I often call my children by the wrong names, and if not for the fact that I am a creature of habit, I probably would not be able to tell you where I was last Wednesday night. I can tell you, though, where I was 16 years ago almost to this day…and even what I was wearing. I was in a conference room in Des Moines, Iowa, being interviewed by about a dozen people whom I had never met. I had donned my best outfit (black with tiny white flowers) and my grandmother’s pearls, and I was sitting down waiting for that dreaded question whose answer I could not yet articulate.

The interview did not start out with the tough question; first I was lobbed some easy ones. “What do you like least about the law?” Torts and clients who do not tell the truth. “What’s the toughest case you have handled so far?” A fiasco involving the Attorney General’s office, a small inheritance, and several adult siblings all named for plants. But the inevitable question finally came, “Why do you want to work for Legal Services Corporation of Iowa?” I clutched the pearls and sighed. I knew it was coming, and I had combed my brain for a good interview answer. But I did not have one. The truth was, working for legal services is all I had ever wanted to do, the reason I went to law school. I had no idea then why that was the case. Despite the fact that I lacked the ability to delve into the perversities of my psyche on this point, I was hired.

Now it is 2004 and again I am asked, “Why do you work for legal aid?” Fortunately, this time I have a career’s worth of memories to help me find the words.

When I signed on at Iowa Legal Aid*, I never expected that I would become the “veterans attorney.” Back then, the attorney doing most of the work on behalf of veterans told me not to worry, as benefits decisions by the Department of Veterans Affairs were not subject to judicial review. There was no pesky record to worry about, no rules to learn. Advocates just made their best argument and that was that. Of course, that all changed when the Veterans Judicial Review Act of 1988 passed into law.

The Act did not change the fact that many veterans still could not get an attorney to represent them at administrative hearings because of the $10 limit on attorney’s fees imposed by the Department of Veterans Affairs. That limit was set shortly after the Civil War to prevent unscrupulous lawyers from taking advantage of returning veterans. Unfortunately, the fee limit has remained in place even after the passage of the Veterans Judicial Review Act. The $10 limit has prevented many present-day veterans from securing representation at agency hearings, where an attorney usually can do the most good. Therefore, it often falls to legal services to help these men and women stake their claims.

I began working for legal aid in Iowa 16 years ago as a realist. I knew that the pay was lousy and that the clients would often not be able, or inclined, to express gratitude. I knew that by the time clients reached my office they were most often desperate, frustrated, and scared. But with rare exceptions, veterans are different. They are very grateful and even protective of me. They are patient, kind, and wise. I have come to find that I love and respect them more than I ever thought possible.

One of my first big cases before the VA was brought on behalf of Sarah. She was a recent widow who came to me a month after her husband’s suicide, and she wept for much of the time we worked to get his VA claim for post-traumatic stress disorder approved posthumously. Sarah had more dignity than I have seen before or since. She and her son, Terry, were genuinely more interested in making sure her husband’s story was told than in recovering a financial reward. Sarah’s perseverance made it possible for the family to get benefits, and she and her son both used the money to go to school. Sarah got advanced degrees in art and rehabilitation, while Terry attended a community college. Terry served in the Army for a few years and now is raising a family in Minnesota. Sarah works with the families of individuals who have suffered brain injuries.

Soon after that case I met Theo, who served in the Army Rangers during Vietnam. Theo was quiet and respectful. He stood 6 feet 4 inches tall and maintained his military posture and haircut for the four years we worked together. Theo had one of the worst cases of posttraumatic stress disorder I had witnessed, the result of having done reconnaissance deep behind enemy lines in Vietnam. Theo was so gentle by nature that he could not stand the possibility that he might accidentally hurt someone, which is why, upon his return from the war, he went to live near a small lake in Iowa where there was no chance he would lash out at someone during an “episode.” The difficulty with Theo’s case, as with most others of its kind, was in proving that his stressor actually happened. I remember standing next to Theo at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall, painstakingly looking through each name until Theo recognized the man he had known as “Slim,” who had died standing next to Theo during a reconnaissance mission. Sadly, Theo himself died two years ago. I still miss him very much.

Sometimes, I am fortunate enough to have a client who stays in my life as a friend once the case is over, clients like Joyce, who was in the Air Force and worked on the staffs of various generals. She developed breast cancer after leaving the service, though it was missed during her early mammograms, forcing her to undergo two blistering rounds of radiation and chemotherapy. Joyce literally lost her home and her middle-class lifestyle during her struggle but never her determination or her fierce sense of humor. Joyce is a survivor, and I am proud to call her my friend.

Lung cancer claimed the life of Harry, who passed away before the VA recognized his claim for exposure to Agent Orange. Harry served two tours of duty in two different branches of the military. He was older than most of my veteran clients. Because of the work he did near helicopters, Harry was legally deaf and we had to shout at each other on the phone to be understood. Because of our work at Iowa Legal Aid, the VA expedited its decision to grant benefits to Harry’s widow. It is rewarding to me, because I know there was nothing weighing more heavily on Harry’s mind.

Just as important as “why” I work in legal aid is “how” I have been able to do this work for so many years. The answer starts with my family. My husband has made it possible by getting home far earlier than I do and preparing dinner every night. He has contributed his paycheck faithfully. And he has tolerated the work I bring home and the second jobs we’ve both had to take to support our girls and my financially unrewarding vocation. During my first decade at Iowa Legal Aid, half of my paycheck went to student loans, the other half to child care. For 13 years, my husband stayed with the job that he first took in order to get me through law school just to keep everyone reasonably fed and clothed. I am very beholden. I can work for legal aid because I have three brilliant, kind, and quirky daughters. They dye our poodle pink to make me laugh and give me perspective when I am tired and overwhelmed by the constant stream of desperate need I see every day. They are tolerant of my foibles and the constant fundraisers. I can work for legal aid because my parents have never traded in their cars when the time comes to buy a new one but instead have kindly donated them to me.

I can stay at legal aid because of the people with whom I am privileged to work. I am employed by an organization with a board of directors that tirelessly seeks new sources of funding and has managed to keep our program free from layoffs. This leaves us all able to concentrate on our clients rather than on funding. Everyone at Iowa Legal Aid is indebted to the Interest on Lawyers Trust Accounts Commission, the Governor, the state legislature, various United Way agencies, and hundreds of individual donors who have kept us afloat as an organization. I stay because my colleagues are the most dedicated, meticulous, funny, and patient group of people I know. I can succeed at legal aid because of the local legal community and the other agencies and organizations that also care about my clients. I can succeed because of the judges who treat our clients with courtesy and concern and who treat Iowa Legal Aid with a real appreciation of the challenges we face. I can succeed because of the volunteer attorneys in Iowa City, Burlington, Washing­ton, and Muscatine who answer our pro bono pleas with “Of course we will help.” I can succeed because of the bar leaders who donate countless hours and cheerful commitment to the mission of legal services for the poor. I can succeed because of the cooperation and compassion that I find for my clients at schools, child support agencies, veterans organizations, and hospitals.

Some memories never fade. It has been 16 years since I sat in that interview chair. Ask me today why I’d want to do this for a living, and my answer would be much easier to put into words. I work for legal aid because my veterans need me, my colleagues inspire me, and my family is always there for me. I am honored that I have had the opportunity to learn what I instinctively knew so many years ago.

*Legal Services Corporation of Iowa and the Legal Aid Society of Polk County Merged to form Iowa Legal Aid on Jan. 1, 2003.