Back in the USA

I was away at a conference recently, hosted by the Church Pension Group. They provide for many of the employee benefits at the Episcopal church where I work. We stayed at a church camp/conference center in the lush green hills of North Carolina.  We heard about proposed changes in the clergy pension plan; we heard about clergy going back to work after they’ve retired. It can be complicated. One day we experienced a lot of fun exercises that we can take back for our next staff retreat in our local church or diocese, and we also heard from an author, Martha Johnson Bourlakas, who also happens to be the wife of an Episcopal Bishop. She is a modern day Erma Bombeck, taking a funny and touching look at the human condition, and sharing much more than the “Christmas letter” version of her family life. Her book is titled Love Feast, and she talked about experiencing this agape meal, breaking bread, in the Moravian church.

She then asked us to talk at our table about a meal we’d experienced that was full of love. It surprised me that my table mates were struggling to find an example. To be fair, as a food blogger, I write about a lot of my meals, and there’s usually a story about people that goes with them. I have a long list of stories from which to draw.

The story I shared with my table, which they later shared with the entire group was the first meal we had with the Kautz family. Their younger son, Maciek, had interviewed Ed for a radio show he was doing about foreigners in our Polish city (International Poznań). After the interview, Maciek said to Ed that he thought we would hit it off with his parents, and ask if would we come to dinner sometime.

A lot of thoughts ran through our minds after accepting the invitation.

• Will the parents speak English or will poor Maciek have to translate the entire time?
• Will we really hit it off or will this be an evening full of awkward silences?
• Do we need to know more people?

That last one is craziness talking! Of course, we want to expand our circle of friends. We really did hit it off, and Maciek’s parents speak English very well.

We dined outside, in their beautiful garden, had a delicious meal. It’s hard to top Polish hospitality. I later learned our hostess had been nervous about preparing the meal. It seems no one wants to cook for a food blogger. After dinner we sat on the patio for hours chatting  and laughing until almost midnight.

We had several more meals together during our time in Poland, and became good friends. Maciek was right. I’m glad he insisted, and that his family was willing to take a chance on us. Sharing a meal, breaking bread, can be such a special event. In no time at all, you can come to adore the people with whom you’re dining.

We will visit Poland again, one of these days, and I know we will spend time with the Kautz family. Every couple of months, I’ll get an email from Maciek’s mother. We’ll catch each other up on our work, family life, travel, and our gardens. Her emails always brighten my day and make the eight time zones between us seem so much smaller.

Breaking bread together, it binds people. How about you? Do you have a love feast story to share?

PS — Maciek’s radio show spun off into a TV show. Here’s a link to an episode Ed did with him at the Polish air base. The episode aired several times, and it always surprised me to be scrolling through the channels and to hear Ed’s voice.

I had to report for jury duty a couple of weeks ago. I don’t know if a similar civic responsiblity exists in Poland. I never heard anyone mention (complain about) being called for jury duty. I’ve just started a new job; I have surgery scheduled on my knee. Both reasons why I asked the Jury Commissioner to postpone my service, but sadly, I used up my two allowable postponments while I was overseas. So I hobbled into the courthouse on Wednesday, and was promptly put on a jury. The beginning of my 3 day adventure in downtown Tucson.

Sleep pods for the homeless in downtown Tucson

We began with 60 prospective jurors. The goal was to have 25 viable candidates from which to choose a 13 jurors. The judge asked the people in the first 25 chairs a number of questions:

• Do you know anyone involved in the case?
• Have you been a vicitim of a violent crime?
• Can you keep an open mind?
• Are you available for the next 3 to 5 days? (No, having to go to work is not an excuse.)

I watched person after person be excused, 34 in all, becuase someone in their family had been murdered, because they were had a pro-police stand, because they had travel plans. When we finally got down to 25 suitable candidates on the panel, there was only one person remaining in the gallery.

So I found myself with 12 of the most intellegent, honest, responsible people in Tucson for three days.  None of us wanted to be there, but none of us were willing to make things up to get out of serving. The case we were to hear was a criminal one, with the most serious charge attempted first-degree murder.

The actualy testimony lasted only one day. There wasn’t much in the way of evidence. The only fact was that a person had been stabbed. The police and a doctor referred to their notes, and told us what they’d seen that night. Three people, two men and one woman, who had been smoking meth with the defendant earlier in the day, said they saw him in the apartment with a knife, however, there was little else they could agree on.

In the end, we found the defendant not guilty, even though we all thought that he probably did it. But we followed the legal instructions given to us by the judge, the evidence presented by the state did not convience us beyond a reasonable doubt, so the defendant must go free.

That’s how our legal system works, and that is why I try not to second guess jury decsions. The decision is based on the evidence presented in court with the legal instructions given by the presiding judge. It’s often a different decision than we might reach outside of those constraints.

I left, not feeling proud because I’d done my civic duty, but sad because I’d had an intimate peek into the lives of people who are spiraling downward with no end in sight:

• Six adults living in a one bedroom apartment
• No one had a job
• Everyone slept with a knife or baseball bat by their side
• Their days are spent smoking meth, fights with each other and the neighbors
• The original trial date had to be pushed back because the victim crashed head-on into a tree when trying to evade the police in a car he’d stolen
• Two of the three witnesses were unintelligible, not many brain cells left
• In this most formal setting, in front of a room full of strangers, they used the phrase “my old lady,” as if everyone spoke this way

I’ve been on juries three or four times now, and this judge was by far the best I’ve seen as far as jurors go. He always ended the day at 4:30, to give us a chance to leave downtown before rush hour traffic. He didn’t stand on ceremony. He was always seated when we entered the room; there was no need for the jury to remain standing, He came to the jury room after the trial to thank us again for serving, and answer any questions about the trial. He also sent thank you notes to our homes after the trial. Judge Browning will always get my vote to be retained.

Downtown Tucson