FROM BUMMER TO BREAK-IN TO BOUNTIFUL
BIRTHDAY
BIRTHDAY
A good man measures his life not in the number of his years, but in the quality of his friends. Todd Stocker
This
year, I was on course for one bummer of a birthday.
About
10 days ago I received a charming card from the lovely folks at the circuit
court's office in Kissimmee. This unexpected invitation requested that I show
up at 7:30 a.m. on May 14th - the morning of my birthday - and then spend the
rest of the day with a few hundred new friends enjoying jury service.
I
looked on the back of this card and sure enough, it definitely didn't come from
Hallmark.
Don't
get me wrong - I think the whole concept of juries is one of the greatest ideas
ever to spring from the human mind. As Thomas Jefferson wrote, "I consider
trial by jury as the only anchor ever yet imagined by man, by which a
government can be held to the principles of its constitution." It's an
amazing way to protect ordinary citizens from an overreaching government.
Personally,
I'd love to serve on a jury. I think it would be a most fascinating experience.
But in my case, I know I'll never get the chance because any lawyer worth his
salt will boot me from the jury pool in a heartbeat. An intelligent trial
lawyer simply does not allow another attorney to "contaminate" the
jury with his own ideas of justice.
Consequently,
a call to jury service is for me just a wasted day: I can't do my civic duty
because of my profession, but I can't refuse to show up either. It's a classic
Catch-22.
I
made massive changes to my work calendar to accommodate my birthday assignment
and made plans to hopefully spend the day Monday in the jury waiting room doing
something, anything, productive.
On
Friday night, Marcie and I retired for the evening, looking forward to a quiet
Mother's Day weekend leading up to jury-duty Monday.
About
11:30 pm we were abruptly awakened by loud banging on our front door and
someone repeatedly ringing the doorbell. We were scared! I frantically pulled
on a shirt and Marcie grabbed the phone to call 911 if necessary. She warned me
to look through the peephole before I opened the door.
But
before I could get to the front door, I heard the garage door open amid the
sound of deep male voices. Then I was REALLY scared.
"They're
coming in through the garage," I hollered at Marcie. "Call the
police." I ran to the door from the kitchen to the garage and just as I
arrived someone started opening that door. I put my shoulder against it to try
to push them back, but they were too strong. The door and I were pushed
backwards.
Then
they started laughing.
"Hi,
dad. Did we surprise you?"
Did
they ever!!!!!
It
was Evan and Paul, our two youngest children. They had secretly flown to
Orlando, Evan from Atlanta and Paul from Logan, Utah, to spend time with us for
Mother's Day and my birthday. They knew how to open the garage door and from there
how to get into the house.
Fortunately,
having heard the laughter, Marcie didn't call 911.
After
we chastised them for scaring us witless, we settled down to talk late into the
night. We love spending time with our children.
For
the next two days, they cooked for us (and they're both excellent cooks and
bakers), cleaned for us, and even went with me on a little impromptu service
project for a single mom who was in the hospital and needed her yard cleaned
up. What wonderful, thoughtful, helpful men they have turned out to be.
All
weekend we ate and talked to our hearts' content, thankful to live in such a
bountiful land with wonderful family and friends. We enjoyed a fine and fancy
dinner late Sunday afternoon; they made me a four-layer chocolate cake for my
birthday; and then they hopped on planes to fly back to work Monday morning.
Marcie and I were left with tons of yummy leftovers and a mountain of sweet
memories.
As
expected, I wasn't needed to serve on any jury, and I found some useful ways to
spend my time, including writing this article. My 66th birthday was a joyful
occasion. I'll always remember this one, my "bummer - break-in -
bountiful" birthday.
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