LIstening In

Listening In

I had only been on the Domestic Relations bench for a few months when an old friend and Family Law practitioner came to see me in my office. "Judge," he asked, "why do you think I always try to sit at the counsel table on your left?" I was busted.

He had noticed that I seemed to ask the lawyer on my right to repeat what he or she had said much more often that the lawyer on my left. In spite of my refusal to acknowledge it, I just wasn't hearing well when speakers were on my right. And my hearing on the left wasn't much better.

I have worn hearing aids for almost 25 years now. My hearing has declined over time and, without amplification, I have a very difficult time trying to follow a conversation. I also understand from my co-workers that my whisper is somewhat louder than I think it is. My law partner compares it to a shout!

My father had hearing problems for years before he finally broke down and saw a doctor. The diagnosis was no surprise. His hearing was deteriorating and he needed hearing aids. I was not surprised when the audiologist told me that I was following on the same path. My brother also wears hearing aids.

Last week I had lunch with a former student and old friend who told me he had worn hearing aids since he was a child. We commiserated about the uninsured expense associated with modern digital hearing aids (upwards of $5,000.00 a pair) and the sad truth that, even with the advances in aid technology, we still experienced hearing problems, especially in settings with substantial background sounds, like restaurants and social gatherings.

I have had only one serious mishap with my hearing aids. Last Spring we were in Costa Rica. After a day in the steamy rainforest, I was ready for a swim in the pool at our resort. I put on my suit, walked to the pool, and jumped in. The electronic squeal in my ears told the tale; I had forgotten to take out the devices that helped me hear. One was still in my ear – the other had disappeared and a search of the pool by me and my companions yielded nothing.

Salvation of the one remaining aid was provided by storing it overnight in uncooked rice from the dining room, which dried it out and, at least, let me hear some of what transpired on the rest of the trip. The same drying trick, I understand, works for smartphones that end up in the toilet.

What Do I Know About Farming?

I was lucky enough to be born and raised in an upper-middle-class suburb of Columbus, Ohio. I learned how to take a bus, how to get downtown, and other urban skills. What I didn't learn was anything about farming.

A Domestic Relations judge usually is burdened with decisions concerning the care and support of children of divorcing parents, the division of marital assets and obligations, and the amount (if any) and duration of alimony payments. But, every so often, a novel question presents itself for resolution.

Actually, judges are only called-upon to resolve disputes when the parties and their attorneys are not able to do so. Fortunately, in the overwhelming number of cases, the problems are resolved by negotiation and the parties make appropriate decisions that work for them. Sometimes, however, the issue is so fraught with emotional overlay or economic consequence that the court has to step in and decide, regardless of how ill-equipped a judge might be to deal with a particular dispute.

In Ohio, family courts issues "temporary orders" designed to maintain a semblance of the status quo while divorce proceedings, which can last a year or more, go forward. I had not been on the bench very long when a disputing husband and wife appeared with their lawyers asking that I resolve a dispute that had arisen concerning their temporary orders. The parties owned a substantial farm with hundreds of tillable acres. Throughout the years of their marriage, they had decided together how to accllocate the fields between growing corn and growing soy beans. Now, with animosity between them at a peak, they asserted that they were unable to make the allocation for the coming growing season.

Both attorneys made impassioned arguments concerning why their client should have the authority to make this allocation. The husband wanted to plant beans; the wife, corn. I heard testimony about anticipated market fluctuations and likely weather conditions. Of course, I had no idea how to decide this agricultural dilemma. One could say that I didn't know beans about corn!

After the lawyers quieted down, they joined their clients, staring at me, waiting for my pronouncement. I suggested that they repair to a conference room and figure it out for themselves. I told them I had no idea what they should plant -- it all sounded like succotash to me.

Dejected by their inability to show me how wrong their spouses were, the parties left the courtroom.

About a half hour later, the attorneys came to see me in my office and told me that the farm couple had decided what to plant and in what quantities. A grand example of a family law dispute resolved as a result of the ignorance of the judge.