When I first met Justice Blackmun, he was 83 years old. I was interviewing to be his law clerk, and he warned me that he could die soon. I should know that going in. He wanted me to understand the risks. What a peculiar statement, I thought. I did not really understand what he was telling me until much later.

As part of his chambers for just one year, I would be welcomed into a warm and sustaining family. I would join him and my co-clerks each morning for breakfast. We would celebrate birthdays and anniversaries, and I could return for visits as often as I liked. No matter how busy he was, he would never send any one of us away. He would worry about us and be proud of us and be there for us. But he could die soon. And I should know that going in.

He tried to tell me, but I did not listen. It was impossible to know Justice Blackmun well and not love him and become attached to him. He must have seen that losing him would hurt terribly, but he was powerless to protect us from it, other than to warn us ahead of time.

One spring morning during my clerkship, the Justice observed after breakfast that it was a beautiful day outside. He announced that we would spend the morning walking amongst the cherry blossoms at the tidal basin, and off we went. The blossoms were lush and pink and the sky was a deep and cloudless blue. The delicate wind and the cawing of birds reminded me of Jones Beach days as a child. I could feel the time slipping away like sand.

I wish so much that I could have had one last breakfast with the compassionate and gentle man we called “Mr. Justice.” Every moment with him was precious, and I will cherish his memory always.

Throughout his life, Harry Blackmun worked hard. As a young man in Minnesota, he studied to win a scholarship to Harvard. In college, he worked while attending classes, graduated with honors, and went on to Harvard Law School. His youthful habits followed him the rest of his life. As a Justice in his 70s, his day began early; he arrived at the Court before 8:00 a.m. and joined his clerks for breakfast. Almost every day, he worked through lunch in his private office. At 5:00 p.m., he took an exercise break, but returned to his Chambers for more reading and research. According to Mrs. Blackmun, once he arrived at home, he worked until she rang a bell signaling a 10-minute warning prior to dinner. After dinner, he was back at the briefs for the next day's cases, sometimes reading while watching a football game with the sound turned off. On the weekends, he worked what the rest of us would consider a normal work schedule.

Harry Blackmun set high standards for himself and those who worked with him. His clerks often joke about the grammatical corrections he made on their bench memos and his insistence upon avoiding mistakes in diction. These small personality traits reflected his dedication to do the very best he could at every job he undertook. He diligently worked to read every brief, to examine every cited case, to reply appropriately to letters written to him, and to deliver speeches that would have meaning for each audience he addressed.

Harry Blackmun was concerned about his fellow human beings. He was not a gregarious backslapper. But he examined his cases to take into account how they affected the every day lives of his fellow human beings. At breakfast at the Supreme Court, he was quick with a warm and quiet smile for Court personnel, passing acquaintances, and curious tourists. Upon the birth or adoption of a child, each clerk received a letter of congratulation from Justice Blackmun, a keepsake for the next generation.

Harry Blackmun did not assume that he had all the answers. His hard work was a reflection of the fact that he believed he needed to master the precedents, the legislative or constitutional history, and the facts to decide what the outcome of a case should be. He listened to other Justices, and he was willing to rethink his positions.

And it is certainly true, as has often been said, that Harry Blackmun was humble. Justice Blackmun was President Nixon's third choice after two nominees failed in the Senate, and observers frequently note that he called himself "Old Number 3." He was not merely disarming his listeners with self-effacing modesty. He was pointing out that he had risen to this office through an unlikely sequence of events. He treated his work as a Justice as an unexpected treasure. His humility led him to work even harder to honor the office he had the privilege to hold.

When we were beginning our careers, we law clerks were excited to have the chance to work with a Supreme Court Justice. Hard work, high standards, concern for fellow human beings, and humility are desirable qualities in a Justice, but they are also the values of a good and decent person. In the end, we know that we had the privilege to work around a fine man.