I could tell you about my coworkers, who are crazysmart and kind and could work anywhere but all choose AVLF every day. When I started working here, there were 10 of us. Now there are more than 30 fulltime staff members. I have no doubt that soon there will be 40. It’s awe-inspiring.

AVLF’s staff and Board of Directors have worked hard to design the 2018 AVLF Annual Campaign – a comprehensive, year-round fundraising plan – not only to sustain our successes to the greatest extent possible, but also to enhance your experience as a supporter of our work. We plan to focus on the reasons why you trust AVLF, year after year, to improve the lives of Atlantans in need. 

It never even occurred to me that My Atlanta wasn’t the Atlanta: that my perception was limited by my footprints, which were guided by my privilege.

There are three weeks left for you to make someone’s 2017 bigger and brighter than it was. Call the power company and offer to pay a stranger’s bill. Buy a toy for a child whose parents are struggling to make ends meet. Donate to AVLF.

“In a time when our divided and divisive politics seem to permeate, and damage, the fabric of our lives in ways I have not experienced and would not have guessed possible, I am particularly glad to work at Atlanta Volunteer Lawyers Foundation.”

I think we can agree that physical abuse is bad. But absent that, at what point should we be concerned?

Today, as an attorney working on behalf of low-income clients facing housing instability, there is something sanitized about my profession and my persona.  When I meet with clients, I presume that I can access all kinds of personal information about them – but that they will not learn anything about me.  I am neutral, unmarked, The Professional – not a human being with personality quirks, and certainly not a human being with a first-hand experience of poverty. Perhaps attorneys have more in common with our clients than we are used to looking for.  And perhaps sharing those stories, forging those connections, is worth the risk of letting our professional masks drop.

This time of year can be a moment of excitement and trepidation – of opportunity and real challenges. With two young daughters at home, heading into Pre-K and 1st Grade, I understand this dynamic well. It is my role as a father that weighs heavily on my mind as I head to work each day. I am all too aware of the intersection of our housing and work children’s ability to go back to school ready to learn. 

We already miss Liz terribly – she was absolutely one-of-a-kind. The kind the legal community, and the larger community, needed more of, the kind of lawyer who made equal access to justice more than just a catch-phrase, and the kind of person that caused Judge Jane Barwick to write this about what her friend Liz Whipple taught her: “That one person, one curly-headed person, can make all others better. And heartbroken.“

Imagine that you have just been berated, beaten, and bloodied by your partner. Maybe it’s the first time. Maybe it’s the 51st time. It happened in front of your three children. You once conveyed some of what has been happening to friends and family, but they looked at you like you had to be exaggerating.

I started working at AVLF about three years ago. Five days into my employment, I was standing on the 16th floor of King & Spalding, watching in bewilderment as two people deftly constructed a 10-foot stiletto shoe out of hundreds of red balloons.

More often than I wish were true, people think of “pro bono legal services” as simply giving a poor person a free lawyer. But pro bono publico (usually shortened to pro bono) does not mean “free,” it means “for the public good.”