Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Awkward Reuben
Last Friday, I spent the day "demo-ing" sausages at work. During the first hours of the demo, a man—let’s call him Reuben—approached my station holding a jar of mango vinaigrette from the produce department.
"Should I buy this?" R asked.
I nodded, "Yes, it's great!"
Dumb answer.
R grinned/glared at me. "So, you've tried it then?"
Oopla. (One white lie in retail is perfectly acceptable--if not necessary. But, two? I just couldn't.)
"Ugh. Let's open it and give 'er a try," I said, remembering from my training that we can open a product for a customer to taste.
I called Cedric (who works in produce) over, and he brought some carrots to try the dressing with. It was delicious. R gave my arm a tight squeeze.
"Thank you, Jaime. Thank you. I will buy it. Thank you."
A few minutes later, R brushed past my station again and whisperingly (made-up word) asked, "Did ya miss me?" He then became Awkward Reuben. You'd have to see this gentleman to understand. He was originally Reuben with a small build, flannel shirt, and thinning hair who asked about dressing. Arm squeeze, no problem. Perhaps he was really into his veggies and wanted them to play dress-up with something other than ranch. No problem. But, his question made it more about veggies.
"You weren't gone long enough, sir!" I chuckled (remembering my mom's favorite thing to say to us when we wanted to call an estranged boy: "How can he miss you if you keep bugging him?").
I don't remember the exact point I set out to make here, but the bottom line is, I anticipate I'll soon have many more interesting stories to tell.
"Should I buy this?" R asked.
I nodded, "Yes, it's great!"
Dumb answer.
R grinned/glared at me. "So, you've tried it then?"
Oopla. (One white lie in retail is perfectly acceptable--if not necessary. But, two? I just couldn't.)
"Ugh. Let's open it and give 'er a try," I said, remembering from my training that we can open a product for a customer to taste.
I called Cedric (who works in produce) over, and he brought some carrots to try the dressing with. It was delicious. R gave my arm a tight squeeze.
"Thank you, Jaime. Thank you. I will buy it. Thank you."
A few minutes later, R brushed past my station again and whisperingly (made-up word) asked, "Did ya miss me?" He then became Awkward Reuben. You'd have to see this gentleman to understand. He was originally Reuben with a small build, flannel shirt, and thinning hair who asked about dressing. Arm squeeze, no problem. Perhaps he was really into his veggies and wanted them to play dress-up with something other than ranch. No problem. But, his question made it more about veggies.
"You weren't gone long enough, sir!" I chuckled (remembering my mom's favorite thing to say to us when we wanted to call an estranged boy: "How can he miss you if you keep bugging him?").
I don't remember the exact point I set out to make here, but the bottom line is, I anticipate I'll soon have many more interesting stories to tell.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Cedric
There's this man named Cedric. I've known him for two days and seen more life in him than most anyone I know. Perhaps it's because he's simply lived more life. Or because he skips the hi-how-are-yous and just says it.
"Are you a dancer?" he asked me.
"I was as a little girl," I said.
He smiled. "You still got it."
This was our second and longest conversation. Do our newest friends see us the best?
He laughs more in one hour than I have in my entire life. (I laugh a lot.) Every story he tells, every story he hears, he laughs. He laughs before, after, and in between. He laughs when it isn't funny. He is tall, black, and comes from a big family. He is from the south but doesn't have a chip on his shoulder. He doesn't impress yet leaves an impression. He eats things like fruit tarts for lunch.
Who is this person? He's probably someone's grandpa. I hope he's missed where he's from.
"Are you a dancer?" he asked me.
"I was as a little girl," I said.
He smiled. "You still got it."
This was our second and longest conversation. Do our newest friends see us the best?
He laughs more in one hour than I have in my entire life. (I laugh a lot.) Every story he tells, every story he hears, he laughs. He laughs before, after, and in between. He laughs when it isn't funny. He is tall, black, and comes from a big family. He is from the south but doesn't have a chip on his shoulder. He doesn't impress yet leaves an impression. He eats things like fruit tarts for lunch.
Who is this person? He's probably someone's grandpa. I hope he's missed where he's from.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Arizona
Josh and I spent the week before Easter Sunday with my grandparents in beautiful Phoenix. Our road trip to Arizona was long overdue; the rest of my family lives in Minnesota, where we have been a few times since being married.
We loved our time with Grandpa Don and Grandma Shirley. Our first full day greeted us with temps in the mid-90s. It was so nice to temporarily escape the freezing winds in Colorado. (My grandma says she gets cold when the temp drops to 70 in AZ. I go without a coat around 45 degrees in CO!) We filled our days with a drive through Apache Trail (It was very scary for me. There were even a few guard rails with words written on them like "We will miss you, Dave."), trips to Trader Joe's and In-N-Out, a day at the Grand Canyon. And, who can resist a quick trip to the flea market for some bling-o-riffic sunglasses? My grandma also bought me a spray tan and highlighted my hair. I felt like a new woman!
Of course, my grandma's hospitality topped the list of memories (Why goes Grandma's house always seem impossibly clean? Is there some special line of cleaning products unknown to anyone below the age of 70? And, why does Grandma's food always taste better? Grandma, if you are reading this, I want your secrets!), and she and I shared lots of stories and memories throughout the week.
Another highlight of the trip was seeing my childhood dog, Sami. My grandparents took her in a couple of months ago for my dad. She's only nine and has some good years left!
Josh and I started the drive back to Colorado on Easter Sunday. We wanted to stay in Arizona longer, but my sister Mel happened to be in Colorado Springs for one more night, and I really wanted to see her! (She and her friends drove down from MN a few days earlier to visit.)
Now we're back home and enjoying the snowy weather yet again! Thanks for hosting us, Grams! I have a lot to learn from you. :)
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Jury duty
Have you ever wanted to tell a big story but feared you would leave out important details or include meaningless ones which would pollute your real experience? Have you ever wanted to tell a story but wanted more for the experience to remain untouched?
I have a little story. I can't promise I will tell it in just the right way or that you will walk away with the "wow" feeling, but here it is. Why should I tell it? I'm just so humbled and thankful. In October of last year, I saw our justice system in action, and I was proud to be a part of it. Sure, our system fails. It sometimes both faults and protects the wrong people, but our system has a lot to teach us.
Why did this experience change me? It was just jury duty, after all. Everyone will be called in at one point or another, and some may even be chosen to sit on a 3-, 5-, or 12-person panel to decide on an individual's future. It's not like I was specially chosen for this role, right? I don't know. It happened too perfectly in the midst of human weakness. The waiting, the selection process, the trial, the deliberation, the momentary friendships. God could have used anyone, but He used us.
I've never been summoned before for jury service, so when I got the notice in the mail, I was somewhat uncomfortable. One of my first thoughts were, "What if I get lost downtown?" I get lost easily. Well, the day came, and I arrived at the courthouse a bit early and I was happy and relieved I found everything in time. I had no idea what to expect. I checked in and waited like the other few hundred people who wondered how long they would be inconvenienced.
The first group of jurors was called randomly. Probably 30 or more people were called. I wanted to be called! (I'm sure it was something like waiting to be picked for a team on the playground, hoping against all hope.) We watched a short educational video earlier and I thought the process was so big, bigger than me, and I wanted to be a part of it. Suddenly I did not care about how this long process interfered with my day; I thought about the many parties who had waited so long for this day to come: the defendants, the plaintiffs, etc. I knew this day was important for so many people not unlike me.
A second group was called, a smaller group this time. I got picked! There were 18 of us, and we were to be narrowed down to 6 for a misdemeanor trial. Our clerk lead us straight to a courtroom where the defendant, his attorney, and the DA were already waiting. WHAT?! I couldn't believe it. I tried to forget about all the CourtTV I'd watched growing up. I tried to take in the moment for what it was: reality. The "voir dire" process began; the judge polled us and the attorneys asked us more specific questions. I was terrified. When it came time for me to answer certain questions, my nervousness shone through, which I thought would eliminate me. I remember looking at the defendant, listening to the questions asked, and wanting so badly to be a part of this case for no apparent reason.
18 became 6. I was still sitting!
The trial began before we could get a break! Each attorney presented his opening statement, and I tried to take it all in. Supposedly, the defendant "Dave" (a bail-bondsman) initiated contact without consent, twice in a few hours, with "Laura," a woman (who he bonded out of jail). After opening statements, we were allowed to go to lunch. When we returned, the trial became even more surreal. The plaintiff was the first of the witnesses. I will never forget her. Interestingly, she was already a five-time felon. We tried to put aside her past as we listen to her testimony. We saw her cry, shake, push back her tangled brown hair with handcuffed wrists. Her dirty white shirt and orange suit told me so much of her story. The trial itself lasted through the end of the day, and by five o'clock, we had not begun the deliberation process. There was just enough time for closing statements, and it was time to go home. Our decision would be easy. This "Dave" guy scared some of us, and one juror even whispered, "Let's just convict him and get it over with!"
The second morning of duty arrived, and I sat in my warm car in the juror parking lot before I went in. I asked the Lord to reveal the answer to us. Give us wisdom. I hardly slept the night before, worried about what we would eventually choose for the defendant's future. I sensed he was guilty, then I sensed he wasn't. What if we didn't make the right choice? I feared our deliberation would look something like a scene from "12 Angry Men." What if it's up to me to change the jurors' minds?
9 o'clock arrived, and we began deliberation. It was nothing like "12 Angry Men." Everyone had the same general feelings except an older woman, Loretta, who had a gut feeling "he did it." Another juror, Doug, admitted that his gut said "guilty" as well, but there were just "too many holes in the [victim's] story".
A few hours passed, and we knew we couldn't convict a man based on gut feelings. We couldn't settle on such a heavy label for this man without being sure. So, we decided he was "not guilty" on both counts (two separate incidences). We waited a little while for our clerk to return to our deliberation room to escort us back into the courtroom.
(Note: Everyone in the courtroom [judge included] stands for the jury when they enter the room...what a feeling of honor, somewhat undeserved, and totally surreal.)
When the verdicts were read for each count, I looked over at the defendant. After the first count, he showed restrained relief; after the second count, he was crying. His face was red, and he unabashedly wiped tears from his eyes. Shortly after this, our duty was fulfilled, and I shook hands with both attorneys and said "you did a great job" to both of them. I exchanged nods with the defendant.
The trial was over. We'd only been away from our jobs and families for one-and-a-half days, but it felt like a lifetime. It also felt like we'd blinked and everything was over. I wanted to hold on to what I felt at that moment. My heart was so heavy, and I was so thankful. I hadn't quite absorbed everything. This man went free after two years of waiting for this trial.
When I walked away from the courthouse, I felt a little sad--like I was leaving this place that I had called home for not even two days. I so enjoyed the experience. Everything was over, and I was back to my real life at work. Not long after being back at the office, I received a text from Linda, another juror, who said the defendant approached her outside the courthouse after the trial ended. He thanked her and us for giving back his life. I called Linda back, and she gave me more details about their conversation. He had confirmed a few doubts we had about the plaintiff's testimony, and told her what could have become of his life had he been convicted. He could have lost his business and gone to jail for the rest of his life, all over what may have happened within a few minutes. He told her, "These past two years have been a nightmare."
I consider what happened to be little miracle, because it could have happened differently. At the same time, I'm humbled to think that just because something isn't what I expect doesn't make it miracle. Or does it? I felt so certain that we would decide a different fate for the defendant. Also, it was amazing how six completely different people came together for one cause. There was hardly any dissent, and any disagreement between us was frank and handled properly. We became good friends in that short time.
It was over, and my heart was heavy and so thankful. I was so glad to have been a part of the process. I wanted to bottle that feeling. It would prove useful when I feel apathetic about life--like a spankin', a swift reminder that life is bigger. Someone's life was in our hands.
Because of God's grace, his nightmare was over and a new chapter began.
I have a little story. I can't promise I will tell it in just the right way or that you will walk away with the "wow" feeling, but here it is. Why should I tell it? I'm just so humbled and thankful. In October of last year, I saw our justice system in action, and I was proud to be a part of it. Sure, our system fails. It sometimes both faults and protects the wrong people, but our system has a lot to teach us.
Why did this experience change me? It was just jury duty, after all. Everyone will be called in at one point or another, and some may even be chosen to sit on a 3-, 5-, or 12-person panel to decide on an individual's future. It's not like I was specially chosen for this role, right? I don't know. It happened too perfectly in the midst of human weakness. The waiting, the selection process, the trial, the deliberation, the momentary friendships. God could have used anyone, but He used us.
I've never been summoned before for jury service, so when I got the notice in the mail, I was somewhat uncomfortable. One of my first thoughts were, "What if I get lost downtown?" I get lost easily. Well, the day came, and I arrived at the courthouse a bit early and I was happy and relieved I found everything in time. I had no idea what to expect. I checked in and waited like the other few hundred people who wondered how long they would be inconvenienced.
The first group of jurors was called randomly. Probably 30 or more people were called. I wanted to be called! (I'm sure it was something like waiting to be picked for a team on the playground, hoping against all hope.) We watched a short educational video earlier and I thought the process was so big, bigger than me, and I wanted to be a part of it. Suddenly I did not care about how this long process interfered with my day; I thought about the many parties who had waited so long for this day to come: the defendants, the plaintiffs, etc. I knew this day was important for so many people not unlike me.
A second group was called, a smaller group this time. I got picked! There were 18 of us, and we were to be narrowed down to 6 for a misdemeanor trial. Our clerk lead us straight to a courtroom where the defendant, his attorney, and the DA were already waiting. WHAT?! I couldn't believe it. I tried to forget about all the CourtTV I'd watched growing up. I tried to take in the moment for what it was: reality. The "voir dire" process began; the judge polled us and the attorneys asked us more specific questions. I was terrified. When it came time for me to answer certain questions, my nervousness shone through, which I thought would eliminate me. I remember looking at the defendant, listening to the questions asked, and wanting so badly to be a part of this case for no apparent reason.
18 became 6. I was still sitting!
The trial began before we could get a break! Each attorney presented his opening statement, and I tried to take it all in. Supposedly, the defendant "Dave" (a bail-bondsman) initiated contact without consent, twice in a few hours, with "Laura," a woman (who he bonded out of jail). After opening statements, we were allowed to go to lunch. When we returned, the trial became even more surreal. The plaintiff was the first of the witnesses. I will never forget her. Interestingly, she was already a five-time felon. We tried to put aside her past as we listen to her testimony. We saw her cry, shake, push back her tangled brown hair with handcuffed wrists. Her dirty white shirt and orange suit told me so much of her story. The trial itself lasted through the end of the day, and by five o'clock, we had not begun the deliberation process. There was just enough time for closing statements, and it was time to go home. Our decision would be easy. This "Dave" guy scared some of us, and one juror even whispered, "Let's just convict him and get it over with!"
The second morning of duty arrived, and I sat in my warm car in the juror parking lot before I went in. I asked the Lord to reveal the answer to us. Give us wisdom. I hardly slept the night before, worried about what we would eventually choose for the defendant's future. I sensed he was guilty, then I sensed he wasn't. What if we didn't make the right choice? I feared our deliberation would look something like a scene from "12 Angry Men." What if it's up to me to change the jurors' minds?
9 o'clock arrived, and we began deliberation. It was nothing like "12 Angry Men." Everyone had the same general feelings except an older woman, Loretta, who had a gut feeling "he did it." Another juror, Doug, admitted that his gut said "guilty" as well, but there were just "too many holes in the [victim's] story".
A few hours passed, and we knew we couldn't convict a man based on gut feelings. We couldn't settle on such a heavy label for this man without being sure. So, we decided he was "not guilty" on both counts (two separate incidences). We waited a little while for our clerk to return to our deliberation room to escort us back into the courtroom.
(Note: Everyone in the courtroom [judge included] stands for the jury when they enter the room...what a feeling of honor, somewhat undeserved, and totally surreal.)
When the verdicts were read for each count, I looked over at the defendant. After the first count, he showed restrained relief; after the second count, he was crying. His face was red, and he unabashedly wiped tears from his eyes. Shortly after this, our duty was fulfilled, and I shook hands with both attorneys and said "you did a great job" to both of them. I exchanged nods with the defendant.
The trial was over. We'd only been away from our jobs and families for one-and-a-half days, but it felt like a lifetime. It also felt like we'd blinked and everything was over. I wanted to hold on to what I felt at that moment. My heart was so heavy, and I was so thankful. I hadn't quite absorbed everything. This man went free after two years of waiting for this trial.
When I walked away from the courthouse, I felt a little sad--like I was leaving this place that I had called home for not even two days. I so enjoyed the experience. Everything was over, and I was back to my real life at work. Not long after being back at the office, I received a text from Linda, another juror, who said the defendant approached her outside the courthouse after the trial ended. He thanked her and us for giving back his life. I called Linda back, and she gave me more details about their conversation. He had confirmed a few doubts we had about the plaintiff's testimony, and told her what could have become of his life had he been convicted. He could have lost his business and gone to jail for the rest of his life, all over what may have happened within a few minutes. He told her, "These past two years have been a nightmare."
I consider what happened to be little miracle, because it could have happened differently. At the same time, I'm humbled to think that just because something isn't what I expect doesn't make it miracle. Or does it? I felt so certain that we would decide a different fate for the defendant. Also, it was amazing how six completely different people came together for one cause. There was hardly any dissent, and any disagreement between us was frank and handled properly. We became good friends in that short time.
It was over, and my heart was heavy and so thankful. I was so glad to have been a part of the process. I wanted to bottle that feeling. It would prove useful when I feel apathetic about life--like a spankin', a swift reminder that life is bigger. Someone's life was in our hands.
Because of God's grace, his nightmare was over and a new chapter began.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Wordless
I'm working on a few posts, none of which I'm satisfied with! What's going on? I think my brain is made of scrambled eggs. With cheese and peppers.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Graduation
What a day. Last Friday Josh and I and Josh's parents made our way to the ceremony, and it flew by! So many names were called that I can barely remember the brisk walk across the stage. We then had dinner at Ted's (of course). After dinner, I went to Jack Quinn's with two close friends from highschool. Our time together was fun and meaningful.
After graduating, I now feel like I can travel a little lighter. No books to lug around. No papers to write. Yet, I feel strange when I think I can no longer disappear in my never-ending homework, lack of free time, my "student" status. Traveling a little lighter means leaving what I used to hide behind. I've never felt more adult. Turning 18, graduating highschool, starting college, turning 21, even getting married did not give me this kind of adult-y feeling.
It is a feeling that my life can be mundane if I allow it. It's now up to me to make something of myself. My free time won't be spent in class. I was successful by default then, and now I must decide what to do next. In the meantime, I will rest. I feel like I can breathe for the first time in a while!
Josh started his new job last week. It seems as if we have been in separate worlds these past few weeks. I can't wait for Christmas! We will enjoy a simpler holiday this year. Josh and I will be alone on Christmas Eve, and we'll spend most of Christmas Day with his parents eating gumbo and seafood chowder.
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