Order in the Court

I’m on level ground again after an emotional weekend. Ron and I flew halfway across the country to celebrate my judge’s 20 year appointment to the bench. Walking into the courthouse, a surge of old memories rushed up inside me. I kept oscillating between tears and laughter.

I loved being a judicial law clerk. It’s a 12 month gig that allows recent law school graduates to research the issues in the cases on the judge’s docket and help the judge make rulings and write orders. Judges usually have two law clerks at a time, and the cases – which are all numbered – are divided between them. I was the “even” clerk and my co-clerk, Shawn, was the “odd” clerk.

Standing in the formal courtroom, I saw the counselor tables (complete with new technology that wasn’t there eight years ago), the jury box (14 chairs for 12 jurors and two alternates), the witness stand, and the bench (where the judge sits). Above the bench there was the seal of the United States District Court. At that moment, I wanted to practice law again really badly.

The desire is still bubbling around a bit, but I’m sure it’s temporary. Because what I actually want is something impossible. I want to go back in time. I want to clerk for my judge again with the exact same group of people in his chambers, from the secretary to the U.S. marshals to the court reporter. I know that can’t happen. And I know I’m on the correct career path as a writer. But it was fun to take a trip down memory lane. And to realize how drafting all those orders helped me today (they sharpened my writing skills).