I left the bench after a particularly difficult argument. It was Nov. 1, 2013. It was 5 p.m. I took off my robe. The end of a particularly long day. The end of a particularly long week. The end of a particularly long judicial career. After more than 30 years, I was actually retiring as a judge.
I hung up my robe and suddenly I had the urge to sit on my bench one last time. So, now robeless, I once again stepped out of the robing room, onto the dais, and into my ornate antique chair. I looked around the now silent courtroom and I expected to feel pangs of nostalgia or regret. But to my surprise, I didn’t. As I gazed at the many judicial portraits hanging around me, I felt a great sense of satisfaction. I joined the First Judicial District in 1984 to do a job and I did it. Now it was time to go. Maybe the court was a little bit better because I served there. I sincerely hoped so.
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