In the corner of my office is a camel-coloured litigation bag.
Freckled with dark splashes, its sides both stiff from good
workmanship and slightly sagging from over-use, you can almost hear
the stories pouring from the briefs that once filled it.
The litigation bag is not mine. I mean, it is now. I rescued it
when it was cast aside by its previous owner, one Earl Cherniak,
who perhaps is not quite as sentimental as I am about such things.
(And perhaps he has had more than one old litigation bag in his 60+
year career.) I mean, in this age of electronic briefs and rolling
carts, maybe a great advocate no longer needs a great litigation
bag to carry their stories in. Or even a great pen to write them
all down.
