A LOVE STORY

by Joseph Shaub, JD

The first time I met her, it was about six months after her daddy had died and it was her fourth birthday.  The impression that sticks in my mind to this day, some 3 ½ years later, is that she was a bundle of life-force energy.  My earliest memory of her was of sitting in the living room with her mom as we listened to her in the tub putting her day - and her little mind’s meanderings - to song.  Ever since that time, I have loved being close to her - just to soak up that joy at being alive.  Whenever she writes about herself she starts off with, “My name is Elizabeth, but people call me Betsy.” 

She’s our Betsy - our precious child. 

When she hears good news - we’re going to Disneyland or she can have a Fudgesicle - she’ll utter an enthused “Yesssss” that never fails to tickle me and her mom.  Her stuffed dog, “Henry” is a pillar of our household.  His ears used to be so long that people thought he was a rabbit, but after eight years of having those ears rip off and get sewn back on, Henry has lost about ½ of his hearing.  He is, without a doubt, the most raggedy-ass thing you’ll ever see and his smell will stop you in your tracks.  The only time I ever heard of Betsy having a tantrum was when her mother couldn’t stand it any more and put him through a wash cycle.  His black felt nose has long since become a white dot of plastic and his fur is so worn away that I expect to catch him up late at night watching infomercials on hair transplants.  I once made the incredible faux-pas of asking Betsy if I could take a bunch of pictures of Henry in different settings so that she could always remember him the way he was today - since he’s getting worn out.  The stricken look on her face upon hearing that Henry wouldn’t be here, just like he is now, forever, made me back off that idea pronto.

I love the way this child’s big cheeks turn all pink when she’s out in the cold, or has been playing hard....the way she has a fashion sense that continually puts jeans-wearing me and her mom to shame....the absolute release in her laughter which is the very sound of abandonment to delight.  I remember watching her race up the street to flag down the ice cream truck last summer, a dollar clutched in her hand and turning to her mom and saying, “Bets does “kid” great, doesn’t she?”  She is one of the easiest people I have ever been around and I treasure the knowledge that I will be there to watch her grow and mature from a great kid into a wonderful woman.  But as for now, well, to pass by her door at night and to see her and our 10-month old labrador retriever molded together on her bed fast asleep - I just become overwhelmed with their gift of sweetness.

So meanwhile, here I am trying to build a family law representation and mediation practice from scratch.  Even though I’ve been a lawyer since ‘74, I’ve only been up here since ‘95 and opened my office about three years ago.  It’s getting traction, but it takes work....and time.  There are plenty of occasions that a project can be so engrossing that the world fades away and there is just no way I can leave the office.  I try to keep these demands under control and for the most part, I’m pretty successful.  The trade-off, of course, is a little slower growth, but if I didn’t make time for hanging out and helping with homework or standing on the sideline watching Betsy and a bunch of other 7 year old girls buzzing like a bunch of little bees around a soccer ball or seeing that blessed tableau of child and puppy fast asleep, I’d become brittle.  I have no question that the work I do, and the service I provide, would suffer. 

So I had this interesting internal conflict about two months ago.  A soccer dad had invited Betsy and me to join their Indian Princesses group.  There was a weekend gathering of dads and daughters at Camp Orkila.  We were all set and scheduled to go.

 Then, of course, on the day we were supposed to leave on this three-day weekend, I got completely hooked into a project that consumed the morning.  I began to feel very backed up and extremely stressed.  Then, this little voice sounded in my head (“You can go out there tomorrow...if you can’t go at all because of work, you’ll make it up to Betsy....anyway, she’s never been to Orkila, she won’t know what she’s missing...etc.etc”).  The self-talk relaxed me for a moment - but it only took a snap of time to realize that this just wasn’t a serious option and I would have to find a way to separate myself from my practice and get the heck out of there.  I was pressured and I was pissed.  For a while I resented Betsy taking me away from work I felt I had to do.

 I got home and I must admit I was irritable.  The feeling faded pretty much by the time we were on the ferry going over to Orcas Island.  I have a very distinct memory of being down at the beach that evening taking in the sunset, digging my toes into the sand, watching these little girls cavorting up and down the waterline and thinking that the office seemed a very long time ago. 

If I had found a way to back out of that weekend, I would have missed tucking Betsy and Henry into her sleeping bag on the bunk above me those two nights; seeing the pride on her face when she raced up the climbing wall so fast that the adults whooped and applauded; nosing around a tide-pool with a bunch of other girls and dads - Betsy periodically yelling excitedly, “Joe, look at this!” when one of the guys turned over a big rock and exposed a crab family or a humongous sea star; figuring out how in the world you teach a seven-year old how to shoot a bow and arrow (believe me its not as easy as you’d think) or the campfire the last night when she cuddled up inside my jacket with me to escape the unbelievably sharp wind that was cutting up off the water. 

It’s been two months since that weekend and looking back on it, I am sure that we bonded over that time in a way that stays with us to this day. 

I find it funny that I sit here and write these columns talking about bringing our humanity to the practice of law and balancing our lives and still, I’ve got to kick myself in the butt sometimes in order to walk that talk.  It is so easy to get pulled into work - as if by a gravitational force.  This force does exist, I am convinced, and is comprised of various parts of simple inertia; the feeling that when you’re into it, the practice of law is easy and straightforward, as far as expectations are concerned, and the demands of partners and clients who view us only (in the words of my law school comrades, circa 1971) as  “high speed legal tools.”