What are you waiting for?

One of the catchiest earworms recently has been Sofia Camara and her What are you waiting for (Universal Canada, 2024). It is likely about relationships and love, as with most pop music. Despite those persistent themes, I hear different messages in lyrics, and I find her lyrics compelling:

You know you gotta give it your all

And don't be afraid if you fall

You're only livin' once, so tell me

What are you, what are you waiting for?

On one of my long morning walks recently, this streamed. At the moment, I was coincidentally ruminating on some recent conversations about being a judge. The fact is that I am getting long in the tooth, and the day approaches when someone new will need to take on my role. As I peer about me, I realize that it is true for many judges, law firm owners, and long-time practitioners.

This is nothing new. Certainly, some pursue judicial jobs in their youth; I did. Those who do may find a career on the bench, reach their 30 years, and retire. 

But many see the judicial role as a way to give back to a system in which they have long grown, evolved, and prospered. They apply after many years and often storied careers in practice. The examples are easy to spot, such as Hon. Stephen Rosen, who came to the bench in 2010, after 36 years of practice, and spent a decade on the bench before retiring. These "capstone" examples are admirable.

That said, there is merit in a bench that includes multiple perspectives, and youth is one of those. I remember when I bought into electronic filing 20 years ago. I was met with incredulity, animosity, and ridicule. Most of that did not come from my generational peers but from the last generation, some of whom were threatened, challenged, and anxious about such a foundational change.

The upshot of all of this is my periodic conversations with lawyers in both the "give back" and the career mindsets. They are interested in exploring this role, curious, and yet cautious.

One recently expressed self-doubt, essentially: "I don't know if I would be good at it." That has bothered me and was perhaps why I was ruminating on my recent walk; "what are you waiting for?"

In an old movie, All the Right Stuff (Warner Brothers, 1983), Dennis Quaid portrayed Gordon Cooper, one of America's first astronauts. The movie presents two story lines in parallel narrative: the astronauts on one and the test pilots on the other. All were young, daring, and larger than life. The astronauts got lots of press, but the test pilots also made much history; they just did it a bit more quietly.

There is a scene in the movie when a reporter asks Astronaut Cooper, "Who's the best pilot you ever saw?" There is some poignancy to the scene. Cooper is initially introspective and ponderous seeming to think, reflect, and reference Chuck Yeager, one of the test pilots. But the press was persistent, impatient, and pressing. They seemed to want a quick soundbite.

Cooper senses that he is losing the reporter's attention and reiterates the question:

"Who was the best pilot I ever saw? Well, uh, you're lookin' at 'im."

Everyone in the litigation business likely has someone, similarly, that they admire, respect, and even emulate. Judges are not different. If you asked them, "Who was the best judge you ever saw?" you might get their rumination and reflection. They might start to tell you some anecdote or name a name. Or, you might get "Well, uh, you're lookin' at 'im" (or 'er).

The reader will likely be surprised that I think the second one is the best answer. Whoever has the bench at the moment, whatever their failings and faults, should honestly believe, "Well, uh, you're lookin' at 'im" (or 'er).

I do not suggest or support pomposity or hubris. I am not in favor of, or advocating for, self-delusion or conceit. But I am suggesting that there is a real path that can readily lead to the conclusion "Well, uh, you're lookin' at 'im" (or 'er). And that path is not about ignoring those you admire, respect, and emulate.

The path to honestly and accurately making that statement is simple—do not believe it. That seems a riddle, but read on. The "best judge" is the one who internally harbors self-doubt. It is the judge who learns every day and considers perspectives and perceptions carefully and intellectually.

The judge who knows in their heart that they are not yet "the best judge I ever saw" is, in fact, the person we need on the bench. They will listen carefully, ponder arduously, and struggle with arguments, interpretations, statutes, rules, and precedent. The judge who questions themself and strives each day to be better than the day before—that is the best judge I ever saw.

Back to Sofia Camara, in a nutshell:

You know you gotta give it your all

And don't be afraid if you fall

You're only livin' once, so tell me

What are you, what are you waiting for?

If you doubt yourself, I think you are exactly what is needed. Bring it, and let's perpetuate the Florida OJCC and all of its success over these last many years. I encourage you to think of this job, as I see retirements on the horizon. Whether you are young or old (for real or at heart), consider it. 

Judge Roesch used to say, "This is the best job I ever had." Judge Farrell used to say he would do this job for free. Judge Dietz had similar ruminations and thoughts. The fact is that it is hard to find any JCC that does not enjoy the work, appreciate the challenge, and welcome the role. Consider it.