When I was in college, like many students, I spent much time pondering my career choices. It was the 1970s, and many of us felt pulled by the opposing forces of the idealism of the 1960s and the growing materialism of the current decade. My own thought processes about my vocation seemed to parallel the changing times. I entered college expecting to find some kind of career that would allow me to help people in need of some kind of help, and I left four years later to pursue a career in law. A number of personal developments during those four years contributed to my decision to become a lawyer, but none more than a short, handwritten letter from one of my uncles back home. His name was Angelo, but everyone knew him as "Ace." Like all of the children of my immigrant grandparents, Uncle Ace was a child of the depression. Growing up in the 1920s and 1930s, he and his brothers enlisted in the U.S. military and were stationed overseas during World War II. After returning h