Roots of Humble Beginnings
Smells of Hard Work and Family Bonds
Growing up in a small town, the smell of second-hand smoke wasn’t just an odor; it was a reminder of the dust, smoke, and grease that permeated our lives. It was the aroma of hard work that defined my upbringing. My father, a logger and truck driver like many in our community, was the embodiment of humility, kindness, and unwavering dedication. His grueling 10-12-hour workdays and extended stays in logging camps forged a strong work ethic in our family. As my two brothers and I toiled on our farm in his absence, we missed him dearly, especially when challenges arose.
Scars of the Forest
The Price of Dangerous Work
In a world where logging ranks among the most perilous occupations, my father’s appearance tells the story. His pronounced limp, scars on his hands and face, missing and replaced teeth – all battle scars from work-related injuries. The dangers of logging are not confined to statistics; they are etched into the very fabric of our lives.
From Boots to Dress Shoes
A Journey from Home to Salt Lake City
Today, I find myself in Salt Lake City, a world away from my hometown. I work in an office, adorned with a comfortable chair and a custom desk, dressed in slacks and dress shoes, a far cry from the boots and jeans of my youth. Occasionally, I grapple with feelings of betraying my upbringing, questioning if I made the right choice, as my life feels alien to me. I long for the days of logging, firewood cutting, limb bucking, and farm work. I yearn for the camaraderie of hardworking, salt-of-the-earth individuals who shape the world through their sweat and determination – my people.
Blood, Sweat, and Tears
A Commitment to Real People and Real Problems
Ultimately, I know I made the right decision in becoming a lawyer. I don’t represent silk-stocking corporate entities or insurance defense sell-outs. Instead, I champion real people with genuine issues. I stand up for those who sacrifice their bodies for their employers’ prosperity. My clients aren’t just clients; they’re family. I match their blood, sweat, and tears with my own because when I sit across from a client, I see my father. I recall moments when he couldn’t work due to injuries and neighbors who lost their lives or limbs on the job.
Professional Credentials and Associations
