My 500 Words

How much money would have to be at stake before I would go to court against relatives to make sure that I received some share of those assets? Today I read an opinion from my state Supreme Court that reinstated an order declaring a woman to be the common law spouse of her now deceased husband. This decision will affect how the assets of his estate are distributed and will have a negative effect on how much money the other relatives will now receive, if any. Although the opinion provided certain details about the litigation, the justices were careful to protect private information about the size of the assets in the estate in question. I did not recognize the names of the litigants as prominent individuals so I really have no idea whether these people were fighting over tens of thousands or millions of dollars. Because of the wide range of the unknown I found myself looking for a number that would lead me into a court battle against my family over money. But these questions are rarely

There isn’t much that separates me from the cars when I am traveling down the road, even though most of my route has a dedicated bicycle lane. While that may conjure images of a dedicated and improved trail, it really means that there is a three foot painted path immediately next to the flow of traffic. So one strip of paint is all that protects me from potential collisions. I find a testament to excellent driving by most travelers in the fact that I don’t usually even experience what I would consider close calls during my 1.5 to 2 hours on the road every day. That thin white line seems to do its job and it keeps me safe. Then there are days like today. While pedaling along a stretch of road, I started to coast as I approached a red traffic light. At the same time a car drifted into the bicycle lane and barely missed me. I don’t think the driver even knows what she did because she was busy reading a magazine. Yes, this driver was the poster child of multi-tasking drivers. She pres

Walking into the jewelry store with my soon-to-be wife, I imagined that we were about to find the perfect engagement ring. I thought that this was going to be a chance to find a ring that would both match her personality and show her and the whole world how excited I was that she had agreed to marry me. We started to look through the display case and my attention was quickly drawn to the largest and most elaborate diamond settings that I could afford, and maybe a little bit more. I recall the salesman mentioning some ratio of how much I was supposed to spend based on my yearly salary. My girlfriend seemed to be listening to the conversation but hadn't shown a lot of interest in any specific ring. I suggested that she try on a few of the larger diamonds. As she put each of them on her finger I was dazzled by the anticipation that soon the two of us would be married. Yet one by one I could see that she wasn't won over by any of the diamonds or the settings. We talked about how

I have lived a spoiled and privileged life, almost by accident. At 16, I decided it was time to get a job. But I saw two challenges that limited my prospects.  I didn't have a driver license and I didn't have my own car. Together these issues limited the scope of where I would look for employment. To my teenage mind, my job needed to be close enough to walk. So one Saturday morning my brother dropped me off at the nearest fast food restaurant along a local street lined with Skippers, McDonald's, Wendy's and more. When I walked into the first restaurant I approached the counter and requested a job application. The manager handed me the sheet of paper and invited me to take a seat and fill it out. Only then did I realize that I had nothing with me to actually fill out the document. The man smiled at me and said, "When you come to apply for a job, young man, you need to be prepared. That means bring your own pen."  He invited me to come back as soon as I was re

When the lock of the third door echoed around me the whole of my being knew that I was in prison. I double and triple checked to make certain that my visitor identification was securely attached as I visualized scenarios that somehow I would be unable to leave. Since that first visit I have entered numerous jails and prisons and, while mitigated, an element of that irrational fear remains. Twice this week I have visited a detention facility and current events caused me to reflect on my perception of a prison. In recent months, my state's government has studied and commented upon potential sites to relocate the principal state prison. The relocation committee has identified numerous communities as possibilities to build this proposed facility. It comes as no surprise that I have yet to see a community speak in favor of having a prison in their neighborhood, city or county. If the commission finds a place in my community that satisfies their requirements for a prison, let me just s