I worked for Dan many years ago, the summer after I graduated law school and awaited my Bar exam results. Dan had that timeless cool quality: that easy smile and that tall frame, the balanced gait of the athlete that he was. I met him and wanted to be like him before I could even articulate why. He listened. He smiled at you, and meant it. He silently conveyed himself as a man who held joy in his heart for the life he lived and the family he had. He also showed me how, in a profession of people paid to speak over each other, a studied silence punctuated by logic and a few thoughtful words will fill a courtroom. When that summer ended and I said my goodbyes to him and his staff, he gave me a framed photograph he had taken years earlier, of a statued figure that stood atop an old courthouse in Charlevoix. He knew I admired this photo. He took it off of his office wall and handed it to me. For your own office, he said. The courthouse statue in the photo was of the Lady of Justice--blindfolded, holding the scales. He had taken the photo at an angle, giving the visual impression that Justice is tilted. It took me many years before I figured out that the perspective he had photographed was deliberate, and meaningful: that justice can appear skewed, until you tilt your own head and do what you can to help restore that balance in the Universe. And this is something he did, a viewpoint that he lived, through the volunteer work, the many, many people he helped and mentored. A simple but powerful justice, mediated through his time to his family, to his friends, to his community. I have that photo hanging in my office still. He was a good man. He was my friend. I will miss him.