Sunday Morning Random Thoughts–Supplemental Tuesday Jury Duty Edition

I received my jury duty notice a few weeks ago and I did what most people would do–I immediately announced it on Facebook. I received in the following days a half-dozen emails with about thirty techniques to get out of serving, some more ethical than others. I used none of them because I actually do consider it my civic duty and because I just know one of these days I’m going to get seated on the U.S. Womens’ Beach Volleyball Team streaking case. I’ll sit through a dozen cases involving pork chops hidden in the pants in the hopes of getting that one great case.

I reported for duty this morning. I paid attention to the instructions on the notice and arrived about fifteen minutes early. I did not wear jeans or sweatpants or a T-shirt with an offensive message. My hair was combed and my beard was trimmed. I was trying to look as juror-like as possible. I sat down next to a man wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt that made reference to women and potato chips. When the court employee pressed play on the twenty year old instructional video I paid attention–enough so in fact to notice that the seventy-five year old bailiff in the video was the same guy working today. After the video, I sat quietly reading the reading material the instructions on the notice informed me I was allowed to bring with me (The Best Buddhist Writing, 2010). Finally, the bailiff from the video shuffled in and began mumbling unintelligibly the juror numbers for those who were to line up and proceed to the nearest courtroom. Halfway through the list, the bailiff turned and left the room, continuing to read the numbers to himself as he wandered down the hall. A few minutes later, a court clerk came in looking for the twenty-four jurors that were supposed to have followed the bailiff into the courtroom. After she had led us to the courtroom, she went in search of the bailiff.

Once in the courtroom, the “voi dere”–a process consisting of a series of questions intended to determine if any potential jurors might be unfit in some way to sit on the jury–began. In response to any juror’s affirmative answer to a question, the judge would repeat the same follow-up question: “Do you believe you can ignore those experiences and training and render a verdict based solely on the evidence presented in this case?” Every prospective juror faced with that question answered “yes.” This actually bothered me a lot.

One of the voi dere questions was whether or not any of the prospective jurors were doctors or nurses or had any formal medical training. Several said yes, but then agreed they could ignore their training and experience and render a verdict based solely on the evidence presented in the case. But what if some of the evidence presented was medically unsound? Say the prosecution presented what appeared to be a damning piece of medical evidence that could convict the accused, and say the defense did not adequately discredit that piece of evidence. Should a doctor on the jury, whose experience and training allows him to know the piece of medical evidence is unsound, base his judgment solely on the prosecution’s successful use of the evidence? After all, that is what he claimed under oath he could do during the voi dere.

After the voi dere was over, the attorneys from each side approached the bench and spoke for a few minutes with the judge. They called two prospective jurors to the bench and asked additional questions. After they had finished, they handed the court clerk a list of juror numbers acceptable to both sides to be seated for the trial. I was not one of them. As I was leaving the courtroom, though, I did notice the guy in the T-shirt and sweatpants was taking his place in the jury box. I think he was a doctor.

Sunday Morning Random Thoughts–My Tangential Approach to Life Edition

Although I’ve never been formally diagnosed, I have a strong suspicion that I suffer from ADD. (Yes, here is where I should go, “Oh, look! A squirrel!” and go running off in another direction.) I can’t do any one thing without it breaking down into a half dozen other things. It’s not just the typical distractedness most people experience, where I have to check my email, my text messages, my Facebook every five minutes. It’s something a little deeper than that. For instance, I’m reading six or seven books concurrently. Not a big deal, you say? Guess again. My concurrently may be a little more literal than you think. I sometimes put down one book after a page or two just to pick up the other book and read a page or two there. Something in my brain triggers and I have a sudden urge to see what’s going on in the other book. It’s the literary equivalent of channel surfing. Any task I begin has the potential to spur a half dozen other tasks, which for some reason must begin immediately. Those tasks in turn can each often lead to another half dozen new tasks that must also begin immediately. If you were to reduce me to a mathematical model, I’m a human fractal.

Recently, I’ve taken on the task of really cleaning up/out my home. This is less a spring cleaning than it is a mid-life cleansing. I’m not saying everything must go, but my daughter has had to twice walk back to the house after I carried the chair she was sitting in to the curb on trash day. Each time I’ve had the urge to carry her back to the curb. While the process of such a cleaning can be difficult for all the typical reasons—sentimental value attached to objects, the idea something may come in handy again someday, the fear an unidentifiable object is a vital piece to something else—I also have to deal with my tangential approach to life. Here is a typical sequence of digressions: I awake on a Saturday morning and put my damn shoes on (topic for another post) and decide on a large project. Today I am going to clear out that corner in the living room where I have been piling miscellaneous objects for which I can’t seem to find a proper home. As I’m sorting through the various objects I find both my toolbox and the file box where I keep recent bills, pay statements, etc. They are both covered in dust, so I decide to carry them to the kitchen and wipe them off. Now that they are clean I figure I should sort through the bills on my desk and file them in the now clean file box. While I’m at it, I can round up the various screwdrivers and wrenches that are scattered around the house and toss them in the toolbox. As I’m working on my desk and organizing the bills I plan to file in the box I wiped off after finding it in the corner of the room I started to clean, I realize I’ve got five or six books cluttering up the desk. So I decide to put the books on my bookshelf in my bedroom. My bookshelf is a mess. As I’m working on my bookshelf to make room for the books I found on my desk where I was organizing the bills I plan to file in the box I wiped off after finding it in the corner of the room I started to clean, I find a stack of CDs I never returned to the CD rack . The CD rack is disorganized. As I start to organize the CD rack so I can put away the CDs I found on the bookshelf where I plan to put the books I found on my desk where I planned to file my bills in the box I wiped off after finding it in the corner of the room I started to clean, I discover a coffee mug and a wine glass. I decide to carry those down to the kitchen. There I find my toolbox and remember I wanted to collect the various screwdrivers and wrenches that are scattered around the house. . .