jury duty

Catherine and I have had such a great weekend together. Saturday is our true Sabbath, when we hang around and promise to do absolutely nothing except love each other. We slept in late, toodled over to Chipotle's to have a 3pm sunch; then (after sundown) went to see niece Hannah appearing in her school play, "Grease." Her part was wonderfully well played, as were most of the colorful character parts; the leads, as usual, were a bit weak. (This is so true most of the time, isn't it? Disney movies, Harry Potter, local school productions, you name it. Why is that?)

And we had a similarly lovely day today as well. Tomorrow, I report for jury duty at 8am downtown. The reason I don't like jury duty is far different from most people's reason: after all, I'd actually love to serve on a jury. I see it as being part of the machinery of democracy. This is where it all comes down, folks, and you and I can be part of it.

Except some of us never will, because of the peremptory challenge. Most know it as "jury selection," by which we mean jury weeding. You don't actually get to handpick who's going to be on your jury, from the pool of 50 or so folks. But both parties get to cross off a certain number of people without giving any reason at all.

So, here's how it's always gone in the past for me (I've done this a few times now), and how I'm expecting it to go this time:

Defense: So, you have a Master's Degree?

A: Yep. English, 1995.

Defense: Ahhhh, thanks.....

Plaintiff: Hmmm, "Brake." Any relation to Joe Brake?

A: Yes. He's my dad.

Plaintiff: The defense lawyer?

A: That's right.

Plaintiff: Ahhhhh, thanks.



This time just might be magic. Who knows? But in the meantime I'll savor the Hellerian irony that being both qualified and enthusiastic about serving my country in this way is a one way ticket to being disqualified. Sheesh.

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