September 15, 2004: The Good Neighbor

When I wrote about our neighbor next door with the amazing horticulture skills, I should have also mentioned our other neighbor who lives a couple houses up the street. This neighbor, our resident gardening expert, maintains the best manicured lawn on our steet. Every weekend, when it’s not raining, we’ll see him pushing his wheelbarrow, or clipping his hedges, and--of course--mowing his lawn. Sometimes he mows the lawns of the other neighbors, one of whom, my wife and I have confirmed, is now his girlfriend. Several weeks before we learned this news, he washed the siding of this woman’s house, which, of course, raised our suspicions because why would anyone want to wash the siding of anyone’s house, much less his own? But I digress.

I like this neighbor, and so do my wife and son. When sees us, he’ll greet us with a sincere hello and smile. Then we’ll usually have a little conversation. Last week, he trimmed some of the empty lot next door without our asking. When I told him how much I appreciated his efforts, he shrugged off my compliment. He loves working outdoors, and the neighbors appreciate having him in the community.

This past Sunday, when our family returned from visiting Melanie’s parents, my wife noticed someone lying in a ditch next to a lawnmower perched on the street. It was our gardening expert. My wife called to him, and he replied that he was fine. But when I found him, he had cuts on his head and nose, and could not speak clearly. He was disoriented, and couldn’t tell how long he had been in the ditch. He couldn’t even offer any account of how his accident happened. My wife called the paramedics. When they arrived, our neighbor was able to provide his name, the name of the President of the United States, and his date of birth. Then the paramedics helped him to his feet, and he walked toward the doorway of another neighbor’s house. He was still dazed.

I spoke with several of our other neighbors, who had now arrived to provide help, which included towels and water for him. One of the other neighbors is a nurse, and she took off his shoes, and fanned him with a newsletter I had retrieved from our mailbox a few minutes earlier. None of us could determine how this man--who is an active and seemingly healthy person--could have injured himself.

After the ambulance arrived, I returned home. Twenty minutes or so later, one of the neighbors rang our doorbell. She told us he had refused medical treatment at the hospital. None of us could understand that decision. So I went back to our neighbor’s house to check on him.

I rang his doorbell. He invited me inside the house. It was immaculate. “Just like his yard,” I thought. When I asked him what was going on, he responded, “You tell me.” I then asked him who was winning the baseball game on television. The Braves were pounding the Expos by seven runs. “You tell me,” he responded again. And he still couldn’t tell me how the accident happened. Now I was really worried. We both stared at each other, and after a few minutes of awkward pleas from me to seek help, I left.

Melanie and I decided that we should impress upon our neighbor that he really needed to seek medical treatment. He didn’t listen to me, I told my wife. We decided that my wife would make a Jello cheesecake for him, which we would deliver after dinner. We would also take Seth with us.

Six p.m. arrived, and Melanie, Seth and I coursed up the hill to his house. When Seth walks with us, he often pauses to inspect the various twigs and other debris on our path. This time, however, Seth did not inspect the road, and we reached the house quickly. I was more apprehensive about my second visit because I knew that our appeal to our neighbor to seek treatment would not persuade him.

My prediction, unfortunately, proved correct. Seth pitched a mini-fit, and our resident gardening expert still did not offer his usual ebullient remarks. The visit left Melanie and me more worried about his condition, so we decided to visit another neighbor--one who we believed could successfully urge him to get medical help.

The other neighbor had also tried--and failed--to convince him to go to the emergency room. And the man’s girlfriend couldn’t get him to go either.

The next day, I called our injured neighbor at lunch time to check on him. He still didn’t sound well, and did not report for work. Somebody had visited him, however. Our neighbor thanked me again for helping him, and I hung up the phone. I was disappointed.

Later that evening, when I took the trash out, I saw several of the neighbors who had assisted with the rescue. They told me that our favorite gardening expert had, in fact, reported to the hospital for various tests.

Hopefully, all is well with our neighbor. It will be awhile, however, before either one of us wants to mow the grass.

September 9, 2004: The Sword Is Mightier Than The Pen

I’m a lawyer. Lawyers solve problems. If someone has a problem, a lawyer researches the law, reviews the facts, and devises a plan to solve the legal dilemma. Sometimes this means the lawyer files a legal action for a client, which if successful, will result in a remedy for the client. Or--as we lawyers are wont to say--at least in theory the client should receive a remedy when the parties resolve their dispute.

But what happens when a party refuses to honor a jury verdict or a negotiated settlement? “Ah,” as the Bard would say, “Now there’s the rub.”

Imagine an outcome where the successful litigant, an injured worker, for example, will receive a sum of money payable by a certain date. The date for payment of the proceeds is due, but, alas, no check arrives at your office. A day passes, but there is still no check. And then it’s a week, and your client, who relied on the prompt payment of the proceeds, still doesn’t have the funds. So you, the lawyer, call the other lawyer, and gently remind him that, although you understand these delays occur, that doesn’t absolve his client of the obligation to honor the settlement. The other lawyer politely responds that he understands your client’s situation, and, yes, he’ll do everything he can to deliver the check to your office. When will that be, you ask him. I don’t know, he replies, and yes, he’s really sorry, I mean really he is, but he can’t give you the exact date. Wednesday, you suggest, is it possible to have the proceeds by Wednesday, because on Friday it will be three weeks since payment was due, and you’re willing to forgive a couple days’ delay, but it’s really, really hard for you to understand how it can possibly take this long for his client to deliver the check, especially when you told him to have the check available when the parties resolved the case last month, and don’t forget that your client keeps calling you and asking about the settlement check, and what are you supposed to tell him when he calls. Yes, yes, he knows, he understands, he sees, he’ll do everything he can, but he cannot possibly, under any circumstances, provide an definite date, or an iron clad date, or any date certain for when you’ll receive the check because if he did, he’d suffer further embarrassment, and he has sufficient egg on his face now, please, please understand, please, and maybe he’ll have the check this Friday. Ok. Fine. Then the check will arrive on Friday, you say, and he says Friday, and you say talk to you later, and as he says bye you hear him hang up his phone.

Friday arrives, and you watch the clock. At noon, you ask the receptionist if any check has arrived for you. No, it hasn’t she tells you, you’ve asked me this three times this morning, and why do you keep asking me this? I told you, you tell her, and please let me know when it does arrive. I will, she tells you, and you understand from her response that you will never ask her about the check any more that day. Then, at ten minutes before 5 p.m., you realize there is no check in your office, and your client’s very angry, yes, very angry indeed, because he doesn’t know why the defendant couldn’t cut the check, and he’s told you this several times that day, perhaps a dozen that week, and you’ve told him that you don’t understand it either, and that you’re pursuing it, yes, I really am, and I called the other attorney two days ago, and believe me, we’ll have the proceeds soon. How soon? I don’t know. I’m sorry. But I promise, we’ll have them soon, and if we don’t get them by Monday morning, we’ll file a motion to compel settlement, and that will spur them to pay the settlement. I guarantee it. Then you hang up the phone because you have to use the bathroom.

And then Monday arrives, and so does the check, which was due twenty-four days earlier. And your client, who incurred a giant bill at Wal*Mart can now pay the bill, and you can rest easy until you resolve your next case.