Good Morning, Friends!

And it is a good morning, too, since I got to sleep in an extra two hours from the last week’s six am alarm. Once I got on a case I could stretch that to a 6:15 alarm, but still. Waaaaay too early for this retired gal.

I did remember that I could sleep in when I got up for the middle of the night bathroom break and started singing and dancing a jig back to bed.

Seriously.

But I really knew that I was home when I strode into the kitchen announcing, “All rise for the jury,” and all I got was a disinterested “yah,” from the hubster already deep into the next project.

But it is all good. I am happy to be home and able to do my normal duties. The cats will get to know me again and the dishes piled up in the sink will disappear and the laundry will get folded.

When I would get home each night around 5:45, I was exhausted. Part of this was due to age, and part due to all the winter gear you had to wear for the sub zero temps that iced  the individual days that I served on jury duty. And not just wearing the gear, but taking it on and off and schlepping it around the government center. Just luck I guess on that one.  Another part, though,  was not being used to being with lots of people all day,  which I am blaming on the pandemic.

And boy, was I with people!

We were told to make use of public transportation instead of relying on the parking ramps which can be pricey. A friend told me that they used to pay parking costs, but they don’t now. So I decided to take the bus.

Half an hour’s ride was what I thought was reasonable, so that left me with catching the bus at the Brooklyn Center Transit Station, where there is no place to park and ride. Well, technically that’s not true . You could choose to park in any of the multitude of lots nearby, but they are well posted that they will tow your car if you aren’t one of the cars that’s supposed to be there.

I’m guessing that the jury duty officials aren’t going to pay for that, either.

On my first day riding the bus, I did find a dead end to park on and was happy to a) find my car there at the end of the day, and b) find that I still had my catalytic converter attached to said car. It was a form of gambling.

So, when I started my days of continuous jury service, the hubster drove me to the transit station to catch the morning  bus and then picked me up at the end of the day. I am very grateful to him for doing that. It was one thing that I didn’t have to worry about.

And that left other things to worry about. I am not fond of being in large groups of people, nor am I fond of trying to figure out new situations when other people are watching,

Okay, so I walk into the transit station for my first foray to downtown Mpls. It is cold. It is very cold. The transit station is full of men who are there for protection from the bitter cold. They are having a discussion about something.

I enter, walk to the ticket machine, bundled up against the cold, and start reading the new to me instructions on how to get a bus ticket. Take off gloves. Stuff in pocket. Glasses are now fogged up. Take off glasses to read machine. Can’t read machine. Put glasses back on in hopes that the fogginess  has lessened. It hasn’t. Try to manipulate glasses on my face to get a clear spot in order to read the machine. Now have to take off ear muffs in order to move glasses around. Ear muffs go on to sleeve. Find a clear spot on glasses. Ear muffs slip off sleeve fall on floor. Pick up ear muffs and stick in other jacket pocket. Jacket now becoming uncomfortably tight but can’t unzip because of cold.  Am sure that all the men sitting around discussing are now rolling their eyes collectively at the woman at the ticket machine. Finally have a clear window on my glasses on the lens part that will allow me to read the machine instructions. Press the appropriate buttons, insert card.  Buy ticket. Struggle to get piece of paper past the  plastic flip door on machine. Am sure there’s another collective eye roll from the peanut gallery. Adjust glasses. Pull ear muffs out of left jacket pocket and stuff ticket  in there. Put on ear muffs. Pull gloves from right pocket. Pull on. Walk outside. Find “I” bus stop to wait for “C  Line” bus.  Thank you Moovit app for the info.

Riding a bus has changed from when I rode to the U of MN oh these many years ago. You can enter any of three doors. You don’t have to show/scan your ticket on the bus. But, should you get caught without a ticket, you pay a hefty fine. I’m not big on gambling so I pay.

And I continue to buy a ticket from the machine before each ride until the machine says my cards are invalid and I have just enough real cash to get home. Oh, yes, and the cold freezes my fingers as I fumble with the outside machine buttons at the 7th street bus stop.

I go looking for an app to prepay just one ride at a time. I didn’t need a big multi ride Metro bus card—-who knew how long I would  be on jury duty?

I find it and it makes my life sooooooo much easier.  Now I can just press buttons on my phone from the warm inside of the bus on my 32 minute ride back and forth to jury duty.

So now we’re on my first ride back on the bus and the bus driver doesn’t know that the two little old women waiting in the step well in the middle of the bus wanted to get off at that stop. Why not? Because the notification tape that you press to signal the driver doesn’t work.

We were waiting at the intersection with the bus stop, but we are four cars back from the stoplight and the doors when pressed won’t open. The light changes and the driver whizzes right past the bus stop.

From behind my left ear comes a tirade that would have made a sailor blush. A strident voice yells everything at the driver to get him to stop. And then I hear a soft voice apologizing to the passenger in front of her for her language. The bus driver speeds up and the once soft voice continues screaming at him to stop.

Four blocks later he stops to let off the two little old ladies who by now have spoken up to tell him that they’re my age(!) and now have to walk back four blocks in the bitter cold because of his mistake.

Angry yelling woman is still yelling. Bus driver is yelling. Angry yelling woman is still standing in the step well to depart the bus when the doors close on her causing her to yell and curse all the more. The bus driver yells back his ID number in case she wants to make a claim.

Bus doors finally close. Quiet ensues. Bus continues on its route. This is my first day of riding the bus for jury duty.

And this was after my knitting needles were confiscated at the government center.

Yep. Upon entering the Hennepin County Government Center, all members of the public have to go through weapons screening. There is a list of 15 items that cannot be brought into the upper floors. Knitting needles were early on the list even though it was either a gun or a knife that was used to attack people on am upper floor a few years ago, necessitating the crackdown on  weapons.

Now allowing enough time to go through the weapons check was stressed on the jury summons as was bringing something to help pass the time. But they didn’t tell us what we couldn’t bring.

I brought two knitting projects which were promptly seized. ARG!!!! I still had crossword puzzles and coloring and a Kindle to read, but what would I do with my hands?? And what about my already half done projects???

Meanwhile the two police officers in attendance are discussing if they’ve ever actually seen a murder by knitting needles. It was a little Mutt and Jeff. Thankfully the security officer saved my knitting in a bin for me.

I did ask about crochet hooks. One said he didn’t know while the other one said they needed to update their weapons list. The first suggested I try a plastic crochet hook stuck in my pants pocket. And then we discussed yarn projects before I left for the 24th floor.

I was late that first day for a number of reasons, too late for the afternoon’s pool. But the jury office offered me a chance to come as a walk on in a week, so I took that.

A week later I showed up at 8:15 to scan in my barcode at a kiosk, read a booklet about the rules and regs of jury duty and watch a video. I went to lunch and had an expensive salad in the skyway then returned to be chosen for a pool for a case. We went through all the questioning and then with one last question from a potential juror regarding the behavior of the defendant in the hall before entering the courtroom, we were  dismissed for a break. When we returned after a 45 minute fifteen minute break, we were all dismissed. Tainted jury pool was my inference.

The next morning, I was chosen for another pool where the judge suggested that we could knit while we waited for various lawyer/judge conversations. He was surprised when as part of my “what are your hobbies” part of the questioning, I informed him that we couldn’t. The prosecutor asked me if I got my knitting needles back and the judge replied that they could see him if I couldn’t. It’s nice to see this little old lady’s hobbies being supported by the legal system.

In the meantime, in my desire to not spend money on an overpriced salad for lunch, I brought my own. With a fork. That was promptly seized by security at the weapons check. Sigh.

All morning I kept thinking what my options were. I could steal a plastic fork from the expensive eatery with the salads. No, that didn’t sit right with me. I know! I’ll get a small latte at Caribou and pick up a spoon there!

It was a good idea in theory, but in practice, not so much. They have wooden coffee stirrers, not spoons.

So, yes, I ate my pasta salad from home with three wooden coffee stirrers held piece to piece from Caribou. Sometimes I just used two as chopsticks. It did provide me some giggles throughout lunch.

The next day, I brought plastic spoons in my lunchbag.

******

The case started on Wednesday morning and we were ready to deliberate just before 4:30 closing time on Thursday. I will say that deliberations were interesting. Listening to everyone’s thoughts about what we all heard and saw throughout the trial was informative and eye opening. I liked all the respect that was going on. I also understood all the pre-questioning of the jury pool beforehand. You really do use your prior life experiences to help you make a decision. I was happy to be a part of the multicultural group with equal amounts of men and women. I was very glad to have been a part of a jury.

This doesn’t mean that I wasn’t ecstatic to be done last night. I am not exaggerating when I say that there was a little mulled wine left on the  suction cups on the bath pillow after I licked my fingers and  rubbed them to give them a little pre- moisture to adhere to the tub better. I also downed a pint of fudge ice cream.

Negotiating on the bus system,  being in an unknown group, not being able to speak or leave whenever I wanted, being downtown, doing something new, all of these thing made me nervous. I will say that the only time I felt afraid was on Thursday as I walked the one block between 8th and 7th Streets. No one else was there on that block but a rather sketchy looking guy who was peering at one on the parked cars. Carjacking is prevalent all over the Twin Cities.  I passed him and then looked behind me to check where he was. Again, keeping in mind that it was -11 and my hood was up and my glasses foggy.  He was where he had been still considering the car.

Mental illness was apparent in the singing dancing girl at the bus stop one day, and the guy who was bent over in the seat across the aisle from me, intently exploring the seam of the seat’s upholstery for 20 minutes. Was approached at the transit station by a twenty something who looked like he should be at Macalester. Obviously on something, he wanted money for coffee, then swerved off into the freezing cold. I kept wondering if his parents knew where he was. And, of course, being the minority on the bus, you just need to observe your situation, being normal and kind.

So, yes, there was enough to make me anxious. But I did it for my dad.

He taught government and civics  for years. Having the county courthouse right across the street provided a great opportunity. He arranged to take classes over there to observe court proceedings. Way ahead of his time in the field trip department.

But he was never called for jury duty. He would have dearly loved it.

So as I was leaving the Hennepin County Government Center yesterday I said, “This is for you, Dad.”

Have a wonderful wintry Saturday. Appreciate all the courts throughout this country that take the time to make sure that each defendant is first considered innocent and then has the right to have her/his case listened to by a jury of her/his peers.

“All rise for the jury.”

Love,

Janet