An unfortunate part of jury duty is that no cameras are allowed in the courtroom. Therefore I am reduced (literally, as you can see to the left) to finding renderings on the internet of jury-associated images. And though the oath administered in our court does not require the witness’s hand to be placed on a Bible, it does include “So help me God.” So He’s involved in the process, even if the book He wrote isn’t.
And today…I got to administer that oath for the first of two times! Because my assistant foreman duties were called upon! B. had another obligation for the afternoon, which meant that I stepped up to the plate called Foreman. It was a role I had been dreading and anticipating for a week and a half. Dreading because I hate being in front of an audience that can evaluate and judge me as readily as I do others; anticipating because it meant I got to ring the bell. And be, let’s face it, Really Important.
Luckily for all of us, A.Hole was not there. But we heard two cases and voted on one during my tenure, and no disasters occurred. Which means I deem the whole venture a success. I stayed awake, only succumbed to a couple of ring-gazing moments, and rang that bell with conviction. And while I paid closer attention to the cases than I ever had before, I realized something. One of the reasons why I’ve been so pro-civic duty. Here it is: jury duty basically consists of listening to stories all day. And then judging them. Now I may not be too good at listening, but I do love stories. (And judging, a little too much.) And since one of the themes of my life in New York has been coming to terms with the fact that the story I “wrote” for my own life has been mercifully tossed aside and replaced with a much more masterfully written one, I have become a more willing observer of stories. Watching them unfold, rather than dictating them. Waiting for the tying up of loose ends instead of grabbing my own string and forcing my own conclusion. The truth comes out in the end, and it’s always worth waiting for.