Tag Archives: trials

Surviving Mother Nature

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As I sit and watch the news, most of it is about the weather.  It gives me great pleasure and gratitude that I am in a very small area of the United States that has survived the current blast of winter weather afflicting the rest of the nation with barely any damage.  But everybody else – hooboy!  For all who don’t recognize the term, ‘hooboy!’ is an exclamation pretty much equivalent to ‘OMG!’.

I have been through forest fires before aerial support was available and blizzards with only a wood stove and been caught in flash floods in pitch black darkness.  I remember walking across a parking lot in Austin, Texas on a day when the wind began gusting to speeds I had never known, and it lifted me off my feet for a few terrifying seconds.  I’ve survived tornadoes, hurricanes, and blistering heat that took away my breath.

I’ve been grateful that Winter Storm Goliath (I just love that they’ve started naming them like hurricanes) has pretty much just left my area with a glancing blow.  The places I used to live were not so lucky.  I lost a cousin several years ago when he was a lineman trying to help Oklahoma blizzard victims get their power lines back up, and now Oklahoma is suffering again.  I’ve been praying for those volunteers trying to get the power restored for them.

One of my Facebook friends just posted that the local emergency alert system posted a warning about a freezing fog.  I used to live in his area, and I’m glad I no longer do, because – hooboy, again – does that bring back a memory!

When I was a girl we lived in the Ozarks in Missouri. One year while we were out of school during Christmas vacation, it became very warm. It stayed warm long enough for the dormant trees to have their sap start rising and flowers start blooming. It was like late spring and everyone enjoyed it thoroughly.

In those days before weather apps and satellites and accurate weather reports, families, farmers, and everybody else was caught by surprise and shock when, after a heavy warm fog descended and lingered for a day or so, the temperature crashed to below freezing. Way below freezing. We lived in the country up in the hills in heavy woods. We awoke to what sounded like a war outside.

Since our home was heated by a wood stove, it was also cold. While dad swiftly lit a fire that had been unnecessary for quite a while, we tried to rub the windows clear only to find the ice was all over the outside. The explosions and cracks and snaps were the tree branches exploding as the sap suddenly froze and expanded.  Tree limbs of all sizes were fragmented and sent flying through the air. 

The first thing we had noticed on getting out of bed was the lack of electricity.  Sure enough, the ice had coagulated on the power lines and brought them down.  My dad struggled outside after the trees quieted and looked around as best he could.  He reported when he returned that there was about an inch of ice on everything.  

We weren’t able to find out how the rest of the area was faring until the freeze thawed and the population was able to get around some, and the power was restored to our non battery radios and television.  We knew it was dire enough where we were, since we had to constantly struggle to get to our wood supply and bring it in, and worse yet, find a way to get water.  Our water came from an underground water supply that required an electric pump to bring it into the house.

So did all our neighbors, except for an elderly couple living a couple of hills away.  They still had an old fashioned hand pump water system.  Our dad joined all the other men on our road slipping and sliding their way to the couple’s house carrying what they could to haul water.  They had to walk, because vehicles could not handle the ice at all.

The cold was intense.  My sisters and I joined together in one old iron framed bed, just large enough to hold two girls at the top and two at the bottom, and my youngest sister, barely a toddler, stayed warm between our parents in their bed.  We huddled around the stove in the living room when we were forced to get up long enough to eat.  Our small home had been built before insulation, and was drafty.  Going to the bathroom was unpleasant, and we ignored personal hygiene until we had water again.  But we had it good, considering what others had to deal with.

Remember me saying that farmers were taken by surprise, too?  Our area of the Ozarks was farm country.  Lots of dairy cattle, beef, horses, chickens, livestock and pets of all kinds were out in the fields and yards enjoying the warm weather.  They stayed out in the fog, because who worried about a little water?  The cattle were almost all lying down, probably chewing their cuds and enjoying the warm ground, when the temperature dropped.

Horror stories emerged as the news began to filter to us.  Farmers awoke to the screams of their animals as the creatures tried to rise from the ground, only to discover the heavy ice now coating them had frozen their milk bags to the ground, and their lurching attempts to rise had torn their milk bags open and ripped the hide from their bellies.  Hundreds of animals had to be put down in the fields that first morning, then their carcasses disposed of after the farmers’ tractors could finally find purchase on the ice.  My gym teacher had to put her mare’s new foal down after she found it had tried to leap to its feet and ripped its hooves off.

Because of the extensive damage to the power lines, the dairy farmers who had surviving cattle had to milk by hand and soon found themselves unable to deal with the cows who were loudly expressing their pain as their milk bags distended without relief.  They called on the local agricultural agents for help, and generators were finally discovered and flown in from all over to power their milking machines.

All the children my age were affected (some to their delight) when it was discovered the sudden freeze had broken the school’s steam heating system that had been shut down over Christmas vacation, but not drained.  New parts were brought in, only to freeze and break before the steam heating could beat back the intense cold.  We had to go to school through June that year to make up for the time we lost in January.  That was no fun, since our school had no air conditioning.

It was a rough winter, but the lessons lingered.  Work together with family and friends.  Know your neighbors.  We always have water stored, and a way to keep warm no matter what heating system our house has.  I don’t understand people who have all electric homes and apartments.  Always have food that doesn’t have to be cooked, and keep the freezers full so the foods can keep themselves cold in there.  Have a way to light the house in the absence of electricity, and very importantly, have a way to pass the time without computer, television, video games, or recharging smart phones.  Keep the gas tanks full in the vehicles and bug out bags prepared in case of evacuation.  Those lessons have got my family through bad weather, and bad times, of all kinds.

My prayers go out for all the travelers trying to get home, the homebound worrying about food supplies, warmth, and water, and the professionals trying to bring them relief.  I pray for the law officers like my nephew in law, the truckers like my relatives, and the commuters like my sister.  I pray for us all, and pray that you find it in your hearts to help where you can, and find help where and when you need it.

 

Cleaning the Windows

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I’ve been reading a lot this week about various people and how they cope with their lives.  I live with a younger sister.  We’re both in our fifties now, and our health isn’t too good, so we’re trying to work on it.  She has  a particularly nasty condition that leaves her looking normal on the outside, so people don’t really understand when she says she feels awful.  Having lived with her for over thirty years, I know just how bad it can get.  This week the oak pollen around south Texas has reached near historic levels, according to the weatherman.  Her condition makes her immune system hyper vigilant, so her allergies can wreck her.  Literally.

Her condition manifests with an inflammation of her inner ears.  Her ENT specialist who diagnosed it said everytime it did, more brain cells were cooked in the heat and more of her memory and comprehension would be lost.  She’s more concerned by extreme pain and the dizziness that leaves her staggering around and unable to drive.  She is given a steroid to deal with it, in the hopes that her immune system can be suppressed and the inflammation decreased.  The side effects of that are sleep, swelling, and bad temper.  Since she is trying to lose weight, it is not a good season for her.

I have insulin resistant diabetes and a slowly degenerating back.  This makes it interesting when it becomes dangerous for her to walk and I have to cook and take her meals.  She also is sensitive to light due to migraines during these episodes so she tries to sit in the dark and quiet.  I can’t stand the dark and like music playing most of the time.  It’s a challenge to make her as comfortable as possible while not giving up my life.  Luckily I enjoy challenges.  I consider them brain exercises.  It’s how I got through breast cancer.

Some people, when faced with an obstacle, sit and stare at it and complain to everybody around them about how it is blocking them.  I always wonder what it’s blocking, and become so curious I try to find a way around it to find out.  Zoos frequently try to “enrich” the animals lives by giving them problems they have to work at.  I figure maybe that’s what I’m getting.

This week a Facebook friend of mine remarked on how she was feeling overwhelmed by all the bad things she was seeing and experiencing.  Like many do, she wondered why God was allowing it to happen.  I gave her an excerpt from one of the stories in my next book, just as God gave it to me.

“Why does God allow such evil to exist? How can He allow them to suffer like this?” “Because if you were never allowed to try to stop it, if you were never given the chance to care about others, you would not be His children. You would be potted plants. Maybe, at the most, domesticated pets. Would you prefer that?”

I also cope by reminding myself how much worse it could be.  I am so much better off than many people I know personally.  I thank God every day I don’t have my sister’s problems.  I thank Him for letting me have a pension sufficient to live on, a nice home to live in, insurance to pay for most of my medical bills, and transportation not only for myself but for family that need to go somewhere.  I have lived in much worse circumstances.

I can dream of winning the lottery, writing a best-seller, inheriting a fortune, or even marrying somebody rich.  But they are just dreams.  My day to day life is interesting, rewarding, and creative, which is pretty darned good.  This Easter weekend when the world celebrates the coming of spring, or the renewal of the Hope of the world thanks to an empty cave, or just enjoys a nice festive weekend holiday, try to look at your life in a better light.  Don’t sit around in the gloom, grab some cleaner and polish the windows!  It may at least distract you!

The Meaning of Words

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I had an interesting experience this week and I guess I can check it off my bucket list.  I never really was aware it was on there, but now I realize I’ve always wanted to do it.  I was a juror on a criminal case.  Perry Mason it was not.  CSI in whatever city it was not.  Law and Order it was not.  It was fascinating and very satisfying.

The sister I live with gets a jury summons at least once a year.  I got one once about 30 years ago, and was not chosen.  It was amusing, though, to be sitting beside the one guy who had perhaps the second best excuse in the world for being exempt from jury duty – he was the star witness in the trial we were to be chosen for.  The judge was outraged, but calmed down after being reminded that jury summons were done by the computer on a random basis.  I had another sister who got a jury summons for a trial where the defendant was a guy she personally knew.  That got her out of the pool.  My mom got to be a juror on a murder trial.  She was good.  She never mentioned the trial until it was over and they declared the defendant guilty.

The folks who checked us in were delighted to see so many show up.  Despite the fact that not responding to a jury summons gets you in trouble with the law, many often just do not.  There were about 24 of us this day.  The deputy checking us in said that once only 11 people showed up and they had to reschedule the trial.  Since they only needed six jurors for this trial  (I have no idea how they decide how many they need – have to find out some time) the 24 of us pleased them.  It was about half and half men and women.  One turned out to be a bail bondsman, but the defendant was not a client, so they left him in.  Another was the daughter of the retired district attorney, but they left her in.

The morning was taken up by voir dire – the questioning of the juror pool to see if they understand the charges, and to find out if they have any prejudices that would affect their determination of the defendants’ guilt or innocence.  The prosecutor was new, an assistant District Attorney who did a superb job of explaining reasonable doubt, since the case would really hinge on whether the jury felt there was any. The defense attorney reminded me of a television show character, with a bushy mustache and a big, booming voice.  He also was very professional and explained things well.  Between the two of them, I think they made sure we understood the terms that would be used in the case.

When the jury selection was made, I was delighted to be chosen.  They then sent us off to lunch, with the trial to begin afterwards.  When I got back, I was able to chat with the bailiff, who was a retired chief of police.  It was very interesting to hear about life in a courthouse.  One thing that was very different from the television shows was how friendly everyone was.  Of course, it is a mostly rural south Texas county legal system, and everybody knows everybody, and luckily it was not a tense, emotional trial we had to look forward to.

The judge and district attorney smiled a lot, but not in the “We know we’re going to win” style, more in the “we’re delighted to see people willing to do their civic duty” style.  The defense attorney did not smile as much, but his client probably would not have appreciated it.  I got the feeling the poor man (Hispanic, poor English, and easily confused by questions put to him) thought a jury of six white women were not going to give him a fair deal.  He looked more and more morose as the trial proceeded.

We six did admit to each other we were surprised no men had been chosen, but after some thought, agreed that most of them had not struck us as, well, reasonable as most of the women.  But we were all determined to be fair and thoughtful in our decision, never forgetting that a man’s future was on the line.  We had listened to police and professional expert testimony on the facts of the case, and examined physical evidence.

The decision we had to make came down to: Was there reasonable doubt or not in the situation?  Was the evidence and testimony overwhelmingly on the prosecution’s side?  Was there any reason to doubt the defendant was guilty of the two charges against him?  It really came down to the meaning of the legal terms in the charges and how the law interpreted them.  That’s where I was glad the prosecutor and defense attorney had explained them so well.

I was also very glad I was on a jury with five other intelligent, thoughtful women who were serious about their duty.  We did not discuss it for long, because we all pretty much agreed on our opinions from the beginning, but we did discuss it thoroughly.  We noted what we thought of the testimonies and the evidence, and then delved into how the meanings of the legal terms fit the case.  None of us were concerned about the defendant’s ethnic, economic,  or social background.  The subjects never came up.  All we discussed was how the legal definitions affected the case.  In the end, we agreed that, despite the evidence and testimony presented, we could see that what the defendant swore must have happened was just as likely as what the prosecution was certain had happened.  We found reasonable doubt that the defendant met the legal definition of the charges against him, and judged him not guilty.

There is an old saying that comes up occasionally when people argue:  “You say tomato, I say tomahto”, meaning “we’re using different words but we’re saying the same thing”.  But we don’t always.  We need to be careful what we say, how we say it, and when we say it.  Sometimes feelings can be hurt, and sometimes a life can be changed.  Sometimes we just need to think before we speak.  We need to think before we write.  We need to think, period.