When I was growing up, it didn’t happen very often, but every time there was a tornado warning, my dad would go outside and look toward the horizon where the tornado was supposed to be coming from. He wanted to see with his own eyes whether a funnel cloud was coming toward our house. There were a couple of occasions when everyone in our family went downstairs and stayed in the basement until it was safe to come up.
When I was 12 years old (1969), I experienced two events that changed the course of my life: I got my own paper route, and my mom drove me to the bank and opened a checking account in my name. The reason she opened the account was because she didn’t want the job of writing a check every week to the company that owned the newspaper, the Peoria Journal Star. When we got home from the bank, she taught me how to write checks. When the first bank statement arrived in the mail, she taught me how to reconcile the account.
Last week, a young woman hired me to represent her on a case in which she was injured when she was hit by a car. The incident occurred while she was walking to work. As she was walking on the shoulder of a road near the parking lot of a local business, a car suddenly darted out of the parking lot, crossed two lanes of traffic, and hit her. The front bumper of the car hit her on the right side of her knee, causing her to fall and hit her head on the ground.
When I was a boy growing up during the 1960s, it was hard for me to imagine how God could see, hear, and remember everything that happens in each person’s life. In religion class, we were told that in addition to God being able to see, hear, and remember everything, He also knows all our thoughts. While I had my doubts, I accepted as true the fact that our Creator possesses full knowledge of all our thoughts, words, and actions.
I have a client — I’ll call him John — who was recently injured when his pickup truck crashed into a car that pulled out in front of him on Knoxville Avenue in Peoria. The collision occurred on a weekday at about 4:45 p.m., near the intersection of Knoxville and McClure. John is a construction worker and was on his way home from work at the time of the collision.
The year was 1970. I was in the eighth grade at St. Mark’s school in Peoria. I remember the day like it was yesterday. One of my classmates — I’ll call him Paul — brought a Polaroid picture to school to show to his friends. Paul and I were the same age — 13 years old. The person in the picture was the girlfriend of Paul’s older brother. She and Paul’s brother were in high school. She was a student at Academy of Our Lady and Paul’s brother was a student at Spalding Institute.
I’m currently representing an elderly woman who was injured in an accident. When I met with her recently to discuss her case, she brought her nine-year-old grandson with her. After we were finished talking about her case, I asked her grandson what he wants to be when he grows up. He hesitated for a moment, and then his grandmother said, “Go ahead and tell him. He wants to be a YouTuber.”