this morning

This morning I was assigned to serve jury duty at the municipal court.  One of the many benefits of living where I do meant that I could easily walk there from my house -- less than 15 minutes.  The time I needed to report meant that I could sleep later and also take Mallika to daycare beforehand.  Very nice.

It always pays to change your daily routine, the same way that it always pays to change your process or aesthetic as an artist.

It is an incredibly humid day today and one weather report forecasts a high of 98 this afternoon.  But the morning is still tolerable and I walked south toward the hub of government, the law, and business.  These days, there's not a whole lot of difference between them.  I saw a few office workers, a few construction workers, a few homeless people, and a lot of guys in flappy suits making their way in the general direction of the Capitol, and even one with his car key in his mouth as he squinted at the parking meter, the back door of his shiny white SUV open to the sidewalk.  I saw what I thought would make a very good photograph -- the hazy hot air with the Charlie's sign with its new pride rainbow in front of the dome of 1st UMC in front of the dome of the Capitol.

I said good morning to everyone I passed and noted their responses.  I saw the sandwich shop already lining up their shredded lettuce, veggies, sauces, meats and cheeses for the office lunch rush.  I saw the country store that's been boarded up forever and the big graffiti on the inside wall.  I noticed that the TX State Teachers' Association and AFL-CIO offices are right in the middle of all the government buildings for the county and state and the lawyers' offices and bail bondsmen's shops.  People in suits come out of the swinging doors of the AFL-CIO building; one of them is wearing a cowboy hat.

I turn to go west toward the criminal justice center and recall the various times I'd been at the county commissions' court when I was an organizer -- public forums and scheduled meetings, lots of citizen pressure being put on those elected officials, sometimes with success.  Jobs, water, prison, law enforcement, immigration -- those were the primary issues.  The county is an interesting governmental entity, simultaneously high-falutin' in that old-timey Texan kind of way and also very very lowbrow.  The lighting was always bad in there and the main conference room always had boxes stacked up in it.

The criminal justice center reminds me of the night spent out on the sidewalk after the big march to protest the start of the Iraq war, though I admit that I really am beginning to lose track of which war is which and which war is supposedly not a war anymore.  Friends and acquaintances were locked up for civil disobedience and we were waiting and keeping watch.  What I remember best from that night was the verbal and emotional choque between Mohan and an irritated, angry white guy who was walking along the sidewalk.  I don't remember the words exchanged, but I felt how things could turn on a dime -- a blow, a punch, a kick.

This morning as I approached the courthouse entrance, I heard someone outside practicing the piano and knew it was one of the ones that's been put around the city by an arts collective in town.  When I left, I stopped by.  I think it was the same guy practicing.

In the lobby hallway of the courts, a lot of white people waited, a lot of young men -- mostly Latino and Black -- talked to flappy, floppy lawyers.  or, rather, listened to them, and looked over a lot of printed material.  People went in and out of doors a whole lot.

When we were finally called into the court room, the judge, a white woman, sat up on the dias.  Every last potential juror was white.  Every last person already in the courtroom to our right was a person of color.

We sat down and the judge greeted us as if we were at an amusement park ride.  She commented that she knew a lot of us, and then informed us that she had already made it through her relatively short docket and our services were not needed.  She thanked us for our service and we all got up and left.  I walked home.