We the jury

“Where justice is denied, where poverty is enforced, where ignorance prevails, and where any one class is made to feel that society is an organized conspiracy to oppress, rob and degrade them, neither persons nor property will be safe.” 

— Frederick Douglas

AUBURN — After spending six hours sitting on an ass-breaking hardwood bench in a dreary room with no windows during jury selection at Androscoggin Superior Court, I am elated and relieved that I have fulfilled my obligation as a citizen and re-enforced what I already believed — that becoming a career criminal is a lesson futility.

Any low-life hood thinking about leading a life of crime should spend an entire working day listening to cases and the vetting of prospective jurors during jury selection. Planting your butt on one of those hardwood benches for six hours would convince me that crime doesn’t pay.

Partaking in the judicial process is a painful experience for my daire aire, but it made me appreciate our slow and cumbersome justice system.

The American court system moves at a snail’s pace, but you know what, it works — for the most part.

It is not perfect, but like my wise son said, it is not too much to ask of our U.S. citizens to serve as a juror and fulfill their civic duty. Heck, teachers, cops and soldiers are on the line doing great things for a grateful nation every day.

It is the best we can do as American citizens and I prefer this system compared to other nations, where in some instances, there is no justice.

I have been called twice in the past 15 years, and I respectfully beg the court to choose another outstanding American citizens like myself. I know I am a good American, but there are other outstanding Americans who haven’t been called. 

How about giving them a turn?

But when you are called, the summons should be taken seriously. You are obligated to serve for five weeks or less, and if you are chosen as a juror, it will wreak havoc on your schedule. 

Four cases were presented to prospective jurors  during the selection process, and I was selected as a foreman, which I thought was an honor and a huge responsibility. I won’t discuss the specifics of the cases.

My case was pleaded out after opening arguments were given. We went into recess before we heard all the testimony. Jurors were confined to room before we were excused with a thank-you from the judge.

But in those two days, I watched judges and attorneys do their best to see that the proceedings were expedited in a fair and just manner. I witnessed bailiffs ensuring our safety as a diligent judge maintained fairness and order during the trial.

We take our justice system for granted, but it is up to all of us as Americans to do their civic duty even though the jury system throws a monkey wrench into our precious schedules. Sure, $15 a day and paid mileage from your home to the courthouse is a pittance for our time, but serving is not about making a few bucks.

But if you are called and selected, keep this mind: We the jury are responsible to see that justice is served, and hopefully give the other guy— and that would be me — a break.

That is our duty as American citizens.

Harvest moon

My splendid carrots and freshly grown gourds, which I call affectionally call gordo.

AUBURN - My garden is coming to an abrupt end. 

September's cool nights and fading sunshine means fall is taking over and squeezing out summer.

September is like a mafia thug closing in another crook's territory.

But my hardier plants hang on. I looked at my carrots and saw they were ripe for picking. My pristine soil has yielded a bumper crop of these tasty, orange wonders.

I began yanking carrots left and right and can't wait to throw them in the steamer Sunday. I will also blanch the rest of several giant zucchinis. I lost a bunch of tomatoes to blight.

But my carrots look just fine, thank you.

What a way to end a growing season that gave me one of the most spectacular gardens I have grown.

AUBURN - There is strong evidence that my vegetable plants have been using performance enhancing fertilizer.

My plants look like they have been juicing, and I would like to know where they got this illegal substance. 

There could be a huge scandal at 53 Valley Street, and the controversy could be comparable to the United States congress investigating Major League Baseball for steroid use

I might be forced to contact the proper authorities or go before a grand jury to testify against a bunch of vegetables that have given so much to me this summer.

There is no question my vegetables came across with the goods. 

I estimate, and this is no tall tale, I produced a bumper crop of 30 cucumbers, 30 summer squash, 20 zucchinis, a couple of hundred tomatoes, and I still haven't pulled my carrots. The broccoli and Swiss chard continues grow. I had about 300 blueberries because I trimmed them and offered words of encouragement.

But thanks to cool Maine nights and a drenching rain, my tomato plants have expired and everything has slowed down to a walk in my Garden of Eden. Right now, I still have Swiss chard, broccoli and carrots to pick until October. They are the hardiest plants in the fall.  I also had an abundance of pears and blue berries. 

Life was certainly sweet for gardeners in the Pine Tree State this season.

I have frozen about 20 pounds of summer squash and zucchini, and there is frozen tomato sauce lining the freezer in my refrigerator. 

I never fertilized my garden. The soil is that good. 

But I think there are two reasons why my garden was a success this season, and I swear by these two key ingredients.

I had plenty of wood ash to go around after my neighbor generously donated nearly 3,000 pounds for freshly cut ash.

After a bit a research, I was surprised to learn that wood ash in small amounts is beneficial to a vegetable garden. I began dumping the stuff on the garden throughout winter.

In the spring, I began spreading lush grass clippings and began using it to smother weeds around the plants, which took a lot of pressure off my back and knees.

But here's the deal when using my secret ingredients to nurturing a bountiful garden.

You can't burn crap in a wood stove and then apply its poison-ridden ash to an unsuspecting garden. And you can only use grass clippings if you didn't fertilizer your lawn.

Oh, and one more thing: Talk to your plants. Tell them you love them and want them to be good plants so that when they grow up, gardeners can be proud of them each growing season.

Look, gardening is a passion, and I enjoy eating vegetables that are not laced with pesticides. Besides, watching things grow alleviates stress in a world that is a mess for the moment.