One of my many niche skills is that I know how to design, plan, and draft the legal foundation – motions, rules, procedures, and manuals – of what we in Ohio call "specialized dockets."

A specialized docket is also called a treatment court. There are different kinds of specialized dockets, each of which focuses on one class of offenders who all share a non-criminal trait that causes them to break the law.

Overall, these special courts are intended to offer "a therapeutically ori­ented judicial approach to providing court supervision and appropriate treatment to individuals."

Typical specialized dockets are mental health dockets (for offenders whose mental illness causes the crim­i­nal behavior), veterans dockets (for veterans whose criminal behavior is tied back to their service, often due to PTSD), and drug dockets (for offenders with substance addictions).

Several years ago, I created our municipal court’s mental health docket, and I am presently working on cre­at­ing an OVI (operating a vehicle under the influence) docket for the same court.

Participants progress through specialized dockets in phases, with fewer restrictions and more responsibility as they move forward. One of the ongoing discussions the judge, court staff, and I have been having is what milestones a participant in the OVI docket has to achieve to move to another phase or graduate.

As an example of what more responsibility could entail, Doug, who will be the court coordinator, mentioned that another Ohio OVI court makes its participants write their own obituary.

We discussed that possibility and ended up shelving it for the time being. I nevertheless think it’s an intrigu­ing concept. Presumably, the participant making good progress would write a more affirmative, positive obituary than someone just starting out in the court with a string of OVI offenses and mandatory treatment.

Write your own obituary.

Last month when I wrote about estate planning ^[1], one reader commented that she had already done her estate planning and also had written her own obituary. Good thinking. Something else I need to put on my more pressing to-do list.

By writing your own obituary, you (a) spare your family and friends that task at a time when they may not be at their best and (b) you have a better shot at controlling the content of the obituary provided no one messes with it after you die and before the obituary goes public.

I grew up reading obituaries in our local small-town paper (I was a weird kid, okay?). A half century ago, obituaries were pretty cut and dried. There was a recitation of death (when, where), of birth (when, where, parents), of certain essential facts (spouse, children, siblings, living or otherwise). Finally, the obituary would close with when and where the calling hours and funeral would be held, and where the burial would be.

Very standard, very formulaic.

I am thrilled that obituaries have changed greatly in recent decades. Oh, they still contain some of that rote recitation, but they now also contain personal reflections about the deceased. “Dad loved a good joke.” “Mom grew the best tomatoes.” “Cheryl could make a bed with perfect hospital corners.”

This personalization is all the more reason for me to stop dawdling and get busy writing.

Yes, my obituary will reflect my date of death. But one phrase I vehemently object to and do not want any­where near my obituary is that I died “after a brave battle” or “a courageous fight” or any other warrior language related to my cancer. (Please know this is my own viewpoint; I know many others feel differently, and I say that’s fine – use that lan­guage in your obituary.) No, I want my obituary to read something like “April grudgingly lived side-by-side with myeloma until the cancer terminated the relationship.”

Okay, so no militaristic overtones in my obituary.

But what do I really want to say?

This is where I go back to the purpose of making participants in a specialized docket write their own obituary. You write your own obituary in order to reflect on what in your life was most important.

My husband, my children, my grandchild, my stepchildren. My community work. Those are easy. Those get top billing.

I want my obituary to reflect that I have baked hundreds of pies in my life and read hundreds of thousands of books. And written more lines of prose and poetry that never saw the light of day than anyone I ever knew.

I have brothers and other family members, including two elderly parents. I imagine they will be in my obituary. But I cannot imagine an obituary that doesn’t mention my friends Margo or Cindy or Mel or Margaret. Close as I am to my family, I would probably give my friends billing over them.

With each passing day, I become more aware of fleet-footed Time, and realize anew, again, afresh, that time is finite.

Time to write that obituary.