Upon my arrival at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, I was consumed by excitement. As a young officer, I relished the present moment, not contemplating a life beyond my role. However, my perspective shifted when my friend, Tanjela, posed a straightforward question: "What's your next step?" Initially, I pondered why further action was necessary. Tanjela, though, demanded more than a mere response—she sought a detailed plan. She challenged me to articulate my aspirations. While I had considered paths like medical or law school, the timeline and steps remained hazy. Tanjela insisted that I act immediately, sparing future discussions. Within a year, I left the military, enrolling in Florida State University's law school.
After law school and a stint at a firm, I encountered crossroads. My wife, Carroll, presented two options: pursue promotion or start a law firm. Urgency underlined her counsel, dismissing promotion prospects. Her stance propelled me to initiate my own practice, a venture spanning nine years.
Amid running my firm, I often trained with my karate instructor, Master Anne Radke. During one session, she envisioned me as a judge, an uncharted territory for me. Her assertion defied my perception, similar to law school and my law firm. Though I couldn't fathom it, her words proved prophetic. Years later, my law practice concluded as I assumed the role of a judge, which I've fulfilled for nearly seven years.
In hindsight, a profound truth emerges: others perceive us differently. My mother frequently reminded me of this notion. Be it my karate mentor, wife, or close friend, I'm grateful for those who envisioned my potential beyond my own sight. Their unwavering encouragement curbed my tendency to settle.
Oftentimes, I marvel at my journey's unexpected trajectory. Gratitude fills me, knowing that supportive individuals guided me toward unanticipated achievements. Their vocal belief in my potential shaped my present reality.
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