Quote of the Day - Seeing death as the end of life is like seeing the horizon as the end of the ocean.
Marilyn Jean Hampton, 75
Cape Cod, Massachusetts - My mother, Marilyn Jean Hampton, passed away on Sunday, April 20, 2008, at the Pleasant Bay Nursing and Rehabilitation Center in Brewster, attended by her family. She was 75. Marilyn was born on June 10, 1932, in Pittston, Pennsylvania, an only child to James Burton Walker and Leola Naomi Richardson Walker, where she lived with her parents in West Pittston. She attended West Pittston High School and graduated with high honors and a business diploma. She loved to watch baseball with her father, Jim. Her mother, Leola, taught her piano, and she took voice lessons as a child.
She was an accomplished piano player and soloist throughout her life, and she regularly sang in church choirs. She worked for a number of years following as a business secretary for state Senator Jack Sordoni, the president of Sordoni Construction Company in Wilkes Barre, Pennsylvania.
She was married to James Robert Williams on September 12, 1952, in West Pittston. Marilyn then worked as a secretary to Dean Vaughan Dabney at Andover Newton Theological Seminary in Boston, Massachusetts while her husband pursued a divinity degree. After his graduation in 1955, they took residency in Middleboro, Mass. where Marilyn served as a Youth Group and Youth Choir Director and church secretary at the First Congregational Church on the Green in Middleboro. They were noted for instituting a living Christmas crèche at the Church.
They moved in 1957 to Worcester, Mass., where they served at Lakeview Congregational Church and at Chaffin Congregational Church in Holden, Massachusetts, where Rev. Williams served both churches as minister. There they had three sons, J. Craig Williams, Todd T. Williams and Scott J. Williams. Marilyn taught Sunday School classes at both churches.
After their service in Worcester and Holden, the family moved back to West Pittston in 1965, where Rev. Williams served the First Congregational Church and Marilyn served as the Youth Choir Director. As a soprano, Marilyn frequently sung solos and duets with her father, Jim Walker, a bass. She wrote a weekly column for the town of West Pittston for the Pittston Gazette, a local newspaper. She also taught Sunday School at church and served as the Church Secretary.
The family then moved to Schuylkill Haven, Pennsylvania in 1971 to St. John's Reformed Congregational Church, where Marilyn sang in the Choir, taught Sunday School and served as a Church Secretary. Marilyn likewise wrote a weekly column for the local newspaper, The Call. She loved to watch football and learned the game from her two oldest sons, Craig and Todd, who played the sport in high school.
Reverend Williams then accepted a call to St. Stephen's Congregational Church in Harrisonburg, Virginia in 1976, where Marilyn again served as Church Secretary, sang in the Choir and taught Sunday School. Marilyn accepted a full-time position as secretary to Dr. Leotus Morrison, the Women's Athletic Director at James Madison University. She loved to listen to the local high school band, where her youngest son, Scott, played the trombone.
Marilyn then moved to Harwich, Massachusetts on Cape Cod in 1985, where Rev. Williams served as minister at the Harwich First Congregational Church. Marilyn accepted a full-time position as Church Secretary of the Church of the Holy Spirit, Episcopal, in Orleans, Mass., where she served for nearly 15 years. She brought several Scottish Terriers into her life named Heather, who were her devoted companions.
She later remarried Gordon Hampton and took up residence in South Harwich, where she continued to live the remainder of her life as a pious and temperate woman. She was dearly loved by her family and the multitude of friends she developed at various churches and towns where she had served over the years. She kept up an avid, handwritten correspondence with her many friends and enjoyed speaking on the telephone with those she was unable to write.
Marilyn Jean Walker Williams Hampton is survived by her three sons, Craig, Todd and Scott and Scott's wife, JoAnn, as well as a multitude of grandchildren, Michel J. Ayer, Dean R. Ayer, Julie J. Ayer Williams, Joshua Williams, Andrew Williams, Jonathan Williams, Matthew Williams, Sarah Williams and Jennifer Williams, and her two, later-in-life stepchildren Brian Hampton and Kim Hampton Palmer and Kim's husband, Jared, and their children, Jack and Katherine Palmer. She will be dearly missed by all who knew her and loved her.
Funeral services will be held at 1:00 p.m. this Friday, April 25, 2008, at the Church of the Holy Spirit, Episcopal, in Orleans, Cape Cod Massachusetts where her ashes will be interred in the church's columbarium alongside her devoted husband, Gordon Hampton.
MIPTC's Occasional Book Review: Debra Galant's Fear and Yoga In New Jersey
Let me state what is perhaps obvious here. I am not Jewish and I am not a woman. I am, however, a writer, and this author is a writer's writer. Those things said, Fear and Yoga In New Jersey is a must read, even if you are none of these things. You might even learn a few words.
You certainly will be entertained.
Debra Galant strikes at fear - fear of losing your job, fear of being labeled a terrorist, fear of social circles and soccer moms and their yoga classes in New Gyr-zee. She satirizes the New Jersey suburbs with reckless abandon and delivers a solid winner. Her son struggles with his Jewish heritage questioning whether to have a Bar Mitzvah, all while Mom has enrolled the family in the Unitarian Church.
It's these polar opposites, which have so much in common, that Galant delivers on a skewer in this crazy, twisted tale of suburbanhood. When you pick up your copy, buy an extra or two as a gift. Your friends will be glad you did.
Lawyer 2 Lawyer Internet Radio Takes Up The Pending Shield Law In Congress
The proposed federal Shield Law is pending in Congress. Meanwhile, reporters have come under fire for protecting the privacy of their sources resulting in jail time and high fines. Please join me and my fellow Law.com blogger and co-host Bob Ambrogi as we explore the shield law with the experts.
Click on the link below to listen to Lucy Dalglish, Executive Director of the Reporters Committee for Freedom of the Press, Geoffrey R. Stone, the Edward H. Levi Distinguished Service Professor at the University of Chicago Law School and Attorney Joel Kurtzberg, partner at the firm, Cahill Gordon & Reindel LLP. We discuss the federal shield law pending in Congress, high-profile shield law cases involving reporters, states' efforts to enact their own shield laws, punishment given to those who protect their sources and the rights of journalists.
Who's On First? The Polygamous Mess In A Texas Courtroom
The problem may be polyamorous, polygamous and polynumerous, but one court in San Angelo, Texas has got to sort it out, one by one, along with somewhere in the neighborhood of 416 lawyers, each representing a single child and with a guardian ad litem for each child. As most anyone who reads or watches the news knows by now, the children were removed earlier this week from the Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints ranch near El Dorado, Texas and placed into child protective services.
The problem(s) stem from allegations of physical, mental and sexual abuse of the children.
The court has set a (read that "a" as just one) hearing, and the Texas bar has requested volunteer lawyers from all over the state to appear pro bono to represent the children. No one lawyer can represent them all or in any combination given the innumerable conflicts of interest.
In fact, the parents need representation, too. Perhaps a parent or two or 208 (if you assume two parents for each child), or more, depending on however you may calculate children born of polygamous marriages.
Who's the Dad? Who's the Mom? Which child belongs to which Mom and which Dad? Only your DNA tester will know for sure, especially since even the children have provided the authorities multiple names for themselves and identified multiple parents. As if to compound the problem, the lawyers on their way to Coke County, where 51st District Court Judge Barbara Walther issued the warrant, don't even know who they're going to be representing.
In the meantime, there may not be enough lawyers to go around, but more important, there may not be enough courtroom to go around. Where do you put 416 lawyers, children, guardians and any number of parents who may appear?
How about an auditorium? Even then, what procedure do you follow?
Who speaks when? Who goes first? How long will the hearing take? I can't imagine even the logistics of where to seat everyone and how to handle objections? Since most, if not all of the children are underage, they're each entitled to their own privacy, so the court may not even be able to hold one mass hearing.
If that's the case, then where do you find 416 courtrooms?
One thing's for sure - the courts have to act in the best interest of the children, which is what the authorities who removed the children from the ranch thought they were doing. The consequences of those actions, however, may overwhelm the courts and achieve just the opposite result: justice delayed is justice denied.
Involved In A Suit? Here's Some Judicial Advice: Settle
What will come of the Harry Potter Leixcon that RDR Books wants to publish and JK Rowling's suit against the publisher and author Steven Vander Ark? It's a summary of the characters and events in the seven books Rowling wrote.
The issue is Rowling's copyright. Rowling and her publisher argue that her copyright prevents derivative works, such as the Lexicon. Vander Ark claims that Rowling's failure to issue a DMCA takedown notice is a waiver of her copyright. I've written about it before, and postulated that eventually the Lexicon will win.
The problem comes from that one word: eventually.
The judge hearing the case has urged the parties to settle the case because it addresses areas of American law that are not yet settled, which would cause years of appeals and further litigation.
In other words, it would be less expensive for the parties to settle and avoid years of litigation.
MIPTC's Travelogue: Prague, Czech Republic - Day 5, Part One
This post is the fifth and last in MIPTC's travel series to Prague, which started on April 5, if you're interested in reading from the beginning. Otherwise, jump in and travel along in this continuing day, from here to part five, below. Then it continues further on to separate preceding days back to April 5th.
Before the masquerade ball this evening, we need to run a few errands to pick up ribbon as an accoutrement for our costumes. Lisa will be dressed as a consort to Queen Elizabeth (that's the one in the 15th century, if you're wondering). I'm dressing as Lord somebody or other, and we've both got loose crosses that need something to suspend them around our necks. So, now that we know Prague like natives, we're off to Tesco Supermarket for the ribbon.
First things first, you know. Forget sightseeing. There are more important things in life to attend to.
This store has it all: from groceries to gabardine, and everything in between. It's got a section on hardware bits and pieces and automotive parts - even racy lingerie. What more could a man want?
Tesco's got every type of ribbon -- in several different colors, sizes and even with silver and gold threaded in it. We choose the purple and red to go with my regal costume. That's Regal with a capital "R," mind you, so we have to choose Royal (also with a capital "R") colors. Lisa's five-layer dress is moss green, gold and black, and is already stunning so there's not much more to add to it to make it more Royal (see how I remain consistent with the capitalization?). Or so I'm told, in yet another lesson toward my fashion consciousness.
Most color coordination of clothes is lost on me, as it is on most men. At least guys who are color blind have an excuse, as the lawyer sitting next to me as I write this post on the plane does. It's my former partner, Dan Callahan, who has his clothes numbered in a book to tell him what that his light blue shirt number 10 goes with what his bright green pants number 24 and his orange rep tie number 3, and so forth.
See what I mean? I've read his book and I still can't get it straight.
I, as I've pointed out, am not so lucky. I'm not color blind and therefore have no ready excuse. Without something like Dan's book to guide me, if left to my own devices, I'd suffer the scorn of those who frequently critique my questionable ability to match just about anything in my closet with anything else in my closet. Like most nobles, however, I'm glad to have someone dress me in the morning before I commit a fashion faux pas, and suffer the ignominy of one more citation and arrest by the fashion police as I try to walk out the door with my own concoction of mix-and-match clothes.
But I'm getting distracted.
We're finished at Tesco, which I've now learned is Prague's answer to Sears, Woolworth's, Sam's Club, Home Depot, Napa Auto Parts and Frederick's of Hollywood, all wrapped up in one store. What to do next? There's the Secret Society building to see, Mucha's Art nouveau Museum, the Powder Gate, innumerable churches and a couple of castles to see. Plus, I want to ride the underground to see what it's like. We've figured out for the most part how the highly efficient trolley system works. Most tourist maps of the city have red lines to depict where the trolleys run, superimposed with red numbers to identify the line. At each stop (readily identifiable by people milling about, constantly waiting for a trolley to arrive every eight minutes, thank you very much), there is a small paper-behind-glass list that coherently explains the schedule in a x/y format of military time and minutes after/before each hour.
MIPTC's Travelogue: Prague, Czech Republic - Day 5, Part Two
This post is the fifth (part two) in MIPTC's travel series, which started on April 5, if you're interested in reading from the beginning. Otherwise, jump in and travel along in this continuing day from part one, above.
Before we stroll through the rest of the city, I would be remiss if I failed to describe the utter beauty of last night's organ, oboe and opera performance at St. Francis of Assisi church, which is next to the Vltava river. It's a bit cold outside and as full-fledged and thoroughly thin-blooded Californians, we're bundled up to the gills. There's a ticket-taker outside the towering, semi-circular at the top and long down the side, red-leather covered in thick gold straps that form multiple diamond shapes in the doors, punctuated by a equally shiny gold button in the middle of each diamond. She charges us each 450 Korunas, or Crowns, about $3.00 at current exchange rates (which given the exchange rate last year would have been about $1.50).
Inside, I am awestruck with the pompous and ostentatious display of gargantuan paintings in the two side naves and back of the church, the brightly colored murals on every inch of the four-story high vaulted cathedral ceiling, the more than life-sized marble statutes littered throughout the church, a raised pulpit with its own "roof," decorated with a raft of smaller statues, that would have made even Billy Graham envious and the multi-level display of Christ's crucifixion splayed from wall to wall and floor to ceiling above the dark marble and gold-inlaid altar. Even the floor is a patterned mosaic worthy of an art gallery. Then there's the organ, certainly not out of place in this church, but much smaller than I would have anticipated given the rest of the architecture.
I am likewise struck remembering Judas' comment to Jesus about what Judas perceived as wasted money used by Mary Magdalene to pay for oil to anoint Jesus' feet. Judas argued that the money spent to purchase the oil should have been spent on the poor, to which Christ replied, "there will always be poor people in the world."
We're advised to sit in the church folding chairs situated to the left of the beautifully carved, ornate wooden pews in order to have a better view of the organ, organist and soloist (I was kidding about the opera part, but she's a soprano, and I wanted to take the opportunity to alliterate the words). Good advice, indeed, although any seat in the church requires you to crane your neck upward at a almost uncomfortable angle. Nonetheless, the music certainly does not disappoint. It is fit for a Pope, if he were there. The music is classical, and from Bach and Mozart, who obviously wrote for the three instruments in use during the concert. Despite all its production, the Easter Glory service at the Crystal Cathedral in Garden Grove, California can't even compare.
But again, I'm getting off track. I'm not making much progress toward this evening's masquerade ball.
MIPTC's Travelogue: Prague, Czech Republic - Day 5, Part Three
This post is the fifth in MIPTC's travel series (part three), which started on April 5, if you're interested in reading from the beginning. Otherwise, jump in and travel along in this continuing day from part two, above.
Before we get to the masquerade ball, however, we travel to the Secret Society building, which is nothing more than a pale green, non descript building in the middle of the block in the middle of Prague. It is not open, nor is it labeled or otherwise described. Without a guidebook, we are dumbstruck, unable to figure out its significance beyond a recommendation from a Czech friend in the US as something we should see. Thank God for the Internet.
Next, we're off to Powder Gate, which appears to be a large tower with more ornate and now black-with-soot statutes who hold various bright gold swords, crosses, papal crooks and sport radiant halos with stars above their heads, and the gold stands in stark contrast to the black backdrop of the Gate. Cars and trucks drive two-wide coming and going underneath the Gate, which is more like a freestanding tower, somewhat reminiscent of the short tunnel under the redwood tree in northern California, but certainly not as rural and much more imposing. Even so, the tree and the Gate are about as tall as one another, to add another perspective.
The underground is a long descent down a dizzyingly steep escalator, steep enough to stop us from walking down it, as we're prone to do in the US. We notice no one else walks down, either. Once in the bowels of the system, the signs are all in Czech quite unlike the signs topside. Immediately it becomes apparent: Prague is a walking city, and there's no real need for tourists to use the underground. It's really for the commuters. Undaunted and wanting to act like a native, we nevertheless plunge ahead. We're the only one holding a map of the city, betraying us as the non-natives we are.
The stops are all obviously foreign names and unintelligible to us who do not speak Czech or for that matter know how to get where we want to go. But after staring at the map and the names of the stops, it slowly dawns on us how to get back to Mala Strana, where we're staying just next to the U.S. Embassy (thankfully, that's the one with the recognizable flag on the map we're holding). It's the small things that help.
The yellow line boxy red and cream-colored trains speed into the station from the dark of the tube with two shining headlights signaling their arrival. We hop on the crowded train in the right direction, get out and walk up two flights of stairs to transfer at the Můstek station where the yellow line crosses to a green line silver train toward our destination. We dutifully listen to the formless woman speak the names of the stops in names we can't pronounce ourselves, but can thankfully understand given our map. Once we've passed under the ubiquitous Vltava river, it's then off at the correct stop and we're back up a less steep escalator to the sunny world above.
Once out of the netherworld, we realize too late that we've forgotten our errand to exchange some more money to pay our driver this evening. We walk back across a bridge over the river Vltava to the recommended money changer with the best rates in town, only to walk right past an underground stop next to our destination. So much for our self-congratulations for "figuring out" the underground.