I shouldn’t be here today.
I should be listening to testimony from a jury box, attempting to determine the guilt or innocence of a fellow man. Said man is presumed innocent until proven guilty, sayeth the law.
Fortunately or unfortunately–I shall not be determining this. Along with a dozen or so others yours truly was ousted, sent packing, shown the courtroom door. After intense questioning and 2 1/2 hours of jury panel seating yesterday morning, I’m a free woman once again.
I agonize over the thought of declaring someone guilty or innocent. Too many cases exist of wrong decisions. However (before anyone gets started with the opposite viewpoint) I am also glad to live in a society where–hopefully, sometimes–a panel of ordinary folks can assist in coming to a fair verdict.
As for tossing someone in prison without attempting to heal a dark heart, well, that’s a topic for another day.
Since I have to go to work today–no “fun” in the jury box permitted–I am going to issue a judgment.
Against this winter.
Guilty of being too hard, too long (OK, that’s biased, since it’s only January), too cold, too snowy.
Many of you know of my extreme love for the Laura Ingalls Wilder “Little House on the Prairie” books. I read them six times as a kid. Our son, poor wee Christopher, was forced to listen to Laura’s adventures–even “These Happy Golden Years” before kindergarten. I remember him sucking his thumb whilst the Ingalls family lived in a dugout on the Banks of Plum Creek.
You all recall “The Hard Winter”, don’t you? (Please do not even admit to NOT reading this series. Go read right now, and then return to finish this blog.)
Back in those pioneer days of 1880-81, when the Ingalls family lived in a storefront in De Smet, South Dakota, the winter storms blew fierce and strong and life-threatening. Children couldn’t attend school due to frigid cold, wind whipped sideways preventing navigating down the town’s main street, and the townsfolk almost starved to death when the train couldn’t get through with supplies.
OK, OK, we’re wimps these days, aren’t we?
We were complaining yesterday because our organic buying club delivery didn’t include our ordered avocados! Never mind that we purchased curly kale, sweet red lettuce, mangoes from heaven-knows-where, plump portobello mushrooms, exotic orange peppers. Where were those avocados, darn it? Why didn’t they arrive?
We’re sighing and moaning about the endless cold, the endless stoking of the wood stove, the endless snow…but, truly, we’re not in imminent danger like the early-day pioneers. OK, somebody could fall off the roof while shoveling the massive amounts of snow. Yes, we’re inconvenienced because we can’t always meet our friends for lunch when planned. Roads lie slick with snow and ice. Oh, and some days we can’t maneuver out the driveway before plowing. Our biggest challenges, besides driving conditions and heart attack while shoveling are (a) bitching and (b) Cabin Fever.
I’m rethinking about this guilty verdict. Is Old Man Winter really guilty? Perhaps he is innocent. Perhaps he’s not so bad after all. Gosh, it’s so hard to decide.
Perhaps it’s all the way you decide to view it…
What about you?
Would you find it easy or difficult to declare someone’s guilt or innocence? Do you think Old Man Winter is guilty this year?