Robbins: Thirty years of legal columns

When I started out, my sons were 4 and 5. They now are 34 and 35, one married, one engaged, one a marketer, and the other one a lawyer.

Whew! How time flies! 

What I started when they were barely more than toddlers was this column. This month marks 30 years that I have been writing it. For several years — four or so as I recall — the column ran twice weekly. For most of that long time, though, Hump Day has been where I have settled in. By my figuring, I have penned on these pages more than a million and a half words. Enough to float a small flotilla in printer’s ink perhaps. 

And they somehow claim that lawyers are verbose!

Add my day job and my novels. I dare not guess what the whole shebang adds up to. On my shoulders may be a small environmental catastrophe of ink. 

Support Local Journalism

Donate

My bad.

Someone once said — was it Shakespeare? — that only a lawyer could write 10,000 words and have the temerity to call it a brief. Measured by my outflow, there’s some truth to that, I suppose.

One of the greatest compliments I received in all these years was one that I am not sure was necessarily intended as one; one of my editors, Scott Miller, offhanded to me that I was “as reliable as the tide.” That may not have meant much to him, but when your major talent is persistence, it meant a lot me.

Before I leave for vacation — or if I have a trial coming up — I stockpile columns so, like an hebdomadal ebb and flow — one is never missed.

In these many years, my thoughts have ranged over a Sahara’s worth of topics, from the mundane to the arcane, from what I like to think is the profound to the sort of minutia that only the mother of a lexophile could truly love. I have sought to educate and entertain. If I’ve made you smile even once or caused you to exhale an enlightened “ah-hah,” then I’ll score keep it as a victory.

I have written about the niceties and nastiness of law. I have written about policy and procedure. I have written about cases that shook the legal world and the fundaments upon which our nation of laws was carefully and deliberately constructed. I have spelled out and tried my best to explain the rules, rules of law, and the artform of their navigation.

Of the many columns I have spilled on these pages, there are three topics about which I have received most comment. The first two were not unexpected.  First, there has been a deluge every time I have written about the Second Amendment. The right to bear arms, predictably, has folks, well … up in arms. The second, has been columns when I was critical of one policy or another, where I opined that the folks in Washington were causing the Founders to spin their respective graves. Folks forget though — or maybe they are just new to town — that in the past three decades, I have been an equal opportunity critic of both left and right.

The third topic, though, was a surprise. Years ago, I wrote about common law marriage in this state. Therein, I (I thought rather innocently) observed that whether you were married ceremonially or via common law, if the blush has fallen from the rose, the process of divorce is all the same. What this led to was a crush of phone calls, all of which went like this:

“Okay, I read your column.”

“Today’s, I presume.”

“Yeah. Yeah. And you see, a long time ago my girlfriend and I said that we were married — common law, I guess. Because if you did, then she could get a ski pass too.”

“Did you sign something swearing that you were married?”

Long pause. “Yeah. I guess. Anyway … we’re not together anymore. And, well … you see, I’m married. To someone else. I mean really married. So …” (long pause followed by a gulp). “Am I married twice?! Should I have gotten a divorce?!”

I took a lot of calls like that.

Over the years, people have been mostly kind. I have my tiny fan club, the smaller klatch of which are not blood relations. And folks have felt free — despite my aim to try and not take sides — to offer me their opinions. That is more than fine; the robust involvement of one’s even occasional readers is all a writer can hope for. If I’ve fired a few neurons, well thank you. Good for me.

While people have disagreed with me, sometimes vociferously, only very rarely has it been personal. Least we have forgotten in this fractured nation that is the essence of good debate. Even though I try mightily to not bleed into opinion when I do, you are as entitled to yours as am I to mine. There is health and growth and vigor in minor reciprocal agitation.

Anyway.

Thank you for bringing me into your homes. Thank you for taking a few minutes with me each week. It is my hope that we will spend a little time with each other for many years to come and, perhaps each learn a little from the other.

I am, perhaps surprisingly, not yet dried out. Despite approaching 2,000 columns, law remains a rich field for me to mine. Here’s looking forward to the next 30 years or so; presuming both the readers and the Daily will continue to indulge me.

Rohn K. Robbins is an attorney licensed before the Bars of Colorado and California who practices in the Vail Valley with the Law Firm of Caplan & Earnest, LLC. His practice areas include business and commercial transactions; real estate and development; family law, custody, and divorce; and civil litigation. Robbins may be reached at 970-926-4461 or Rrobbins@CELaw.com. His novels are available at fine booksellers; the latest, “Falling,” was published in November.