On a somber note, I would like to tell you that earlier this week I was caught up in a Time Warp!  I kid you not!  They do exist: 


I realize that my admission to having been in a Time Warp places my credibility at risk with many readers – but it’s true, and furthermore many of you have experienced the same, possibly without being aware of it!  Earlier this week, Tuesday to be specific, I was to report for jury duty.  I probably take this obligation too personally, in that even before Monday, I was beginning to get all wound up, internally.  Rain had been forecast for Tuesday and Wednesday.  Drivers in Dallas are capable of some near unbelievable feats when driving on wet roads.  Also, as usual, I had to drive to downtown Dallas, an area in which I have spent little time, and am therefore fairly unfamiliar with the streets.  I could choose from either of two routes, Central Expressway or the toll road.  Central is where on several occasions, I have witnessed the actions of my guardian angel.  If you do not as yet believe in a guardian angel, let me suggest you do a diligent search on this stretch of road.  Sooner or later, you are bound to experience the protection of a heavenly being, or that of a being from your insurance company’s claims office.  The latter is definitely not a heavenly being.  Coupled with these uncertain circumstances, I was to report at eight thirty, A.M., so I rolled and tossed throughout Monday night.  Did I set the alarm clock properly?  Didn’t that thing malfunction a while back?  I don’t want to sleep through the alarm.  Should I leave earlier than I planned if it’s raining when I get up?  I have got to get some sleep!  My Gosh!  It’s only one twenty-seven.

Morning comes, finally, and I have slept very little.  It’s not raining.  I make my way to the toll road entrance, hit the on ramp, and start whipping and spurring.  We are going down town!  Fortunately there were no spectacular driving exhibitions.  I took the Commerce exit, maneuvered into the left lane and after a few blocks darted into a short radius turn leading to underground parking.  You know the drill, sharp turns of the narrow passage weaving through the parking spaces, negotiating ramps and repeating the procedure again.  Finally, I found a parking space, and rode the elevator to the level with a tunnel leading into the courts building.  Security was running a special that day – they were conducting near full body searches.  I even had to remove my wallet and my belt.  Passed with flying colors, and made my way to the Central Jury Room.  In due time we saw a very stimulating film about how lucky we were to have been chosen for jury service, and I was about to burst with civic pride by the time we were collectively “sworn in.”

This is when it happened!

Suddenly we were in the dreaded Time Warp!  Then it ALL came back!  I’ve been here before.  Collectively, every one of us in that room was a captive in a place where time stands still.  Just relax.  This is going to be a wasted day, waiting on very slow movement behind the veil of justice.  After slightly more than forty-five minutes, someone who works in the Twilight Zone Office began to call out numbers that had been assigned to us, and we were moved like a herd of cattle to another court building about a block away.  Take a seat on one of the benches here in the hall.  If there are not enough seats for everyone, stand up, sit in the floor, or that old childhood favorite, “Sit on your fist and lean back on your thumb.”  Through the small windows in the double doors leading into the courtroom, the judge and the attorneys could be observed, moving in slow motion.  What in the world were they doing that’s taking so long?  Didn’t they know that we were coming? 

Moving on…  We finally get into the courtroom, and the judge has us take “the oath” again.  It was the old double whammy.  I had never experienced a double before.  They were really serious about our rendering truthful answers to the questions that would be asked of us.  Then, we got a lengthy overview of a case that was expected to last for two or three weeks.  I couldn’t help but wonder if my mother knew where I was.  After the attorneys completed questioning the panel, a few of us were called back, on an individual basis, for more questions from the judge and the attorneys.  Earlier, I had explained my doubt about being able to serve in an unbiased manner on the case.  Finally, the judge asked me if I could put my past experiences aside and serve with impartiality.  I said, “I doubt it, because “the past” is the only place I have ever been.”  I think that pretty well wrapped up their questions for me.  In case you’re dying to know, on day two, after this final questioning, I was not selected to serve on the jury.  I “got out of Dodge” with great haste.

Every citizen is entitled to a trial before a jury of his “peers.”  Pardon me!  I do not associate with pot heads.  Neither do I know, or keep company with, someone who will beat up a senior citizen who owns a restaurant, or beats up his wife.  Jury of peers?  Wouldn’t that be people like the accused?  Have I been called on the right jury?

Innocent until proven guilty – I like the sound of this, and have heard it repeatedly through the years, but why is that guy at the attorney’s table wearing shiny bracelets and leg irons?  The bright orange coveralls do not seem to be quite appropriate attire to wear in court.  Apparently this fellow is “so innocent” that he has been given heavy duty jewelry and special “I’m innocent” clothes.  If this character is innocent now, what will his appearance be like if proven guilty?  Let’s see – maybe a ten pound charm for his leg bracelet, a new set of clothes with horizontal racing stripes and pictures (two poses) to send back home to mom.

Several years ago I was called on a jury panel that was sent to the same building mentioned above.  The court that we were sent to was on the sixth floor, and it took multiple elevator loads to get everyone up there.  If my memory serves me correctly, I was part of the second group to reach the sixth floor.  As we emerged from the elevator, the first group was coming back down the hall toward us.  “Go back.  Go back” we were told.  “What’s the problem someone inquired?”  The response that we received cleared up much of the mystery about the workings of the judicial system.  Now get this:  “That court no longer exists.  The judge retired last September!”  Spooky!  We had been called for the PHANTOM COURT!  Of course, when we returned to the Central Jury Room for further instructions, and relayed the lack of a functioning court, not a smile was seen.  Everything moved forward (stood still) in normal, emotionless, judicial efficiency. 

At this point, let’s examine “The Oath.”  Every jury panel is “sworn in.”  How long does this pledge to tell the truth last?  Seriously?  Does expiration occur the second that you are declined as a jury member?  If you DO serve, does the oath become null and void at the end of the trial?  The stimulating civic duty/pride film failed to explain the real issues relating to serving on a jury.  Does the oath expire just moments, or maybe a nanosecond before you are required to take the next one when you are called to serve again?  There must be some specific time that it loses its potency, like an inoculation, that necessitates its renewal.  Think about it.  The jury panel is always asked early on if anyone has a legitimate excuse for not serving, and then given opportunity to state your (very best) reason (that you can think of).  Bear in mind that for some reason you have noticed that the judge looks like that stupid Jerome Franks that sat across the isle from you in the fourth grade, and after hearing your excuse, the judge looks at you and asks, “Do you think I’m STUPID?  How you respond, “yes” or “no” is a proven way to create internal adhesions, while under oath.  This oath “thing” creates a tremendous mental drain, knowing that if your wife asks, “Did you eat those leftovers that I was counting on for tonight?” and you’re under oath, it’s like saying, “Here!  Give me that noose.  I’ll put it on myself!”  Under the circumstances, what other options are left?  And then there’s always the possibility of being under “active oath” and being asked, “Does this dress make me look fat?”  Being called for jury service can put a terrible strain on a conscientious person, and a marriage.

A few years ago I was selected to serve on a jury, and at the unsuspected end of the case, the judge called the jury back in to the jury box.  Everyone else had left the courtroom.  For our benefit, he was explaining a very unusual situation that had arisen during testimony, and he had declared a mistrial.  It turned out that one of the attorneys in the case had failed to pay his licensing fees for the BAR and was practicing law without a current license!  Was he fined, like an unlicensed driver?  Probably not.  With only slight observation, it can be noted that most organizations, fraternal orders, religions, governmental agencies, police departments, etc., do an extremely poor job of policing the actions of their own members.  You might say, they are “brothers” and exempt from prosecution that normally applies to the common man. After the judge gave us a brief explanation, he asked if any of us had any questions.  I raised my hand.  I didn’t want extensive, lingering, mental anguish due to the oath that I had taken.  I replied, “Every time that I have been called for jury duty, I have been required to take an oath to tell the truth.”  He nodded, knowingly.  “I was wondering if I could now be released from the oath because I have a new piece of equipment in my garage that my wife has not yet seen.”  He was very understanding.  Must have been a married man himself.  He laughed and said, “You are released.”  What a load off my mind!

As Christians, we shouldn’t have to be reminded to tell the truth.  Being honest should be a part of our basic makeup.  But, we should also bear in mind that we are equipped with brains, and should be prudent in answering questions that are asked us.  I think first and foremost about these in-your-face news reporters.  Just because “someone” asks a question, it does not mean that they always deserve an answer, or that we are obligated to acknowledge them.  “Silence” can often adequately explain a person’s position better than words.  (Not recommended for use with spouse.)  We should live our lives in such a manner that we can be open and honest with spouses, family and the people around us – with the possible exception of when you have a piece of new equipment in the garage.

Harley