Message from the Chair

• Citation: Vol. 29 No. 2
• Publication year: 2015
• Author: By Michael E. Whitaker

Message From the Chair

By Michael E. Whitaker

Michael E. Whitaker is a Judge of the Superior Court in and for the County of Los Angeles. Michael received his B.A., with Distinction, in Political Science from the University of Hawaii at Manoa, and obtained his J.D. from the University of Oregon, where he served as a Managing Editor for the Oregon Law Review. He also served on the City of Culver City Civil Service Commission from 2006-2014.

Find Your Piper

"Advice to a client is the hallmark of any lawyer. But the advice which comes from the heart and of her free will is moving."

There have been periods of my life when I have felt the need to contribute my time to worthy endeavors, or unworthy ones, as I look back on them in the rear-view mirror. The latest period, in which I am still toiling, has been the longest stretch. It also has been the most taxing. Yet the results have been the most rewarding, and I would not change a thing.

This current philanthropic period started in June 1998. What's so significant about this date in time? I'm glad you asked. In June of 1998, my partner and I bought our first single-family home. The impetus for me in agreeing to move out of our condo was my partner's assurance I could get a dog. I grew up with a dog and missed having one around. On the other hand, my partner did not, and saw no benefit to having an animal wreaking havoc on his sense of cleanliness and order. But wanting to live in a house clouded his judgment and, in a moment of weakness, he agreed to the yet-to-be-realized dog.

We spent the next year on the hunt for this elusive dog I wanted. Of course, each dog was flawed and not good enough for us. That dog was too big, that dog was too small, that dog was too loud, that dog was too needy. Every excuse imagined was crafted to thwart my efforts to find warmth and happiness from a four-legged friend. Then along came Ace. He was a rescue puppy, kind of grey and white. He was very sweet, but something was not quite right. He was not well and seemed to have a cold all the time, if dogs can get colds. It turned out he had distemper, and was unable to thrive among the living.

For a moment, I thought that it was not meant to be. The message was coming in loud and clear: stick to plants—they are easier to take care of! Yet that message wasn't for me because I have a knack for killing green, leafy things requiring water. And it definitely wasn't for me because only two weeks after Ace died, we received a call from a friend...