Gerald Rochkind, my Bubie — In Memoriam 20 years

In Yiddush, the language spoken by generations of Jews, of which I am proud to say I am, the word for grandmother is “Bubie” or “Bubbie” (phonetically, “Boo – Bee” or “Bubb – ee”).  My children call my mom “Bubie”.   My father refers to my mother as nothing else now that they have grandchildren.  For the word means something more…I called my father’s mother, “Bubie”.   Geraldine King Rochkind, of blessed memory, died 20 years ago this weekend.  She is my Bubie.  The feelings of remorse and regret, the ones that try to swallow away, fill my throat.  I keep trying to swallow them down and away…it doesn’t work.  My father says that I was the last person that she spoke to before she died.  20 years  – – she has missed much.  We have missed her more.

Rest in peace, Bubie . . . you’d be proud to see how well your little family has done.

 

Battery Charging

I’ll write more about this after my experience ends but I NOW understand the meaning of going on vacation and “recharging the batteries”.  Contrary to my earlier thoughts, it does not mean going on vacation and resting.   It does not mean relaxing.  I never really understood it until now . . . on this trip, after a year battling the “powers the be” and experiencing what it means to be the top dog (all other dogs line up to challenge the top dog), I was beat.  I felt disconnected and distant.  A servant to my work and profession but a stranger in my home.  In the moment, while fighting out court cases, there is/was no way to end that cycle or trend.  This trip did that for me.

I spent every second with my children, wife and when they returned from their mini trip, my parents.  My family, the ROCKIND’s, spent time together.  Quality time.  Bonding time.

My batteries are re-charged.  I feel love, light and connected.  I feel plugged in.  Just what you do to charge your batteries.

Baruch Hashem.

 

 

Casias v Wal-Mart, Inc. – An Employment Marijuana Case

Much was written about Joseph Casias and his shortened tenure at Wal-Mart, Inc.  Casias, an employee of the year winner and an honored and respected member of the Wal-Mart Stores, Inc. corporate family was diagnosed with cancer and was forced to take some time off of work.  When he was scheduled to return to work, he was required to take a drug test.  He volunteered that he was going to test positive for marijuana or THC — after all, he was a medical marijuana patient.  He might as well have said that he hated Wal-Mart and thought that Sam Walton, the now departed founder of Wal-Mart Stores, was a communist.  At least then maybe he would’ve been able to enjoy doing something worth his termination or his firing.  That’s what happened to him.  Fired.  Terminated.  Broomed.  Pink Slipped.  Whatever the phrase, he was canned.   He sued claiming a violation of his Michigan Medcal Marijuana rights.  I know his suit well.  My work on behalf of a subpoenaed party took nearly a week of my life from the beginning to the end.  Casias’ suit was dismissed today.   The Marijuana Wars continue.  They just don’t include Joseph Casias as a party or witness. 

casias dismissed – opnion

Neil Rockind, P.C., led by Neil Rockind, Super Lawyer, dbusiness Top Lawyer and Top 100 Trial Lawyers per the National Trial Lawyers Association, has a extensive Medical Marijuana practice.  Some consider our firm of lawyers the Best Lawyers in Michigan in the areas of Criminal Defense and Medical Marijuana cases.   For answers to your questions, email our office at info@michiganmedicalmarijuanalawyers.com or call 248.208.3800.

Marijuana Patients vs Bloomfield Township Round I | 2.9.2011

Earlier in the week, I filed a lawsuit on behalf of Christopher Frizzo against the City of Royal Oak.  So when we appeared before the Hon. Denise Langford-Morris in the Marijuana Patients vs Bloomfield Township Case on Wednesday, 2.9, before the Hon. Denise Langford-Morris, I had little idea what to expect.  The Marijuana Wars to date have been nothing if not interesting and surprising.  The Michigan Medical Marijuana Act is under siege.  Local municipalities and counties not accustomed to having their powers curtailed or limited are resisting mightily — picture a choking or gasping swimmer flailing in the water and so desperate to stay above the surface that when the lifeguard comes to save him, he starts to push the lifeguard under water. Government hates to have its powers limited and the Michigan Medical Marijuana Act does just that (robs government of its powers).

2.9 was round 1:  instead of a bikini clad woman holding up a Round 1 placard or sign, co-counsel and I got to see William Hampton, the leader of the municipal powerhouse law firm, Secret Wardle, et al.  Hampton is considered part of the old guard in Oakland County .  We’ve had other “encounters” but never in court.  In fact, I don’t think he’s ever seen me in court — certainly he’s never seen me argue a case.  All of these guys have heard the rumors about me — powerful, eloquent, passionate, witty, quick, smooth, gifted, etc. — but they all figure the rumors are overblown, exaggerated or the fawnings of young lawyers.  Guys like Hampton usually think,

I’ll handle him.

Uh, no they (you) won’t.  The powers that be in state government, etc. may try to bring me down (that comes with the territory of being a target or a public figure) but they’ll never bring me down or handle me in an actual trial courtroom.  NEVER.  So, when I get up to argue after my co-counsel Tom Loeb and William Hampton, the importance of the moment is not lost on me.  I am arguing for Michigan Medical Marijuana patients everywhere.  I will not let you down.

Round 1:  Bloomfield Township filed a motion to dismiss our Medical Marijuana Lawsuit challenging Bloomfield Township’s ordinance.  Is it based on law?  No.  Are they saying that our client’s suit is not factually just?  No.  Rather, they argue that our clients, who elected to file this suit in pseudonyms, John Doe and Richard Roe rather than expose their confidential and private names and other information to the police powers, etc., MUST identify themselves in order to have to access to the courts.  Forget long-standing precedent, e.g., Roe v Wade, Doe v University of Michigan and others, argues Bloomfield Township — they want to “out” the patients.  So we are in court.  Bloomfield Township trying to “out” and “intimidate” its residents; Loeb and I to protect the residents.  Bloomfield Township to fight the law, the Michigan Medical Marijuana Act; Loeb and I to enforce it.

So when we get done arguing, I look at the courtroom and I sense Hampton’s surprise.  I imagine him saying to himself

Damn . . . this kid can argue.

There were no knockouts in Round 1 but I wasn’t expecting one.  Maybe Hampton or Bloomfield Townshp were but as I said, they know that they are in for a fight. I fight I do not intend to lose.

The Best Super Bowl Sunday Ever — My Son and I

“Dad, this is the best Super Bowl, isn’t it?”.  I looked over at my nine (9) year  old son.  I smile…and nod, “yes, of course.”  He is sitting next to me . . . digging his hands into a bowl of popcorn, smiling.  I smile.  It is just the two of us, watching the Super Bowl together.  Just the guys.  Just us boys.  Sure I was invited to parties, dinners and gatherings.  No doubt those are fun and I appreciate the invitations but I wouldn’t trade anything or places with anyone.

Where Does The Time Go?

Tears stream down my cheeks and that uncomfortable lump grows in my throath, chest.  I’m looking at photographs of my children.  My wife and I are looking at the photoraphs together.  They tell a beautiful story of a young couple who marry and make a nice little, happy life for themselves with their three (3) children.  These photos tell the story of my life with my wife and kids.  Today I see pictures of a chubby cheeked, always smiling boy with huge, giant curls.  I touch the cheeks of the boy in the picture trying to remember those “Kodak” moments.  I turn to my wife and she has tears in her eyes.  We both do.  Where does the time go?  He’s older now . . . 9.  Yes, he’s still young but he’s older, sassier, more talkative and testing his boundaries.  But not tonite.  Tonite it was the two of us.  The boys. Father and Son.  It was the best Super Bowl Sunday ever.

Don’t Worry . . . I Bite!

A Sign of the Apocalypse — Recall of Kids’ Medicine

This is very upsetting.  No offense, but this is what happens when we let corporations and their representatives run the world.  We get drugs for our children, recommended to us by our pediatricians and doctors, that turn out to be unsafe.  Profits over People . . .

Recall of Kids’ Tylenol, Motrin, Zyrtec, Benadryl.

Unsafe “OTC” Medicine

Doctor recommended!? For years we are told that some over the counter medicines for our kids were “doctor recommended” or contained the seals and marks of certain “doctor associations”. These marks and recommendations made us believe that we were helping our kids when we give them medicine. I want to ease my children’s pain when they’re sick and for years I, like other parents, gave them ibuprofen and acetamenophin. We did so on the advice, silence or approval of our doctors, pediatricians, Food and Drug Administration, government, etc. We reasonably rely on the fact that someone will look out for us and our kids. My doctor said it was ok! The government wouldn’t approve it for use if it were dangerous! Who do we have to thank for medicine that we’ve been giving our children for years that was recently recalled due to safety concerns?

When doctors and the government tell us things are safe and than years later tell us that they’re not and might never have been, we have a right to be scared and suspicious. As many of you know, I’m a vegan. I don’t eat foods that contain animal byproducts. I try to avoid foods that are high in sodium. I try to avoid genetically modified foods. The fact that its sold to us doesn’t make it safe. Please read the recall and remove the recalled medicines from your medicine cabinets.

G-d bless and BH.

Prepared But Not Ready – Norbert Reinstein and Neil Rockind

In a previous post, I referred to him as the Energizer bunny.  Tireless.  Powerful.  Charged.  He seemed to run, just like the bunny, when all others stopped.   But he was much more, he was my grandfather . . . Norbert Reinstein and on Wednesday, November 10, 2009 he passed quietly, painlessly in his sleep in the hospice ward of Beaumont Hospital.   For 2 weeks, I spent time with him in the hospital.  In my own way, my very own “Tuesdays with Morrie” but with my grandpa.  I miss him very much.

My grandfather was born in Vienna, Austria.  My grandmother too.  She was a rich aristocratic high society girl.  He, a common villager.  He loved her . . . you can imagine her reaction to him.  Uhh, … no thank you.   When the Nazi’s began taking the property of Jewish families, including their homes, etc., my great-grandfather sold nearly all to pay for my grandmother to come to America.  In New York City, without any survival skills, having never taken care of herself (cooking, etc), she found herself in a foreign place and world x 2.  My grandfather would make it there too but his was a much more harrowing path.

He, like his family, was caught by the Nazi’s.  He was detained in Dachau, a concentration camp.   His parents and other relatives (save his brother, Ernest) were murdered by the Nazi’s.  My grandfather and his brother escaped . . . literally, sneaking out and living in the woods.  Ultimately, he made it to England and through shrewdness and tenacity, found a stranger in Cleveland, Ohio to sponsor them to come to America.  Upon arriving, he too found himself in a foreign city and country but . . . he was placed in a bunk in a “Y” next to someone who was friends with my grandmother.  Within a week or so, he found her . . . 67 years, they were married until he passed.

He was larger than life.  A giant.  A reknowned philanthropist and professional in his field.   He was photographed with senators, governors . . . I used to stare in awe at the awards (I have a wall not dissimilar in my office).  But to me . . . he was just my grandpa.

I eulogized him at his funeral.  My friends were decent and kind enough to come and I hope that they learned something about him.  He outlasted those f*&king Nazi’s, those animals that wanted him dead and more.  He didn’t just outlive them by alot (he died when he was 95) but he defeated them.  He joined the US Army, translated for the Army to get intelligence from the captured Nazi’s, got 2 degrees from the Univ of Minnesota, married, had 2 children who in turn had 5 children (his grandchildren) and one of those children, me, has 3 children (his great-grandchildren).   Where the Nazi’s wanted rootrot and death and termination, he created 3 generations of life!!!!

During the 2 weeks in the hospital, I bounced nervously at every noise he made.  Was he ok?  Nurse?  What’s happening?  My mother and father were there too . . . over his sleeping form, we’d share stories of our life with him.  All funny.  All sad.  I lost it one day.  Crying so hard that my mother had to comfort me.  Something that hadn’t happened since I was a child and I don’t know then even when exactly.  I’m just assuming it did.  My family put him into hospice, ironically the nicest and most well-equipped rooms in the hospital.

It’s time.  We just want him to have a peaceful exit.

People would say this, preparing themselves for his departure.  We tried to prepare ourselves.  Today? Tomorrow?  Soon?  His breathing is slowing.  Doctor, what does that mean??  But when he passed, I returned to the hospital with my parents . . . his body still oddly warm and we stared.  We were kind of waiting for him to start breathing again . . . but such things occur in Hollywood, not on Woodward.  He was gone and I was not ready.  All the preparation did little to make me ready for that moment.

I am blessed to know this.   He died before Hannukah however my 2 boys, his blood, his genes, his legacy were at his house 2 weeks prior playing dreidel with him.  We took a photograph of the 3 of them . . . the 95 year who sacrificed and overcame so much for these 2 boys to be here.  It would be the last photograph he ever took.

Norbert Reinstein.  Neil Rockind.  He wore a ring on his finger with the initials “NR”.  I wear his “NR” ring on my finger as though I had always worn it.  I guess in a way, I always wore his initials and his imprint on me.    The ring is just a reminder.  He is in my heart and mind forever and always.  I wasn’t ready to have to remember him.

What Do You Do When The Energeizer Bunny Stops Running – My Grandfather

For those who know me, I have been blessed with having 3 grandparents still living for nearly my entire adult life. Earlier this year, one of my grandparents, my paternal grandfather passed away. Wednesday, December 10, 2008, I lost another grandparent, my mother’s father, Norbert Reinstein. He was truly an Energizer Bunny . . . as silly as this may sound, he was one of those people who I couldn’t just imagine wouldn’t survive on this planet. Those people are few and far between . . . and he was 95.

A survivor of the Holocaust. He outlasted nearly all of those who wished him dead and more . . . he came to the United States, found my grandmother, Marianne Reinstein, and made a life here. This despite being in a slave camp, escaping, stowing away on a ship and then realizing that if he joined the army and translated for the Allies, his family and he would be citizens. He was strong, genius and wonderful.

I spend the last 2 weeks with him in the hospital . . . visiting with him, comforting him, expecting him to survive. He had survived so much already. But alas, his brain/mind, that which had gotten him through so much, couldn’t will his body any more. I was with him the day that he died and then with him minutes after he actually did.

I was blessed to have him in my life. I will miss him dearly.