As much as I learned from the judge the heavy demands of the profession, the far more important lesson I learned was what a model jurist looks like. In the way Judge Doyne went about his work, day in and day out, in chambers and on the bench, he taught me how a diligent, capable, moral and respectful lawyer should conduct himself as an attorney privileged to be a part of any bar, not just in the state of New Jersey. That Judge Doyne oversaw his cases capably there is little doubt, but what made the judge exemplary was much more than how he dispensed justice. In his diligence to review every submission made to the court, in the fairness he bestowed upon every litigant and in the respect he showed to every attorney who appeared before him, he exhibited the best of what the judiciary has to offer. I am now in a field of law as far away from litigation as a lawyer can be, but in how I am to conduct myself as an attorney, Judge Doyne will always serve as my model.
As a movie based on a broadway musical, “Jersey Boys” (2014) avoids two traps that other movie musicals fall into: casting actors who have the name recognition but not the singing capabilities and lack of scale that puts to waste the unlimited spacial possibilities of films on screen.
I grew up in the wonderful state of New Jersey. It is a source of great pride for me, but for reasons I’ll never truly understand, my source of pride seems to be an international embarrassment for most people.
Mocked as the “Armpit of America” by many Americans, the views of foreigners about the State of New Jersey aren’t too much more flattering. An Argentine colleague-friend thought New Jersey was a dump that smells, having only been to Newark Liberty International Airport, which is actually in Elizabeth. For a Japanese friend, the image of New Jersey is encapsulated by Hoboken because he rode a train to there once. The suggestion that Newark, Elizabeth and Hoboken epitomize New Jersey is borderline offensive. The state’s nickname is “The Garden State,” which people will realize is not a misnomer if they bothered to drive south down the New Jersey Turnpike beyond exit 8A.
People have a nasty impression not just of the place but the people, particularly women. Upon learning that I was moving to New Jersey, my uncle shared the following joke:
“What’s the difference between garbage and girls from Jersey?”
“Garbage gets picked up.”
My life consists of obsessions and it’s no different with music. When I buy new music, I listen to it over and over (and over and over) again until it is playing in my head and driving me insane. I then find the next music to obsess about. Because of this, many of the songs I listen to bring back a particular memory–fond and not so fond–of different moments of my life.
(Original in English) During my high school senior year college application process, a teacher advised me not to go to school in the South. “You’re Asian and you’re Catholic,” he warned, inferring neither is particularly welcome down in the land of the Dixie. I dutifully complied, with my most southern