd always hoped to make the judiciary, but I'm not going to, and there's no longer even any point in trying.  I'm reminded of this failure every time I appear in front of one of the new judges and see how incredibly young they now are, and also when I listen to suggestions that the retirement age for judges be raised up to the absurdly high 75.

At age 60, if I were to go to work for the state (which I'm also not going to), I couldn't really ever make the "Rule of 85" for retirement.  As a lifelong private practice attorney, I'm now actually at the age where most lawyers look at their career, and their income, and decide they can't retire, some retreating into their office personality as the last version of themselves and nothing else.  I'm not going to become a member of the legislature, something probably most young lawyers toy with the idea of.  I'm not going to become a game warden, something I pondered when young.²  I'm way past the point where most similar Federal occupations are age restricted, and for good reason.

This is, work wise, pretty much it.

I said to myself, this is the business we've chosen; I didn't ask who gave the order, because it had nothing to do with business!

Hyman Roth, to Michael Corleone, in The Godfather, Part II ,

I'm also never going to own my own ranch, which was a decades long career goal.  I have acquired a fair number of cattle, but my operation is always going to be ancillary to my in laws at this point.  When I was first married my wife and I tried to find our own place, with she being much less optimistic about it than I. There were times, when the land cost less, that we could almost make, almost, a small place. We never quite did, and now, we're not going to.

Indeed, thinking back to St. Peter, I'm now at the age of "you can't", with some of the "can'ts" being medical.  I could when I was younger, but now I can't, or shouldn't.  Others are familial.  "You can't" is something I hear a lot, pertaining to a lot of things, ranging from what we might broadly call home economics, in the true economic sense, to short term and long term plans, to even acquisitions that to most people wouldn't be much, but in my circumstances, in the views of others, are.  Some are professional, as ironically it's really at some point in your 50s or very early 60s where you are by default fully professionally engaged, with that taking precedence over everything else, including time for anything else.

One of the most frustrating things about reaching this age, however, is seeing that you probably will never see how some things turn out, and you don't seem to have the ability to influence them.  I'm not, in this instance, referring to something like the Hyman Roth character again, in which he hopes to see the results of his criminal enterprise flourish but fears he won't live long enough to.  Indeed, I find myself curiously detached from concerns of this type that some people have.  I've noticed, for instance, the deep concern some aging lawyers have about their "legacy" in the law, which often translates to being remembered as a lawyer or their firm's carrying on.  I don't have those concerns, and indeed, taking the long view of things, I think it's really vanity to suppose that either of those wishes might be realized by anyone.

No, what I mean is that by this age there are those you know very closely, and you have reason to fear for their own long term fate, but you really don't have much you can do about it.  People who seem to be stuck in place, for instance, seem beyond the helping hand, and more than that, they don't really want, it seems, to be offered a hand.  People who have walked up to the church door but who won't go in as it means giving up grudges, burdens or hatreds, can't be coaxed in, even it means their soul is imperiled.  It recalls the last final lines of A River Runs Through It. .

I remember the last sermon I ever heard my father give, not long before his own death:

Each one of us here today will, at one time in our lives, look upon a loved one in need and ask the same question: We are willing Lord, but what, if anything, is needed? For it is true that we can seldom help those closest to us. Either we don’t know what part of ourselves to give, or more often than not, that part we have to give… is not wanted. And so it is those we live with and should know who elude us… But we can still love them… We can love—completely—even without complete understanding….

I guess that's about right. 

Footnotes:

1.  Or, I might note, a Ukrainian Legionnaire.  You are too old to join.

Interestingly, I recently saw an article by a well known, I guess, newspaper reporter who attempted to join the U.S. Army in his upper 40s.  He apparently didn't know that you are well past the eligible age of enlistment at that point.  He was arguing that there should be some sort of special unit made for people like himself, or like he imagined himself, well-educated individuals in their upper 40s.  Why should there be if you can recruit people in their 20s?

2. Wyoming Game Wardens were once required to retire at age 55, but a lawsuit some decades ago overturned that. It, in turn, was later overruled, but by that time the state had changed the system. Since that time, it's set it again statutorily, with the age now being 65 by law.  There aren't, therefore, any 67-year-old game wardens.

Statutorily, the current law provides:

9-3-607. Age of retirement.

(a) Any employee with six (6) or more years of service to his credit is eligible to receive a retirement allowance under this article when he attains age fifty (50).

(b) Effective July 1, 1998, any employee retiring after July 1, 1998, with twenty-five (25) or more years of service may elect to retire and receive a benefit upon attaining age fifty (50) as described in W.S. 9-3-610.

(c) Repealed by Laws 1993, ch. 120, §§ 1, 2.

(d) Any employee in service who has attained age sixty-five (65), shall be retired not later than the last day of the calendar month in which his 65th birthday occurs. 

Age limitations of this type are tied to physical fitness.  But what about mental fitness?  As mentioned here before, Gen. Marshall forcibly retired most serving U.S. Army generals, or at least sidelined them, who were over 50 years of age during World War Two, and that had to do with their thinking.  We now allow judges to remain on the bench until they are 70.  Would 60 make more sense?  And can the same argument be made for lawyers, who are officers of the court?

The death throws of the newspapers.

Back when I was in high school, I briefly toyed with the idea of becoming a journalist.

I was never very serious about it, it was only one of the possibilities I was considering.  In junior high and my first year or so of high school, I was fairly certain that I'd pursue a career as an Army officer, but already by that time that desire was wearing off. I liked writing and still do, so it seemed like a possibility.  I also liked photography, and still do, and it seemed like a career where you could combine both, although in that era press photographers were usually just that, photographers.  

I took my high school's journalism class as a result and was on the school newspaper.  Doing that, I shot hundreds of photographs of our high school athletes, as well as some really interesting events.  I did learn how to write in the journalist's style, which involves summarizing the story in the first paragraph figuring that some people will read no more than that, summarizing it again in the last paragraph, and filling in the story in between.  Good news stories still read that way, although I've noticed in recent years that is observed less and less.

During that year or so I had the occasion to tour the local paper, and the class had a senior, a young woman, who actually already worked there as a reporter.

That paper was no small affair.  The paper was a regional one, as well as the city paper, and it's building just off of downtown, still there was very large.  That large structure, with a massive open news floor and a big printing room, was at least the fourth locality it had occupied, outgrowing the prior three.  It would outgrow that one was well and build an absolutely massive structure just outside of town.

Last year, it sold it.

Now, the paper is headquartered in what was once a bar/restaurant downtown.  Much, much smaller.  It doesn't have presses anymore, it prints the paper in another state.  Far from having a large staff of reporters with dedicated beats, it's down to one or two writers who are always "cubs", just starting out.  It doesn't print newspapers at all on two days a week, right now, but relies on an electronic edition that mimics the appearance of a newspaper on your computer.

You can't pick up and thumb through a pdf.

This past week, it announced that it was going to quit printing a Sunday edition and quit physical home delivery for the three issues per week it will still print. Those will be mailed from the printing location in another state.

It's dying.

It's not surprising really, but it is sad.

At one time, it was a real force to be reckoned with, and people frankly feared it.  Everyone subscribed to it.  I know one family that sued it for liable due to what they regarded as inaccurate reporting on them.

Newspapers reformed themselves after the introduction of radio.  That's something that tends not to be very well known about them.  Before radio, many newspapers tended to be some species of scandal rag and they were usually heavily partisan in their reporting.  You can think of them, basically, the way people think of Fox News today.  As radio cut into their readership, papers consolidated and adopted a new ethic that they reported objectively.

They frankly never really achieved full objectivity, as that may not be possible.  But they did strive for it.  The introduction of television reinforced this.  Newspapers became the place where you could, hopefully, get complete objective news and, hopefully, in depth news on various topics.  Even smaller newspapers had dedicated reporters per topic, larger ones very much so.  The local paper had local reporters that reported per topic assignment.  A big paper, like the Rocky Mountain News, had very specified reporters.  The Rocky Mountain News, for instance, had a religion reporter whose beat was just that topic.  A surprising number of local papers sent reporters to South Vietnam during the Vietnam War just to report on the war.

That's all long past.  For quite some time, reporters have become generalists by default, and as a rule, they can't be expected to have an in-depth understanding of any one topic. For that reason, they are frequently inaccurate, even on a national level.  Just today, for example, I read a national story which repeatedly referred to Communion Hosts as "wafers". That's not the right term.  Reporters on crime blindly accept the "mass shooting" and "high powered rifle" lines without having any idea what they mean.  Print reporters repeat in some instances, depending upon individual reporters, hearsay as fact, in part because they likely don't have the time to really investigate everything personally. 

Because we now get green reporters, the obvious fact that the local paper is dying is all the sadder.  At one time green reporters could at least hope to move up the ranks in their local papers, maybe becoming editors or columnists if they stayed there, or they could move on, as they often did, to larger papers.  They still move on, but papers everywhere are dying.  Ironically, the only papers that still do fairly well are the genuine small town papers in small towns. That's good, but that can't be a career boosting job for those who enter it.  

And with the death of the paper the objectivity that they brought in, back in their golden era, which I'd place from the 1930s through 1990 or so, is dying with them.  People are going to electronic news, which so far hasn't shown that same dedication, although recently some online start-ups actually do.  Television news has become hopelessly shallow, fully dedicated to the "if it bleeds it leads" type of thinking, or fully partisan, telling people what they want to hear.  Really good reporting, and not all of it was really good, was pretty informative, which raised the level of the national intellect.  People might have hated reporters, and they often did, but they read what was being reported about Richard Nixon and Watergate or what was revealed in the Pentagon Papers and had a better understanding of it in spite of themselves.  That helped result in Republicans themselves operating to bring Richard Nixon down and society at large bringing an end to the Vietnam War.

Now, in contrast, we have electronic propaganda organs on the net that feed people exactly what they want to hear, and that often is the same thing that comes out of the back end of a cow.

Not overnight, of course. This has been going on for decades, and indeed in some ways it started with the first radio broadcasts.  But radio was easier to adjust to.  The internet, not so much.

The death of a career, an institution, and unfortunately, also our wider understanding.

Sic transit.

Moonlight Graham and other lessons. At some point, you are stuck in your career.

Archibald "Moonlight" Graham.

Maybe I don't watch enough television to catch them, or maybe the recent financial crises and the pandemic put the brakes on them, but there used to be a lot of financial planner advertisements based on the theme that you could retire into a new exciting career of some sort.  You know, you worked hard but invested wisely, and now you were a rancher in Monument Valley (where the locals probably regard you as an interloping menace).

M'eh.

Probably, the story of Archibald "Moonlight" Graham is more realistic.

Anyone who has watched Field Of Dreams is familiar with it.  Graham, we learn, played but a single season in the major leagues and got up to bat just once.  After that season, he chose to leave baseball, knowing, the film tells us, that he'd be sent back to the minor leagues, and he just couldn't stand the thought, so he opted to move on, pursuing a career instead of being a physician, an occupation that he occupied for over fifty years in Chisholm, Minnesota.

Graham was a real character, and really did play one season in the major leagues and really did go on to a very lengthy career as a physician in Chisholm, Minnesota.   The film, however, is centered on regrets, and Graham plays into that.

In the film, and presumably the book, the main protagonist is an Iowa farmer who starts hearing voices in his corn field.  At first, the voices have him build a baseball field, promising "if you build it, he will come". The "he" turns out to be Shoeless Joe Jackson, famously banned from baseball due to the 1919 Black Sox scandal.  Jackson brings in the Black Sox, who in turn start holding games against another ghostly team, given as they're all years past their deaths.  The voice returns and tells Kinsella, the farmer, to "ease his pain", which ends up taking him on a cross-country journey in which he picks up a self urban exiled urban author, Terrance Mann, and a trip to a ballgame, at which they see the statistics for Graham.  They go on to Chisholm, Minnesota, to find that he had died years earlier, only to find Kinsella nocturnally transported back to the early 1970s in which he encounters the elderly Graham, who in reality died in 1965.  Graham declines to go with Kinsella and Mann, noting that it would have been a tragedy if he'd only gotten "to be a doctor for one day", his having become so central to the lives of the town's residents.

But then, traveling back to Iowa the next day, they encounter a youthful hitchhiking Graham, who goes back to the field with them and plays on the team of ghosts, apparently actually in reality regretting his having been deprived of a major league career.

The entire move Field Of Dreams is about broken dreams.  It's all about regret.  Every character in the film is full of regrets.  Kinsella regrets having departed company with his father, a former professional ball player, on harsh terms and not getting to apologized before he dies.  Mann, a disenchanted author, regrets not having meaningful writing to carry on with.  Jackson regrets having been banned from baseball.  All of them feature redemption in the form of a second chance at redressing their regrets.

I love the movie, and always have, but it's a dark film in some ways.  Almost every single character in it, no matter how cheerful they are, and they're all cheerful, is laboring under monumental internal regrets.  They're provided a chance to banish the regret, but only through Devine intervention, allowing a redress across time.

Field Of Dreams isn't the only movie that deals with regret, and even Divine intervention, but it's the only one that I'm aware of in which average characters are plagued with it and can only address it in such an intervention.  The closest portrayal of a similar topic of which I'm aware is It's A Wonderful Life, in which the protagonist is about to kill himself after years of hard work at a saving and loan business he was basically forced into due to the untimely death of his father.  In that film, however, a hapless angel takes him back through the lives of everyone he touched to show him how much worse the lives of those he impacted would be had he not been there.  Mr. Holland's Opus is another work that has a similar theme, but with no Divine intervention, in which the dream of the protagonist is shattered by a personal tragedy, but his work, opus, becomes a huge impact on everyone around him.  I like both of those films as well, but not as much, and frankly find them dispiriting for all of the wrong reasons.¹ I probably shouldn't, as the message of both is profoundly Christian and, well, perhaps this below best expresses it.

A film that takes a distinctly different approach from either is Will Penny, which is a great film.  In that film circumstances show an aging single cowboy, who has worked his entire life in that role, what life would have been like had he married and had a family that cared about him.  Right up until the end of the film it seems that, now that the opportunity seems to be unfolding, he'll take it, but as it turns out, knowing that it has in reality passed him by, he regrets his decision, but determines to ride off and live with it.  It's just too late.

Which brings me to this observation.

Recently, or so it seems to me, once you are over 50, and truth be known at some point earlier than that, unless your big planned career change is one involving only self-employment and doesn't depend much on your physical health, you're pretty much stuck with what you are doing.

The first time that really became evident to me in any fashion, oddly enough, was when I was in my 30s and practicing law.  My late mother had a friend who grew up on a ranch and had always wanted to return to his former life.  He'd had a long career as a banker, but now, in his 70s, he was trying to return with what was really a hobby farm.  He wasn't well enough to do it, and his wife was crippled, so their location out of town was imperiling her health.  My mother, who was extremely intelligent but often based her assumptions about somebody based on externals, kept referencing him as a "rancher", which he wasn't.  He was still employed at the bank, and it was a hobby farm that was failing.

He moved off of it soon after my mother first referenced him in conversation, and died soon thereafter.

Why, other than that it's always been obvious to anyone who knows me that my internal vocation is one that involves animals and wild country, she pointed that out, I don't know.  Probably as she conceived of him as somebody who had combined a city job, banking, with a rural vocation, "ranching" (actually farming), he was, to her, a model of what I could do.  My mother was always proud of the fact that I'd become a lawyer and quick to tell anyone that, even though its something I never bring up myself and tend to reveal, to strangers, only if asked.  That probably concerned her some as she wondered why somebody who had obtained such an admirable, in her view, professional degree would want to do something that in her personal experience was of a lower status.²  The point was made, as it seemed to make sense to her that a person could pursue agriculture as a hobby while admirably employed in a profession.

I viewed the banker as somebody who'd led an existentially failed vocation, banking, and was trying to make amends too late.

That's a pretty harsh judgement, but I've always been sort of "no quarters" in my view of some things, including myself.  Now, some 30 years later, I could easily say the same thing about me, and be quite correct.  I've had a long and respected career as a lawyer, which has not involved animals whatsoever, or wild country.  I've also been a stockman for most of that time, which does.  But my being a stockman is sort of a second activity, made possible as my in laws are the full time stockmen, and I'm part-time.  I don't regard that as a personal success, but a personal failure. There's no two ways about it.

For all of my time as a lawyer, I've dreamed of being a judge. That's the sort of dream that's puts you in Moonlight Graham territory as chances are, you aren't going to make it.  I first tried to make that switch when I'd only been practicing a few years, at which time, unbeknownst to me, experienced lawyers regarded that as impossible as you needed experience.

Later on I had the experience and applied several times, and passed by some as well.  I passed by one as I knew that somebody putting in was so close to an influential figure that he'd get it, which he did.  I hope that figure realizes that, even now, he's indebted to an accident of employment for his current position.  

The time I first came pretty close, I nonetheless didn't make it to one of the three finalist.  A friend did.  It was surreal, however, as I received calls from those close to the process informing me I should expect to be one of the three finalists.  I received direct information that I'd interviewed very well.  When I didn't get it, and another position soon came up, I was called by a host of individuals who were within the system and urged to apply, which I had not intended to do.  I did, and didn't make the finals again.

Over time, I've watched the process and realized that politics, which weren't really evident to me early on, played very much a part.  One Governor in this time frame had an expressed preference for appointing women, as he thought the bench lacked them and needed them.  Over time, it became apparent that women stood a much better chance than men of getting appointed.  Well, he's the chooser, so I guess he gets to choose as he will.

The more recent Governor has favored very young appointees and ones who had criminal law experience.  I'm no longer young, I'll be 60 next month, and I don't have criminal law experience.  Nonetheless, I put in one last time when I was probably 58.  Totally pointless.

Since that time, I've awkwardly appeared in front of the very young judge.  That judge may turn out to be great, but the judge confessed that the hearing we were at was the first of the type the judge had ever experienced, and the judge wasn't quite sure what to do.  I'll give that judge credit for that.  Not everyone would admit that.

Well, at 60, I'm not putting in anymore.  I'd have to retire at 70, and I'd never get selected.  Oh, well.

I'm not the only one in that position.  At least one other friend of mine has the same experience.  Whenever we've talked about it, we always express it in an "oh well", we didn't expect to get it anyhow, and we still have our careers.  But frankly, in my case, it's another career failure.  I'll go to my grave as a lawyer knowing that whatever I achieved, I didn't achieve what I'd hoped to, long ago.

Sic transit Gloria Mundi.

Being almost 60, I'm at the age where law journals have articles that claim people like me can have exciting second careers.  What they always entail, however, is some lawyer who moved from litigation combat to telling his younger lawyers how to engage in litigation combat, or some lawyer who moved from a big first into one that his son or daughter has, to mentor them.  I guess that's sort of a second career, but it really isn't.  It's more like going from being the team manager to the pitching coach.  You are still showing up wearing pinstripes and a ball cap for the team.  And frankly for the overwhelming majority of lawyers in the current legal environment, where it's hard to find a younger lawyer to even hire, it's not realistic.

What's notable about those articles is nobody ever suggests that any of the lawyers that they reference really were able to make a radical shift in the field.  None of the Old Hands, for instance, went from practice to teaching.  They keep practicing. At most, you see some who went from litigation to transactional within their firms.

And that's about as realistic as that gets.  Not that such a transition is meaningless, a lawyer I knew personally who practiced into his 90s had done a similar thing at age 60, and just all of a sudden.  The same lawyer, however, had wanted to be a doctor but found his dreams dashed by World War Two, during which he served in the Navy.  Coming back, the lost years didn't leave him time, he felt, to do what he wanted to do.  Indeed, everything about his educational path changed.

What this does do, however, is point out the reinforcing nature of occupations over time.  When the ABA, for instance, runs articles about second careers for lawyers, it's acknowledging that lawyers are looking for second careers, and telling them to stuff it, they're lawyers.  Not that this is a surprise as after a person has been practicing for a while, and I'm sure this is true of every other occupation, you're defined in that role.  I've ridden up to cow camps on trail after having been in the field for days, dressed as a cow hand, and covered with grime, only to be identified as "oh, you're the lawyer".  People who know me only casually from work, when they want to chat, open up topics on legal themes, assuming, logically enough, that what I'd really like to do in the evening while enjoying a cocktail (or more likely a Saturday afternoon at the hardware store) is chat about the law.

Societal expectations, therefore, become reinforcing.  You may have a diesel mechanics certificate, but if your prospective employer finds out you're a 50-year-old lawyer, or 40-year-old lawyer, forget it.  You're not getting hired as a diesel mechanic.

Radical changes, unless, again, they involve self-employment, age out.  I knew one lawyer who became a partner in a small drilling company, but that was a species of self-employment backed by the fact that a collection of business associated had the money, along with him, to invest to start up.  Another who had worked for years in a bank, then entered private practice, did it only briefly before returning to the bank. The brief taste of practice was enough.  One I personally knew dropped out of practice to become a teacher, and one I sort of knew did the same, but they were in their 40s at the time, with time still being available to them to do that.  Probably in their 50s, they wouldn't have been hired.

As I mentioned outdoor professions, one thing I'll note is that the Federal ones have age caps, in some areas, the Federal Government being an employer that can still officially do that.  State ones don't tend to have official ones, but they do have unofficial ones.  Federal ones tend to be based on retirement.  If you can't make 20 years by 60, you aren't getting in.  

One that surprised me recently, quite frankly, was the Ukrainian Foreign Legion.  Its age cap is 55, which is pretty old actually for entering military service, but it's only taking veterans (and only combat veterans, it claims).  Ukrainians men are liable for military service up to age 60s, but Ukraine isn't taking in any old soldiers from other lands.  That probably makes sense, really, as you don't know these guys and can't really vet them much before they show up.  Some vets of other armies, such as my self, are in pretty good physical health and probably could endure a combat environment just fine (maybe), others have grown sick, tired or fat, and couldn't.  There's no point in investing in somebody, whose going to die of a heart attack one week out.

Still, it's interesting as there are so many Western army veterans who trained to fight the very army the Ukrainians are fighting, more or less.  We didn't, thank goodness, fight them in the 80s, and we're not going to be fighting them, it appears, now.

Interestingly, the Canadian Army takes in older enlistees now.  I don't know how old, but the cutoff age is something like 57 or 58.  But those enlistees have to make it through basic training in the Canadian Forces.  Apparently Canadian soldiers are part of the general Canadian government old age pension system, and the Canadian government figures they can get a couple of years out of any who make it through basic, which is probably about what they get out of an average enlistee anyway.

As we live in the age of certification, many jobs that were open to people 30 years ago, when I first started practicing law, have had the doors slammed shut if you don't have perfect certification.  I know of one such field that loosely interpreted its certification requirements 30 years ago and now very strictly construes them. 

Added to that, of course, is the impact of income and influence of disbelief.  A professional changing jobs may be enamored with the idea of it, but it's pretty likely that his family, most particularly his spouse, isn't.  That's also why most of the real changes, such as for example the instance I know of in which a lawyer became a fireman, happen pretty early in careers.  Most professionals don't make the loot that people think they do, particularly when they start out, unless they're recruited into a really high test outfit.  Indeed, the one fellow I know who fits that description looks so stressed all the time, I wouldn't be too surprised if his heart just burst out of his chest in a deposition, and he died on the spot.  For most younger lawyers/doctors/accountants, etc., they're not pulling in the big bucks early on.  At that point, obligations aside, they can make a change as they aren't going to be hurt on a day-to-day basis much.

Obligations, however, change options enormously.  Student debt keeps a lot of people in jobs as they have to pay for their educations.  By the time they have the debt paid off, chances are they have a family and a mortgage, and that keeps them in place.  Most spouses have a low tolerance for dropping family income enormously and while early on couples may endure hardships bounded together by true love, later on the spouse who isn't proposing to drop household income will regard it as insane, bound down by practicalities and perhaps duty to the offspring of the marriage.  Shakespeare claimed that "conscience does make cowards of us all", but debt and expenditures have a big role in that.

So too has the return to long family ties of the pre World War Two era and the insurance system of the post World War Two era.  Couple of the 50s, 60s and 70s pretty much saw their children blast into independence as soon as they were 18, and more than a few families didn't feel the slightest bit of guilt about basically kicking children out into the cold world once they were that age.  It was quite normal.  Now it isn't, but then it really wasn't before 1940 either.  Be that as it may, that has brought about a return to the situation in which the family bread winner retains some financial responsibility all the way into his kid's late 20s, which not only means late career, but it can be career extending, as people can't quite what they are otherwise doing.  I know that I wanted my father to retire when he hit 60, and he wouldn't.  But I'd been paying my own freight by that time, at least partially, for quite a while and knew that I could pull it all.

Or so I thought.  He probably didn't think that, making him an example of somebody who probably was looking at things just the way I do know, right up until he died at age 62, having never retired.

Insurance is another matter.  In the American system you can go on Medicare at age 65, but prior to that, health care is your own problem, and it's expensive.  It interestingly gets expensive for most people right about the time that you really need it for the second time in your life, the first time being when women are of child bearing years.  Switching from one job to another, where health insurance is covered in one, and isn't in another, is pretty hard for most people. Quite a few people keep on keeping on for years until they qualify for Medicare.⁴

And self-determination, which a lot of us aren't that good at, plays a major role.  You are always faced with decisions when they come up, and you make them, usually, on what is important right then.  Personally, the door did open for me to an outdoor career with an agency right after I had become engaged.  It involved a massive income drop and a very uncertain future, as it started off with a temporary position. The responsible thing to do, it seemed to me (and it would seem to most) was to forego it, which I did.

Twice wars came up after I had left the National Guard, and in both instances I tried to get in them.  That has something to do with being trained to fight.  In the first Gulf War I made contact right away with my old Guard unit, but it wasn't called up as it had just switched from heavy artillery to rocketry and wasn't combat ready.  The second time I contacted them as well, and then a Colorado infantry unit being deployed, but the first one wasn't called up, and the second one didn't need any artillerymen.  As the wars dragged on, it just didn't seem like there was a real reason to join, and I didn't.  The door, however, was open in that second instance and I didn't walk through it. At some point it slammed shut due to age, just has it has now for the Ukrainian forces.  Немає (no) you are too old, age cap at 55.  Будь ласка? (Please?).  Nope, but here's some equipment we need you can buy.  (Seriously, they suggested some sort of optical equipment, or a drone.  I dread to think how much a drone might cost).

And so, the lesson's learned?

Édith Piaf famously sang Je Ne Regrette Rien, but if you look at her life, I'll be she did, and plenty of them.  Not that she's a model of an average or even somewhat typical life.  Moonlight Graham probably is in many ways, which is probably why the character appeals so much.  Maybe everyone watching Field Of Dreams feels that way a little.  Maybe not, but I'll bet plenty identify with that character more than any other in the film.

I don't know if most men really lead lives of quiet desperation, but I do suspect that a lot of people highly respected in their careers have unresolved paths they didn't take.  That doesn't mean that they didn't enjoy their careers.  It may mean they have large or small reservations about the paths they took.  I can't even begin to count how many times clients and litigants have told me "I wanted to become a lawyer" (or, pretty often, "I wanted my son to become a lawyer"), followed by a "but".  I've known professionals who didn't follow up on professional sports opportunities, who had been in military service and then gotten out, who had left farms and ranches, or who had thought about becoming a Priest or cleric, and didn't, all to some element of regret.  Indeed, with big callings, like the Priesthood, it probably downright haunts them.³

For those who recall it, people may imagine themselves singing Je Ne Regrette Rien, or maybe the defiant My Way, but Truckin is probably more like it.

The other lesson may be that the common American claim that you can start off doing one thing, and do anything else, is a lie.  

If it's not an outright lie, it comes with an expiration date.  Once you are 50 years of age, you are doing what you are doing, most likely, and you won't be getting out of it any time soon, if ever.

And this:

Well, you know I... I never got to bat in the major leagues. I would have liked to have had that chance. Just once. To stare down a big league pitcher. To stare him down, and just as he goes into his windup, wink. Make him think you know something he doesn't. That's what I wish for. Chance to squint at a sky so blue that it hurts your eyes just to look at it. To feel the tingling in your arm as you connect with the ball. To run the bases - stretch a double into a triple, and flop face-first into third, wrap your arms around the bag. That's my wish, Ray Kinsella. That's my wish. And is there enough magic out there in the moonlight to make this dream come true?

Not without Divine intervention, there isn't.  And even as the movie portrays, decisions made in the past cannot be undone.  Graham reconciles it with 

Son, if I'd only gotten to be a doctor for five minutes... now that would have been a tragedy.

My wife sometimes makes the same point about my career, with "all the people you've helped".  But then, this too:

 We just don't recognize life's most significant moments while they're happening. Back then I thought, "Well, there'll be other days." I didn't realize that that was the only day.

Footnotes

1.  I'm afraid that I'm an oddity with some films this way.  Shane, the classic Western in which the protagonist comes back out of retirement in order that besieged farmers aren't run off by cattlemen, is an example.  I know how the film ends, but I always hope that the cattlemen will win, and the wilderness they represent preserved.

2. My mother was not from here, and didn't hold farmers and ranchers in low esteem, but rather held professionals in very high esteem.  Her family had members who had been doctors, lawyers and engineers and she regarded this as having achieved a certain status.  A lot of people of her generation viewed the professions that way, and frankly, quite a few people still do.

She also tended to view being a lawyer as proof of high intelligence, which it really is not.  A Democrat, she'd frequently give a reason to support President Obama as "he's intelligent. . . he's a lawyer".  President Obama is intelligent, and he is a lawyer, but in reality, there are lots of fairly dim lawyers.

3.  Indeed, that's one of the ones that's most openly expressed.  I've known lawyers who, once they know you fairly well, will discuss having been in the seminary, or who wanted to be Priests, and it's a different conversation.  It's always pretty clear that they're downright haunted by their change into the law, no matter how much success they may have had in it. Conversely, I've known one Priest who had been a lawyer and at least one who had originally intended to be, who had no regrets whatsoever about their change in paths.

Of interest here, there's often an age limit to attempting to revive a vocational call.  Canon Law in the Catholic Church sets no age limit to becoming a Priest, but many dioceses do, and for good reason. Training a Priest takes nearly a decade.  While I can think of stories of some "older" men becoming Priests, in reality, they were middle-aged men when they started off.

Likewise, there's a limit on trying to become a Catholic Deacon, a vocation that's spread enormously in recent decades.  In our Diocese, the provision is:

The minimum age for a single man to be ordained to the permanent diaconate is twenty-five (25) years old, and thirty-five (35) years for married men. Maximum age to enter the Diaconal Formation Program is fifty-five (55) years (age 60 at ordination), unless the Bishop allows an exception. 

Sixty is surprisingly late, quite frankly, and I wonder if this has been recently moved as I thought the age limit lower, although not much.  Be that as it may, I know this only because at one time our African Parish Priest sent out letters to several men whom he thought would be good Deacons.  I was one.  I was flattered by the letter but knew I wasn't called, but I did pray on it.  I'm not called, working on my own defects is a full time enough job as it is.

4. The combined impact of insurance and family responsibilities in the current era is enough, in and of itself, to quash a lot of late career transition dreams.  Before Medicare, many people are hard locked into careers due to the need to keep their insurance.  Changes in the law, over time, have also meant that parents pay for their adult children's insurance well into their 20s.  Changing careers that involve insurance disruption is darned near impossible for many people.

And it likley would be for me, after my health issues of last year and their carryover inot this year.

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These things I'd do differently, maybe. (Or maybe I really wouldn't).

How the heck does a person figure out what to do?