On May 23, 2013, the 1,400-member National Council of the Boy Scouts of America (BSA) voted in favor of a resolution to add the following language to the requirements for being a Boy Scout: “No youth may be denied membership in the Boy Scouts of America on the basis of sexual orientation or preference alone.” The resolution passed by a wide margin, with 61.5 percent voting in favor of the change and 38.5 percent voting in opposition. The new requirement will be binding on all councils and units when it goes into effect January 1, 2014.
Last month, I stopped at Schnucks in Peoria to purchase a couple of items. After I left the store, I drove alongside the curb in front of the store toward Glen Avenue. The weather was warm and there were a lot of people walking near the area where I was driving. After stopping at one of the small stop signs between Schnucks and Bed Bath & Beyond, I proceeded forward.
On the Saturday before Easter in 1969, I picked up the telephone and dialed the number for my Uncle Tony Couri’s house. At that time, I was 11 years old. I wanted to ask my cousin Gene Couri, who was the same age as I was, if his family was planning to go to our grandparents’ house for Easter. Gene and I shared the same grandparents, Tom and Effie Williams, and they had invited their children and grandchildren to join them for dinner on Easter Sunday.
After starting my own law practice in 1983, the first lawyer who hired me to help him with some of his client files was Raymond (Ray) Rose, a well-known Peoria injury and malpractice trial attorney. In addition to paying me to work on his files, Ray taught me the fundamentals of how to handle clients, question witnesses, conduct depositions, and prepare cases for trial.
There was a period of time in the mid-1990s when Georgette was homeschooling five of our children at the same time, all of whom were at different grade levels. During that time, she was also taking care of our two youngest children, who were not yet in school. Because she was so overwhelmed, we had several conversations about putting some or all of our children in the school system.
A couple of weeks ago I published an article in which I discussed organ donation and two incidents involving individuals who found themselves in a position where they had to make decisions concerning ending the lives of family members who had been declared brain-dead. If you didn’t have a chance to read the article, you can find it here.
About six years ago on a Thursday morning around 10 o’clock, I got a phone call from Georgette. At the time, I was at my office. She told me that a man we both knew was on life support at one of the local hospitals. He was in his 60s and had gone in for surgery earlier that morning. Something went wrong during the surgery, and he had stopped breathing. The surgical team was able to bring him back to life, but his wife and children were told that he was “brain dead.” The only thing keeping him alive was a ventilator (a breathing machine).
Although I like the Internet and most of its features and benefits, when it comes to sending and receiving communications of any substance, I hate email. I long for the good old days (20 years ago) when people wrote real letters, folded them up, placed them in envelopes addressed to the intended recipients, and mailed them.
Earlier this year, one of my daughters was standing in the hallway of a local school visiting with a small group of girls. The ages of the girls ranged from 14 to 20. As they were talking, a 19-year-old boy they all knew came walking toward them. (For purposes of this discussion, I’m going to call him James.) As James approached, he said to the girls, “Step aside, bitches.”