My 500 Words

Charlotte Whitney, or her attorneys, made the same mistake as many defendants who have been accused of a crime. She failed to bring up possible reasons that she shouldn’t have been charged, or convicted of a crime, when she had her trial. When the United States Supreme Court got her case, it was too late for them to make up facts that were probably true, but had never been established during the trial that ended in her conviction. Miss Whitney was a political activist and in 1919 she found herself in the middle of an emotionally-laden debate and crackdown surround the evils of socialism and communism. California had passed a law prohibiting what it called criminal syndicalism. By associating with and helping to form the Communist Labor Party of California, Ms. Whitney violated the law and was convicted. The question that justified her appeal to the United States Supreme Court asked if the California law violated a federal question, specifically the rights that allow for freedom of spee...

The stress level of the day had grown with each new tab Grayson opened on his browser window. The research spiral continued to grow wider instead of narrowing toward a refined consensus. Legal research seldom ends up in a neatly-tied package all wrapped up with a bow. But after a while the authorities begin to repeat themselves and the essential arguments that frame the possible outcomes tend to emerge. Today the common convergence escaped any meaningful structure as each jurisdiction and opinion seemed to fragment every cogent thought put forth in the previous decision. Grayson found himself swimming in an ocean of jurisprudential confusion and he wasn’t wearing a life jacket. He could feel his brain drowning in an intellectual soup in which Eris would take great pride. Grayson’s one hope for relief was to catch up with his friends, something he had neglected as he spent extended hours at the office for the past several weeks. He took his chances and opened another tab and typed ...

A few years ago I heard a report about the role of hate on relationships. I still remember the assertion that people form stronger bonds when they share hatred than when they share an interest. Last year I was watching an episode of Shark Tank and an app developer, Brendan Alper, pitched a dating app that linked people based on their shared dislikes rather than their mutual interest and hobbies.This app identified things users hate. The app runs an algorithm to match mutual dislikes and voila!, recommended connections appear. In the process of selling the sharks, he mentioned what seemed to be the same research that I had heard about the role of hate. I have struggled to comprehend how people could get behind and support a person like Donald Trump to serve as the President of the United States of America. The thought continues to be anathema. As I have observed life in America from my vantage point, I have found comfort and support with those who espouse that same emotion about Trump...

Is the consumption of alcohol wrong? Evidence promotes benefits of alcohol as well as revealing its dangers. You have addiction on one hand and bonds of friendship on the other. Yet we either promote the benefits or decry the evils of drinking. We have seen carnage caused by driving while intoxicated yet celebrated momentous occasions with the tip of a glass. So is it wrong? For me the answer is simple because I’m different. I have made a covenant to abstain from alcohol use. Yet, even if my church lifted the ban on alcohol use, I would still abstain. My family history includes problems with alcohol abuse and I recognize personal tendencies that correspond with addiction. I abstain, because I don’t dare risk what I might become if I go there. Today, my community is grappling with a choice regarding a proposed law to allow medical marijuana. Some oppose this law because they see it as something that will introduce something inherently bad into the community under the guise of promoting ...

I logged onto Facebook anticipating a peek into the lives of my family and friends. Just a little glimpse to maintain a sense of connectedness that real life hinders. It’s just that it takes too much time to touch base with everyone who causes your heart to beat a little faster and your face to smile a little more. I marvel at the power of social media that allows a few words, or an image, to reach hundred, thousands and sometimes even millions with the press of a button or a click of a mouse. So here we are, living in separate towns, states and even countries, looking at the same posts and pages. The commonality of our shared experience gets us on the same page despite the distance. The miles melt away as electrons disperse and light up our screens, filling our eyes and minds with the colors, sounds and tastes of life. Soon, those lives become an open book for everyone to see. Much of the mystery of who we are fades as we direct a spotlight on our very selves. All of this in th...

In junior high school, one of my math teachers convinced ten or twelve of us to learn some simple computing in an optional after-school club using an Atari system. We had to learn some BASIC programing language and we got to design some of our own games. Most of us started by writing programs that would quiz kids on math facts. I wrote programs to practice addition, subtraction, multiplication and division. It was cool to write the code and then see it come to life, especially when someone else actually played your program. I finished the club with a group project where we programmed a bouncing ball breakout-style game with sound. Lacking an outlet to practice those nascent computing skills I missed any opportunity to be an early creator of computer software, instead I became an early adopter and consumer. I was delighted when my parents got us an in-home computer. I’m embarrassed to say that I don’t even remember the name of the computer manufacturer. I do remember that when we bo...

Like a previously owned car, if it’s better than what you had before it really is new to you. You can know that someone else used to drive the car and call it her own, but those facts shouldn’t stand in the way of your enjoyment. It might take a little time, a few road trips and perhaps a dent in the fender, but sooner or later you can not only call it your own, it will feel like it was always yours. My dad was born in Canada and most of my grandparents were either born or lived there. All of my dad’s siblings made their homes in Canada and my two oldest siblings were also born there. But my mom and dad moved back down to the states and settled near my maternal relatives. The combination of having fourteen siblings and my father working in jobs that earned enough for our needs, but not very much in ways of extras meant that we didn’t get to see our Canadian cousins as often as we liked. The trips we did make stand out in my mind and rank amongst the best of childhood times. Some...