I wrote just last week about the upcoming Ideas Issue of Arizona Attorney Magazine. But something told me I should write about it again.

And when I say “something told me,” I mean along the lines of an eerie occurrence.

This past weekend, I was taking some stuff to Goodwill. My wife already had done the difficult work of sorting, sifting and discarding items from our overfed garage. And then all I had to do was drive my Conestoga wagon of a car to the donation site.

As I drove, I was thinking about a few of our upcoming issues. Like editors everywhere, I was worrying over the question of how to get good quality content for free; everyone does, indeed, love volunteer writers.

And among the various feature articles still to be written, the Ideas Issue was front of mind. For it not only asked lawyers to contribute, but to do so (1) concisely and (2) wittily. How much blood can you get from a stone, anyway?

Would lawyers submit their ideas? Could I cajole them into sharing what may be out-of-the-box concepts with their fellows?

As I explained last week:

Have you ever said, “There ought to be a law” (or a policy, or a regulation)? An upcoming issue of Arizona Attorney Magazine will give you the chance to share your thought—in the “Ideas Issue.”

If you can do that in about 200 words, you’ll have our undying love (and your words and byline printed in our award-winning magazine, but I know you’re all about the love).

Anyway, back to Goodwill.

As I helped the staff unload the car and deposit everything in the correct bins, something caught my eye. Amidst the riot of trashy bits that littered the parking lot, why a small tablet of wood jumped out at me is a mystery. But there, next to my foot, was a tiny honey-colored rectangle. On it was printed a simple “I” in the noteworthy script of a Scrabble tile. And that’s exactly what it was.

I stooped to pick it up, thinking first about the pronoun, and how appropriate it is that the I (as in Me) is worth only 1 point. Clearly, the I must be combined with others to have much value.

And then I remembered how much I had been possessed by my own I(deas) demon that day. The donation worker looked a bit perturbed at my suddenly cockeyed smile, but I just pocketed the piece and climbed into my unladen car.

I’m not particularly given to investing much credence in signs and symbols. But that little tablet urged me toward another collegial try.

Get beyond the I, you Arizona lawyers. Share your thoughts with others. You may be happy you did.

Post your Ideas here or send them to arizona.attorney@azbar.org. And submit soon. Time’s a ’wasting.