Saturday Morning Stare-down

I should be typing my list. It is 7:00 a.m. and it is Saturday and all week I have been saying that I was going to be mowing the yard on Saturday, cleaning the garage, cleaning the basement, painting the lamppost, taking the air conditioner plugs out, taking the insultating plastic off the windows (in the sunroom), planting garden, weeding, taking the garden tiller and snow blower in to see why they won’t start and oh yes and I want to go to the funeral for an elderly man from our church. I know I left off a few things. Not listed above was the thought that I was going to sleep in this morning, but instead of that I woke up at 6:30...it seems to me my plans for the day are off to a bad start. Some of the projects are ongoing (I am not sure the garage and basement will ever be organized – at least not while I am living – that sort of sounds morbid but its really a acknowledgement of mortality that someday that basement and garage will be emptied of all my stuff). Some of the projects are once and done, like walking around the house and pulling out the plugs that keep the warm air from going up into the air conditioning duct system during the winter. It was warm and sticky yesterday and a few more like that and we are going to want the A.C. to be working. So here I am I made my list. Wow. Let’s see how I do. Saturday Evening Update Snowblower and Tiller to repair shop Got lost twice on way back from the shop - somehow ended up in Reemstown Went to funeral sprayed for weeds in yard primed (with paint) the mailbox post and gave the lamppost a 2nd coat of primer puttered around the garden (which included pulling up a "weed" that was growing next to a blueberry bush that turned out to be a potato replanted potoe with the potatoes (not sure it will grow) went pitch and putt golfing with my daughter - 10 holes she shot a 50 I got a 54 made mint tea from fresh mint growing in the flowerbed/fig orchard/ rhubarb patch helped Esther clean some cupboards watched Kentucky Derby Layed on the floor with the dog on my shoulder Moved everything on my Saturday to do list to sometime early next week.

We The Jury

I received my first Federal Jury Summons in Sept or October of 2009. The summons said I would be required to do my jury duty in Philadelphia (South East PA) in December. I had just started my current job and everyone was telling me how the end of the year was extremely busy so I wrote back and requested that I be put off until after the New Year. So I think in December I got another notice that I was to appear I February. The summons tells how you may or may not be required to actually show up on the day you are supposed and that they will pay for travel and a place for you to stay. If you are a potential juror you are to call after 5 p.m. on the evening before to see if you are to show up the next day. So the secret is to find a hotel you can cancel at the last minute without having to pay for the night. The summons says that a potential juror will either serve 3 days or one trial. I had made my hotel reservation and I don’t remember the exact date but it was right about the time of one of our horrific February snows in 2010. I did make my call and I learned how they decided if you are going to show up, they use the juror number that is printed on your summons. That particular day they said only jurors with the number 0 to 80 needed to report. My number was over 300 but since I still could be called the following day I cancelled my hotel reservations for that night but kept it for the next two. The next day they said no jurors needed to report for either of the next two days. I was done or so I thought. I got my next summons in the spring of 2011. Again I made my hotel reservations and when the day came I called. My juror number at that time was 152. They said jurors with the number 0 through 150 needed to report. Of course one can’t plan anything for those three days even if you are at work but come the third day again I was no longer needed. In January of this year I received the now familiar brown manila envelope and the first thing I looked for was my juror number. This time it was 15 and I thought, “I’m going.” The previous two times I immediately made my reservations at the Hampton Inn. I chose Hampton because, it has a good breakfast and , it was pretty close to the federal courthouse, it is across the street from Reading Terminal Market (where I hoped to get a cheesesteak and some soft pretzels) and lastly because it wasn’t too expensive. The summons explains that if you live more than a certain distance away that they will pay for your lodging. They say they can’t say where you can’t or can stay and their listed of close hotels had some pretty fancy ones but just because someone else is paying and in this case it is taxpayers like me I don’t think spend too much money. Like I said previously I had made my reservations right away, this time I waited. When I went to make my reservation the Hampton was now one of those expensive hotels. I am not sure what changed or if they had a convention that week but all of their rooms I felt were too much. So I waited a week and the next time I looked there weren’t any rooms at the Hampton. I ended up getting the government rate (federal jury duty) at the Comfort Inn. The Comfort Inn is located between several busy roads and right up against the Benjamin Franklin Bridge. I had a lovely 5th floor corner room with a fantastic view of the bridge and out the other window the highway leading down to Penn’s Landing. Unfortunately this non-smoking room reeked…I asked about changing rooms but figured I would probably still get a room that smelled but with a less attractive view. I opted for letting the bathroom fan run all night and turning the heater on low. The room had a couple other minor flaws but it was o.k. as was the breakfast. It wasn’t Hampton but it was o.k. (note: I had just decided to stay in the room and had turned on the TV when the phone rang and Esther was crying. She told me that Jim Weaver (our brother-in-law) had died.) The next morning after breakfast I walked to the courthouse. I got there early so I strolled down to the house where Thomas Jefferson had written the Declaration of Independence and then along the street across from the Liberty Bell. Security was similar to the airport. I ended up in a rather large room on the second floor. There were hundreds of chairs and there were already a handful of people sitting there when I arrived. We were to be there by by 8:45 a.m. The 20 minute video introduction by the top judge started about nine and the last two jurors slipped in around 9:30 shortly before we all took our oath…which we could either “swear” or “affirm.” I felt very Nixon-esk when I said “I affirm.” We were given information on how we were going to get paid and given the opportunity to as questions. We were also given two vouchers for free drinks from the little store just down the hallway. At 9:45 we were told we had a 15 minute break. I had brought a book written by the mother of one of my co-workers and I found my way to the soft sofas at the front of the room. There was already one woman sitting there reading and a third joined us shortly. We got to talking and I discovered the one woman lived about two blocks away but had to run her grandchildren over to school that morning because their parents were moving that day. The other woman was a 4th grade school teacher from Abington who had taken the train down that morning. She said her husband had had to stay home from work to get the kids to school. I had just started to start reading again when about six people walked into the room. One it turned out was the bailiff and the others were lawyers from the defense and the other lawyers from the District Attorney’s office. Of course we didn’t know that at the time. They were there to observe us as we were numbered off. Apparently we had all been randomly assigned a number. They began by having us sit according to the number they read off. I was thinking they might stop at some point but when they reached #27 they called my name. When the finished reading at number 44 everyone in the room was either seated in the four rows of chairs as jurors or they were up front calling our names or watching us as we were called. The lawyers all left and then the bailiff said we needed to wait a few minutes until they had gotten up to the court room. We then headed for the elevators. It took 4 elevators with us packed like sardines to get to the 8th floor. We then waited a few minutes before entering the courtroom of Judge Tucker we went in according to our assigned number. Fifteen in the first row and 15 in the next and 14 in row three. On the left side facing us was the defendant and his team of three (only two of which eventually took an active role). On the right side the Assistant District Attorney, an assistant and a person from the Immigration department. On the far left behind the defense team were two people who turned out to be there to do language translation as apparently the defendant did not speak or understand English. I don’t remember if Judge Tucker had come in before or after Introductions of all these people were made but we all had to stand when she did. We were told the defendant was being charged with re-entering the US after having been deported. Judge Tucker is a middle aged African American woman with the amazing ability to stay awake, alert and engaged through what seemed to be a very tedious process. Judge Tucker asked us a series of questions about how we felt about law enforcement, the legal process, whether or not we had been victims of a crime or convicted of a crime, and several other questions and to those who responded it was the same questions to each. Will this affect your ability to act fairly and impartially in this matter? Each person was given the opportunity to either state certain things publically or go to sidebar. I am guessing that if I had ever been convicted of a crime I might have asked to go to sidebar but I was somewhat amazed how there were either 3 or 4 people who at one time had been arrested for DUI. We had a fairly large number who had been burglarized and several who had family members who were policy officers. Almost a quarter of us had previously served on a jury and all but two of those had actually reached a verdict. The other two were involved in cases that had settled before the case got that far. The questioning went on for about an hour and half. I never felt drowsy and almost always felt alert as I was taking it all in. One of the questions I raised my hand for was whether being on a trial for two days would be a hardship. Several others like me had raised their hands but we were told not to give the reason but to all wait and we were brought up individually for the sidebar discussions. One of the people who went up besides me was juror 30, the teacher with three young children. I had called and talked to my nephew and my sister in law that morning. When I called they weren’t sure when the funeral was going to be. I guessed it would be during the weekend but I also felt I needed to tell the court that a trial on Friday or stretching into Monday would be a hardship for me. They don’t give you yes or no they just say “thank you.” Other people were called up for no apparent reason…maybe because they had said they had a brother who was a cop or the lawyers thought they looked suspicious I don’t know. The toughest question the judge asked all of us was if we could really be impartial to realize that the defendant was innocent until proven guilty. That it was up to the District Attorney to provide the evidence that we would convict on. For me, I felt all the surges of the assumptions I was making about a defendant. Charged with re-entering the U.S, how could be here if he hadn’t come back…but I found it cleansing to really dig down and say Yes I could. Finally about 12:15 the judge said that now the lawyers would start examining us and it would take about 10 to 15 minutes. I thought that meant they were going to ask the questions but what it meant was they began looking at us and looking at our names and looking at their notes and then handing the list back and forth between the District Attorney and the Defense. I also watched Judge Tucker during this time and she seemed busy doing something and by that I mean it looked like she was really working and not doing Sudoku or Words with Friends or reading a book (or sleeping…I think if I were a judge and this repeated itself over and over, well I might be tempted to sleep). Shortly after 1 p.m. (definitely longer than the promised 10-15 minutes) they had agreed on the jury. The bailiff after apparently copying each name down from their sheets to his began reading the names and numbers. They then went to sit in the jury box off to the right side of the room. There were 14 people chosen (12 jurors and two alternates…I don’t know if they were told which one of them were the alternates). The first seven chosen were women and there were only two men. One of the women was the grandmother who lived two blocks away. I think for me the most interesting thing was I had started counting people as they came in and observed what seemed to be a shortage of minorities. Of the 44 of us there were 5 people of color. Four of us were of African heritage (3 were woman) and one man appeared to be perhaps SE Asian (perhaps from the Philippines). Of the final jury selected, three were African American. The fourth African American (a woman) had had a sidebar conversation with the judge when asked if there were people who physically couldn’t sit for extended periods of time. The one other event that happened while we were in the courtroom which I don’t know if everyone saw, I don’t think the judge noticed nor the district attorney and that was that I heard the door open behind us. I looked back and saw two Hispanic women start to come in. Then I noticed the defense team and the one woman sitting there who wasn’t active in the selection process was waiving with her hand for the two women to leave…she then got up and went back and walked them out. It was soon after this the defendant who had been sitting there very stoically began to cry. For me there seemed to be a connection between the events and his emotion…perhaps family he hadn’t seen in months, but certainly family that lived here…I know we all promised to only weigh the evidence but for me it certainly made me feel more sympathetic to the defendant and I don’t think it would have affected my verdict (if he had been proven guilty) but it reminded me that this whole immigration thing is a lot more complicated than we want to believe. I think there was more to this case than the simple charges but I guess I will never know. Those of us not selected were initially told we were going to get lunch then they said that we would be going back to the jury room and probably released for the day. Back in the jury room they did come and after most of us had gotten at least one of our “free” drinks with our coupon they told us we were done for the day and then said, in fact you are done for the week as there are no more jury trials needing jurors the remainder of the week. We were free and told to go home. I went and check out of the hotel (stopping for a cheesesteak at a restaurant on Market Street) then caught the subway to 30th street station and then next train back to Lancaster. When I got home I realized I was exhausted. It was a fascinating experience but I am glad I will not be selected for federal jury duty for at least two more years.

Happy Birthday "Nasson"

Today is my son’s 21st birthday. I remember his birth and I remember the ride home from the birth center. My daughter Elizabeth was talking nonstop to her new brother the whole way home and every sentence starting with, “Nasson.” He still looks and listens to her for advice. “Nasson” or as he is now know “Nathan” has grown into a fine young man with a loving heart. He cares deeply and passionately about things. His shy and creative and despite the shyness, he is able to express himself in his writing. As an introvert myself I think it is great to be able to verbalize in a world that seems dominated by talkative Type “A” extroverts. He is a talented artist but he seldom draws, he is a talented musician though he seldom plays and I wish he would do more of both. He is a talented writer and sometimes I wish he would write less ( a little word play I couldn’t resist). Truthfully, I don’t want Nathan to write less but as a parent it is hard to see you child to struggle let alone on a public stage and since Nathan is blogging (like I am here)it truly is very public. I am reminded of the play Les Miserable that Nathan acted in during high school. After one of the performances I was talking to my friend Jerry, ( Jerry’s daughter played Eponine who sings a heart wrenching song as she is dying), and Jerry said it was hard watching his daughter die. Whether it “dying” on the stage in a high school production of Le Miz or the stage that is life it is difficult to see our children going through struggles and pain. I hope Nathan continues to write. I know he keeps a journal in which he jots down funny or unusual things that happen. He says he will use those in a movie script one day. I am sure he will. That excites me. I want to see that movie. And not just that movie but I want to continue to watch and be part of the movie that is Nathan’s life. I thank God every day for both my children and that I have been able to be part their film. Yes, it is a little harder now that I am older and I don’t have as big of role and have moved from being the star to being a supporting actor, but it’s a good part. I love everyone in the cast. Happy Birthday Nathan.