Memoir

Some life events seem to demand the production of sound effects. When I received a summons to Jury Duty a few weeks ago, I acknowledged the event by emitting a sound somewhere between a gargle and a groan. I wasn’t looking forward to being confined in an enclosed space for hours with dozens of prospective jurors, waiting to learn if we would be assigned to a case. It didn’t help my attitude that someone close to me is in the habit of discarding their own jury summons envelopes, unopened. (I won’t identify the scofflaw by name; let’s just say we’re related by marriage.) Grudging attitude aside, I take this civic responsibility seriously, so I noted the date on my calendar and made plans to show up for duty. On the morning of my duty date, I packed my tote bag with bottled water, a snack, and a book to pass the time (per the advice on the jury summons instructions), before driving downtown to the civic center. After arrival at the courthouse, I parked my car in the “Jury” section and proceeded to the main entrance and through the security checkpoint. Following orientation in the Jury Lounge, events progressed quickly. The first panel of names was called to move upstairs to the courtrooms. My name wasn’t on the list. Sound effect = sigh of relief. Then the Jury Wrangler (the job title is my invention) announced that it might be several hours before the judge determined if another panel was required. We were at liberty to wait in the outer lobby or outside in the courtyard. We were free to wait outdoors! Sound effect = “yasss!” I grabbed my tote bag and walked outside into a photo-perfect California day: full sun in a cornflower blue sky, cool morning air wafting gently. Slender young trees in planters dotted the concrete hardscape, bordered by trimmed shrubbery. I found a stone bench in a secluded corner and seated myself on the sunny side. I pulled the book from my bag and held it on my lap while I surveyed my surroundings… finches and sparrows darting in the tree branches, then winging away and out of sight… the soft blue sky streaked with wispy clouds. After a minute or two, I tucked the book inside the bag. I leaned back on the bench and closed my eyes, luxuriating in the warmth of the sun on my face in the chilled air. I tuned in to the sound of leaves quivering in the light breeze, the birds chirping and skittering. And then I became aware of the sound of my breathing, slow and rhythmic, pulsing from my chest and through my head. When I opened my eyes, my gaze settled on the smooth black stones surrounding a tree planter, their dark color in stark contrast to the adjacent concrete. I focused on their glossy texture and ebony hue, and my thoughts drifted… jury duty… dinner plans… family matters… errands… shopping lists… appointments… and then into the past… old friends, departed relatives, childhood memories. My reverie was interrupted by a male voice emanating from an overhead speaker system: It was the Jury Wrangler. The judge had decided not to call a second panel; those of us remaining were released from our tour of duty. Sound effect = exhale of exultation. I glanced at my watch. I estimated that I’d been sitting outside for about twenty minutes. My watch disagreed with my calculation. I had walked outside after the first panel was called at 10 a.m. According to my watch, the time was now 12:02 p.m. Had I been seated on the sun-drenched bench, my gaze in thrall to shiny rocks and my consciousness captivated by musings, for TWO HOURS? I confirmed the time on my cell phone: 12:03 p.m. I pondered this revelation in silent amazement. Some life events resonate, even without sound effects. ________________________________