Monday was, for me, Civics lesson 101 day in Key West. It was a 12-hour reminder that in the midst of swirling, divisive, angry headlines and partisan politics, there’s a whole bunch of people willing to hold the center together. I think we lose sight of that.
I long ago lost track of how many times I’ve been summoned for jury duty. I easily can count how often I’ve been a juror. Exactly one.
That was an odd one-off. For two years back in the pre-Covid days of 2017 and 2018, I was a U.S. District Court grand juror. I called in every Wednesday for 104 weeks and each time the message was the same: You don’t need to report. Most of the action, we grand jurors were told during training, would be in Miami-Dade; there was little call for a federal grand jury in Key West.
Oh, I could claim the automatic age-related exemption (you’ll have to look it up because I’m disinclined to share my birthday count), but I keep showing up when the summons arrives. Ever the optimist, I am certain that one of these days I’ll get to be the lucky one in the jury box — though probably not until I stop writing about local news. The legal system long has appeared unenthusiastic about journalists on juries.
Undeterred, early on Monday morning I triked over to the Freeman Justice Center and hung out with a hundred or so other Key Westers as we waited for the doors to open. There’s little quite so fascinating — and, frankly, little more inspiring — than a collection of one’s neighbors, friends and strangers doing their duty.
Most everyone was well under 70, putting the lie to the idea that only the ancients answer jury summons. Most had to shunt aside jobs, kids, parents and assorted other conflicts to show up. One was headed to his wedding and a bit concerned serving might make him late. We all chuckled, even Judge Mark Jones. I’m pretty sure this groom got to skip this time.
Prospective jurors have but three things in common: We have a Florida government ID, like a driver’s license; we are full-time residents of Monroe County, and we respect our system of laws enough to show up. I am confident these folks are qualified to be a jury of my peers should I be sitting at the defendant’s table.
I was dismissed in round three of selection along with about 20 others. By mid-morning, we were back to our regular lives. Everyone else headed to another courtroom for final selection for two trials scheduled that day. Maybe next time for me?
Civics lesson | Candidates field tough local questions
A few hours later I was back on my trike headed to The Studios of Key West and Hometown!’s candidate forum for contested races in the Aug. 20 primary election. (Your mail-in ballot should be in your hands by now. Best check with the Supervisor of Elections if you didn’t get yours.)
As we four panelists compared notes beforehand to ensure we didn’t overlap, it was pretty clear the candidates would field pointed, specific questions focused on local issues. It wouldn’t bode well for candidates who preferred generalizations, came unprepared or tried to dodge and weave.
Incumbents have the edge because they’ve faced these forums before, they’ve learned sound-bite strategies and they can add important-sounding details. They’re harder to pin down. Their opponents are often still getting their footing. I like the neophytes who readily explain what they’re doing to learn even though they’re not so facile as their as their experienced opponents.
My points of view are no secret to anyone who reads my columns, so, sure, there were candidates whose positions made me work not to roll my eyes. But here’s the civics lesson: These folks show up. For reasons most of us cannot fathom, these men and women are willing to put themselves out there for the public to assess. I have enough trouble taking heat for my columns. My skin isn’t tough enough to withstand a political run.
Each of them walked away that night with my respect. They showed up because they believe in the system of democratic elections. Whether we agree with their positions is, for a civics lesson, irrelevant. We make our viewpoints known when we vote. That still matters.
Cliche though it is, all politics is local. For these county commission, school board and Key West City Commission races, the most important things we can know are what these candidates will do, right here. For our legal system’s survival, it’s about potential jurors taking that summons seriously.
So, when you wonder if there’s any hope we can surmount the sociopolitical chasms that divide us, remember Monday’s civics lesson. Show up. Do your duty. Every time we do, we help hold the center.
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