You Be the Judge

Returning to my hometown after being away 35 years, brought advantages and challenges as does any major life change. It wasn’t long before the City stuck it to me by sending a Jury Duty notice. Staring at the notice, I was instantly bent out of shape and muttered to myself, “Oh, for Pete’s sake! Jury Duty is one of the biggest drags on God’s green earth. What if it turns out to be some murder trial and I’m out of work for that time? How will I pay my bills? What if the murderer gets free and then recognizes me on the street? Nothing good ever comes out of Jury Duty!”

The morning of Jury Duty, I filled my earth bag with books, a note pad and a pen to pass the wasting of my time. About 45 minutes into the dry session of reading and waiting for nothing, a woman from the courtroom stood in front of the room to announce our appointment was cancelled. She thanked the attendees for their time and said, “The honorable Derrick Allen Roberts will speak to you now and then you’ll be dismissed.” I couldn’t be bothered lifting my head or eyes from my book ~ not even for the honorable judge. “Who cares? Just let me outa here. Blah, blah, blah.”

Out of my peripheral, I could see a man step to the front of the room. He began speaking and relayed to the group the case of the man in his courtroom instantly pleaded guilty. Honorable Roberts said video evidence proved the man was guilty and the case was closed. My action-packed mind interrupted the Judge’s carefully-selected words to prove the video footage revealed as plain as the nose on the bad guy’s face he did, in fact, bop a woman over the head and beat the stuffing out of her in the parking lot at Wal-Mart. The video footage forced the perp to instantly plead guilty and change his plea of, “No way, man.  That wasn’t me and you can’t prove it!” to, “Oh, holy crud. Busted.”

Fascinated by the Columbo-style whodunit images swirling around my head, somehow I felt an internal nudge telling me the Judge’s voice sounded slightly familiar. I looked up from the pile of reading material on my lap to observe the honorable Judge Derrick Roberts. No bells or whistles went off therefore, I began putting my belongings back into my earth bag. I thought about his name and said, “Oh, wow. I knew a Derrick Roberts in high school. Nah. Can’t be. I’m out of here.”

Another internal nudge told me to ask the lady at the front of the room whether Derrick Roberts was from here and she confirmed he was. I asked whether he attended the local high school and she again confirmed my question. It was then I knew this was my first date, from 40 years ago. I asked the woman to call Derrick and tell him Debbie Patterson would like to see him, please.

She looked at me as if I’d just requested a million dollars from her personal bank account so I could go clothes shopping. Looking at me with distain she said in a drone voice, “No one, and I mean no one, sees the Judge.” I dashed into the hallway and found a police officer standing guard and urgently made the same inquiry. He looked down his nose and said, “Lady, no one sees the Judge.” I raced back into the Jury Duty room and made my request of the same woman clicking away at her computer keys and said with a bit of a tone, “I assure you, when you tell the Judge Debbie Patterson is here, he’ll see me.” Letting out an aggravated breath, she picked up her phone and said, “I’m so very sorry to disturb you, Sir, however, Debbie Patterson is here and she’s insistent you’ll see her”, all the while giving me the look of, “See, I told you so. Now stop bothering me.” Instantly, she straightened herself and sheepishly said into the phone, “Oh? Yes, sir. I’ll bring her up immediately.”

My new BFF told me to follow her and joyfully asked all sorts of questions about my life and how I could possibly know the Judge. I relayed the years we attended school together and what an outstanding student he was. My new best friend couldn’t believe the Judge was ever a teenager!

 We walked the hallways of the court house side by side. We laughed, exchanged recipes and even showed each other photos of our children. She’d wave her hand in front of a camera and the doors would magically open. She entered a hundred numbers into a keypad and then these doors would open. Once at the top of the building, she turned to me and whispered, “From here, we must remain silent and keep your hands to your sides.” These instructions scared me out of my wits.

Finally, my BFF entered numbers into the keypad on a large door and it flew open. There, before my eyes stood Derrick Roberts, the boy with whom I went on my first date. Within seconds, 40 years of my life vanished. The honorable Judge Roberts came from around his desk and we hugged while BFF froze in disbelief. She graciously departed without a word, leaving Derrick and me to reminisce for an hour and a half. The entire time Derrick and I were exchanging the events in our lives the past four decades, I secretly wondered whether he remembered our date ~ and hoped he didn’t.

In my mind’s eye, I went back nearly 40 years to my date night with Derrick when we were only 16 years old. My curfew was 10pm and I assured my parents I’d be home after the movie. I’d told my multitude of friends I had a date and said to meet us at the Cascade Theater because I was terrified of my first dating experience. I told my friends to act surprised when they saw Derrick and me walk in. Dutifully, they pretended they just happened to be at the same movie, on the same night, at the same time and seated in the same row.

Derrick was the perfect gentleman, letting me walk into the row first so I could sit next to my friends. We all knew one another from school therefore, this eased a bit of the awkwardness I felt. After the movie, Derrick drove me home and on the way, my stomach went into a knot as I anticipated the much-dreaded good-night kiss my giggling friends warned me about.

Standing on the stair of my parents’ front porch, I thanked Derrick for a nice time and began babbling like a brook to ease my fear. Before I knew it, he leaned in for the much-thought-about kiss and in a flash, I put my chin to my chest. His gentle kiss missed my lips and landed in the middle of my forehead. Horrified, I said my mother was waiting up and I’d better get inside. In Derrick’s absolute politeness, he smiled, shook my hand and said good-bye.

It wasn’t until I was 18, I finally succumbed to a kiss. My mother used to ask why I was so squirrelly and said I was like a Mexican Jumping Bean. I had no answer. I’m hopeful I’ve finally grown up, however, to this day when I think back to my first date, the Cascade Theater packed with my friends and the attempt at my first kiss, I shake my head in despair. Was I normal, not yet up to speed with the dating scene or what?

Synchronicity planted me in the honorable Derrick Roberts’ courtroom, making me grateful for my Jury Duty notice. I sat comfortably in the Judge’s chambers while visiting with Derrick and hopefully played a more mature role. He showed me his long, black robes and even told me which one was his favorite. Traveling back 40 years and then coming to my senses in the present day, I believe I’ve come a long way, Baby. Do you and my late mother agree? Derrick, you be the judge.

                                 Mom, Frank, My Step-Father, and Me

                         Photo courtesy of Ross, My Brother