Jury Duty

Waiting outside the gathering room for all the persons called to report for jury duty.  Rather than looking like a gathering of my peers, it looks like a post modern Ellis Island, with the same sentiments,  Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free; The wretched refuse of your teeming shore, Send these, the homeless,  Tempest-tossed to me.  

That pretty much describes what we all looked like. There was a very strong smell of alcohol wafting around the head of one caucasian middle-aged man, who was eating a lunch packet.  There are about eight  women in the middle-age bracket, three of whom are African American.  A slew of women in the 20-40 age range and a disproportionate amount of Asians, men and women.  There is one male representative of the 1%.  The number of men, aged 30-50 is about equal to the number of young women.  This is most likely what the City looks like by population breakdown.  Almost no interaction among the waiters, and rather than hiding behind newspapers, everyone’s eyes are downcast as they are buried in their electronic devices.

As the day progressed, I was the #1 seat for a trial.  However, once the two lawyers and I had a tete-a-tete in the ante room, I was released.  Eight citizens went off without me to do their civic duty.

Day two.  No need for trial persons.  We are all released at lunch time.

 

Yesterday’s News

Robins, warm weather, idles of Spring.  Gone!  Today was a rip roaring 19 degrees as I left  home to report for jury duty.  I think if I didn’t have windows that look out on the street, I would mis-clothe myself for the weather.  When in the early morning I see the dog walkers hunkered down behind the collars of their outer garments, and accompanying dogs moving at a faster-than-usual-pace and back hairs blowing in the wind, then I know to dress warmly.

Life Lessons

Some truths are universal and it doesn’t matter where you live.  “The fragrance always remains in the hand that gives the rose” – from a tj card by Shawn Byles. I packed to there and back again a ‘color stick’ gifted me by Hilary and every day as I use it – thoughts of her.  The day I left the City for the city, my cordless hot water kettle died.  It had been a gift from Kristin and TIm, years and years ago.  And every day that I used it, they fondly came to mind.  Imagine my surprise, delight and wave of other emotions, when I found a ‘toaster-sized package waiting for me at the Post Office.  Kristin had sent a new cordless hot water kettle for my first day back.  Now that is a winning idea and all the times I use it throughout the day, I think of them.  Giving is a wonderful thing.  It is the marvelous flipside of getting.

At the Airport

It is time to leave Portlandia, PDX, on an early morning flight, at the airport at 6:00 a.m.  It is time to think about boarding and  I return to the gate from whence I was, and at that moment, a text.  “Where are you?” For the moment I have forgotten that “Trotter”/Caleb from The Mousetrap is flying to NYC for an audition on Sunday.  What a great coincidence.  My beginning and ending in this fair city is bookended by the Mouse.

Trucks on the Road

What I wanted to show you was an empty  logging truck on the road.  These rigs are akin to horse mounted cowboys.  But it went by to fast for me to catch.  So humor me because I don’t have the skill to make this picture appear. Please copy and paste.  A magnificent picture.

http://s571.photobucket.com/user/norseman77/media/part%202/IMG_7693-1.jpg.html

When a truck is identified as a long haul, in the West it is a long haul.  Three trailers hooked to a cab also known as a road train. These long hauls are usually only on the interstate, not the two lane coast roads.  Logging truck dominate that route.

See this site.

http://forums.finalgear.com/general-automotive/the-big-rig-thread-53182/page-2/