MY FIRST PIVOTAL MOMENT:

Now that I am not practicing law anymore, I have the opportunity to reflect and think about the things that happened during those 25+ years and consider whether I would have changed any of it if I could. Of course, there are always things that we wish had gone differently - that is the nature of practicing law - but there are moments that changed the course of my life that I would never want to change. The following is just one of those moments.

At 38 years old, and older than almost all of the people sitting around me, I was in an auditorium on the campus of the University of Oklahoma. I was going through orientation and preparing for my first year of law school. I sat there wondering why I had decided to put myself through this ordeal. I was married with two little kids, and I had a perfectly good job as a legal assistant in a great law firm. Was it really so important to be a lawyer? My mother had told me just before she died a few years earlier that I should be satisfied with the associate’s degree I had then and I should focus on raising my children. Maybe that is why it seemed so important. I had wanted to be a lawyer since I was about 12 years old. It just took me this long to get here. But there I was trying to listen to the speakers and looking for any older student I could find in what seemed like a sea of young faces. It was just then that I heard the words “American Indian Law Review”. I was immediately hooked. The history of Oklahoma and it’s connection to Indian tribes had fascinated me for quite some time. This was probably because growing up in south Arkansas I had never known a real live Indian. Well, that was about to change.

I immediately signed up to be on the American Indian Law Review and met several older students there. A few were tribal members even though they did not look any more Indian than I did. At the beginning of my second year, a 3L student, Carolyn, mentioned to me that Browning Pipestem was hiring new clerks at his firm. Mr. Pipestem, a local attorney, had spoken at the law school earlier in the year and I was so impressed. I recalled him saying he was half Osage and half Otoe or in other words FBI — “full blood Indian”. I called his office and got an appointment for a couple of days later. His office was close by the law school and I just knew this would be perfect. When I told Carolyn that I had the appointment, she said, “Well, don’t take it personally if he doesn’t hire you. He only hires Indian students.” She was clearly trying to warn me, but I took it as a challenge. “He will have to say that to my face!”, I said bravely.

I was not feeling too brave that following Thursday afternoon as I approached the door of the office. I had dressed in my best navy suit and cream-colored top, navy heels, diamond stud earrings, and of course, I had my resume in my navy portfolio. I hoped I was ready. But the door was locked, and the lights were out. I checked the time — 2:00 p.m. I was exactly on time. I was fearing that Carolyn was right after all, but as I turned to leave, a large Indian man rushed out of the elevator. He was wearing white shorts and a red polo shirt. I think we were both surprised! He immediately apologized for the door being locked and his late arrival. He invited me in and we spoke for about 30 minutes about why I wanted to be a lawyer, why I wanted to be on the American Indian Law Review, and what kind of mentor I thought I needed and how he saw himself helping in that regard. There were no questions about my Indian-ness or lack thereof. He then asked if I knew where the county courthouse was. Yes, of course I did. “Well, then, you are hired. Can you start right now?”, he asked. I said yes. And so it began.

Browning had been practicing law for 23 years when we met. He was well-known in Indian country and had represented many different tribes all over the United States. The Tenth Circuit as well as the U.S. Supreme Court would call on him whenever they needed an expert voice for difficult sovereignty issues. We appeared together, and sometimes separate, in small tribal courts in Oklahoma where we might be the only English speaker in the room other than the interpreter, to the United States Supreme Court and every court in between. We appeared together once at the Oklahoma Worker’s Compensation Court in Oklahoma City. As we stood outside the courtroom waiting on our clients, both in our black suits and brief cases in hand, the Judge came out and asked if we were waiting on our lawyer! I was rather insulted, but Browning laughed so hard he had to sit down. Looking back, I guess that was pretty funny.

In our years together, we drafted all kinds of tribal codes and statutes for Indian Tribes all over the United States. Most notably, we originated tax codes that allow tribes to issue their own license plates, and civil and criminal codes that established tribal courts. We believed wholeheartedly that Indian tribes were sovereign entities with the ability to self-govern themselves. We were constantly working toward that end. Browning always encouraged me to take my own clients as well. I had many divorce clients, juvenile cases, and a few adoption matters during that time. Browning was always there to have my back if any issues became big problems. Browning and I worked together for eight years until his death in 1999. I learned a vast amount from Browning in that short amount of time and I know I became a better lawyer because of that experience.

My life changed directions for the better on that Thursday in September 1991, and I am forever thankful for it.

What was your pivotal moment in your life? Let me know either here or on the Common Sense Divorce Facebook page. I would love to hear from you.