I surrendered! And I celebrated alone
A chance discovery in Niagara on the Lake
When I learned on Jan 27 the Law Society of Ontario had agreed to the surrender of my licence to practise, I knew I needed to celebrate the moment. And I also knew that celebration would be a solo one, a bookend to the solo celebration of being called to the bar in 2006.
Some might think to celebrate, by definition, includes others. There have been occasions in my life when I thought that too. I think, for example, of the party Jack and I threw in 2016, marking the end of his gruelling cancer treatment, our elopement, five years of living together, my 50th birthday, and his 65th. Those moments required a crowd and I was thrilled so many were keen to come.
Celebrating the transitions from one career to another, though, are personal moments, the result of priority-setting, heavy thinking about next steps, and plotting how to get there.
I think back to a day in July 2006 which began backstage at Roy Thomson Hall (RTH), home to the Toronto Symphony Orchestra, waiting to fulfil the ritual necessary to practise law by becoming a licensee of Law Society of Upper Canada (as it was then known). There I was, costumed in my black robe and waistcoat, white shirt with tabs, and a black skirt and shoes. I was joined first by the other early birds and then the on-time people, and then a few stragglers (how did they get through law school, I wondered?). Unlike many with a life-long dream, I’d decided to go to law school just five summers before. I had no strong desire to be a lawyer but I’d chosen the degree because the non-profit sector, where I’d been working, needed skilled people. Law seemed a good choice. (Going to school in one of Canada’s most beautiful and liveable cities, Victoria, seemed pretty good too!)
I returned to Toronto to article at Iler Campbell LLP, a law firm for those who want to make the world a little bit better. When the time came to file into the seats at RTH, I scanned the gathered supporters for my guests: the firm’s cofounder, Brian Iler, who hired me to stay on after articling; and my parents, who’d made the trek into the city in their late 70s. They were old hat at ritual watching, having seen me receive three degrees.
The ‘call ceremony’ included plenty of unison declarations from the hundreds of robed people and followed by a trail of us across the stage to receive congratulatory hand-shakes from the Treasurer of LSUC. Aside from the thrilling moment when I stood at the spot where the principal cellist of the TSO sits (I was an amateur cello-player at the time), and the stirring address from Clayton Ruby, a leading progressive barrister, it didn’t do much for me.
I enjoyed lunch afterwards with Mom, Dad, and Brian, at Jamie Kennedy’s restaurant on the Esplanade. But I was even happier to hop in my car after lunch, bound for St. Anne’s Spa, two hours east on the 401. There, I donned a white robe, and enjoyed two days of solo time, treatments and eating fine, healthy food.
From black robes to white, followed by a 17 year career developing my own niche serving the co-op housing sector.
Fast forward to December 31, 2022 when I left the firm and two months later started working for the Co-operative Housing Federation of Toronto.
The Law Society of Ontario (as it’s now known), exacts $1000/year from ‘non-practising lawyers,’ in case one day the urge or the need to practise strikes. For two years, I paid it, an insurance premium in case didn’t work out. What if I need to go back to law?
Late in 2024, I gave my head a shake. When, in my nearly six decades, have I ever ‘gone back’ to something? So, before close of business on Christmas Eve, I hit “send” on the application to surrender my licence — Merry Christmas to me. Another solo moment to mark an important milestone.
When I got the news that the Law Society had accepted my surrender and I was free of the title “lawyer (non-practising),” I immediately checked out the St. Anne’s website. Can’t afford it now — I’m no longer a lawyer!
I found a reasonable substitute though — the Oban Inn in Niagara on the Lake had a good off-season rate. I enjoyed two days on my own in early February, celebrating with a meal the first night involving two things I’ve not had in a very long time: a vodka martini and a sirloin steak. More than that though I revelled in the moment, knowing this was the point of full transition from one career to another.
Never once did I think it would be better with company.
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