Today the phone guy came to change over our local phone to GCI. He pulled up in a run down, 1970's pick up truck and I was suspicious it was even the cable guy. The bumper was about to fall off and the muffler made loud noises as he pulled into the driveway. He introduced himself as Scott, put shoe covers over his shoes and made his way on into our house. The conversation with him ended up being much more amusing than I ever would've imagined.
Me: Do you have any kids? (Stuart and Nora were both crying at the time and I wanted to see what his compassion-o-meter was for tolerating fussy kids)
Scott: Yeah, I got one but hes not here. Hes down in Montana.
He flashed a grin full of empty spaces where teeth once were.
Me: How old is he?
Scott: Hes 11. Yeah (sigh) Kids are a lot of work. He got done with court recently.
Me: Court? Oh wow. What for?
Scott: Smoking. He can't stay away from the cigarettes. (smoke on scott's breath, BTW).
Me: Court. Wow. I'm scared of court. Even with just jury duty, it scares the be-jesus out of me.
So after he went to court, did that scare him enough to not smoke anymore?
Scott: Oh no. He still is smoking. Hes not scared of court. I'm not either. I spend a lot of time there.
(Pause. Gulp. What does he go to court for? Abduction? Breaking and Entering? Assault? )
Scott: Yeah, between my ex wife, my truck and my son, I'm there all the time.
Me: So court for you is sorta like going to the grocery store? pick up a gallon of milk, go to court...
Scott: Yeah, you could put it that way. Its no big deal any more.
Scott wrapped things up with the phone-he was quite efficient hooking everything up and was on his way in a matter of 20 minutes. I joked with him about staying out of trouble as he left and he laughed as he said he doesn't mind going to court. It was a reminder of how each of us has our own reality and our own comfort levels with what life throws at us. I would be terrified to pieces to have to go to court and he was just fine with going once a month.