Recently, I was talking with someone at a New York law firm about settling a lawsuit. I was glad to learn an agreement seemed to be in place, but, predictably, there were “I’s” to be dotted and “T’s” to be crossed. From many years of practicing law, I know firsthand that the wheels of justice turn slowly. Indeed, this specific litigation has been years in the making.
In this instance, however, I am not one of the lawyers. As I think I’ve mentioned here, I am currently officially “inactive” with the bar. I use the qualifier “currently” advisedly, for while I can, in theory, return to active duty any time, each passing day says it won’t happen.
***
Recently, after Lola and I got home from Tucson, I called my buddy, Peter, who is a retired attorney. This means he has voluntarily surrendered his law license.
We initially met as defense lawyers back in the late nineteen-eighties, or early nineteen-nineties, in a notorious and exciting federal RICO case. The case was a career highlight. During the extended and lengthy litigation, Peter and I became fast friends.
Thinking back, I recall there were always groups of attorneys, including prosecutors, who occasionally would socialize after hours (despite being professional opponents in some cases). Mostly, we were just being cordial. On the other hand, befriending Peter had felt rare. Our connection was special.
Over time, we both changed career paths. Peter gave up criminal law and started working with a firm of civil lawyers. He was an expert on guardianship issues. I stopped taking criminal cases, too, as Eric and I transitioned our practice exclusively to civil rights matters. For me, the main change was that we now represented cops in civil matters, albeit sometimes cops who allegedly used their badges to commit crimes.
As for Peter and me, we communicated sporadically, but for long periods, we would not see one another. Meanwhile, Eric and I were busy and successful in our new endeavors. Lee and I were enjoying our marriage. The years passed quickly. My friendship with Peter inevitably suffered.
***
Lee and I began thinking seriously about our retirement, which would involve traveling to Central or South America, or elsewhere, for the Winter. Then, the rest of the time, we would enjoy life together at our city place or leafy Deer Tick Manor. At least that was the plan.
It was around this time that Lee started getting sick. She always recovered until she did not. The illnesses persisted, multiplied, and worsened. Lee died far too young.
Later, after the pandemic hysteria had subsided, I heard from a lawyer at Peter’s firm that Peter’s wife had been diagnosed with cancer, and I called him to offer comfort. It was our first conversation in a couple of years. Months later, this same lawyer told me that Susan had died. I gave Peter processing space, then I called him again. He was ready to reengage.
This happened a couple of years ago. I’m happy we have renewed our friendship, though it’s funny to consider how the untimely deaths of our spouses conspired to help make it happen.
