Sharpwriters' Thoughts Blog Archives - Archives - July 2001 June 2002 July 2002 August 2002 September 2002 October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 June 2007 August 2007 September 2007 December 2007 March 2008 May 2008 July 2008 August 2008 April 2009 September 2009 October 2009 December 2009 January 2010 February 2010 June 2010 Current Posts Wednesday, May 18, 2005 As Young as You Feel? Ouch! Sometimes the perception others have of my job as judge, that it's touch and stressful, is actually more true than most of the time. Right now, today, that's absolutely true. A woman sits in the outer office crying because I've sent her to jail. She's not in the lockup, and we're being as kind to her as possible. She's 34 years old and doesn't look a day over 84. Cocaine and prostitution will do that to you. I feel like a heel. Yet I know it's in her best interest, as does everybody else whose mind is not clouded over from substance abuse. Still, it's hard. It seems like everything's about money. There are two little girls in the juvenile system right now, and they need lots and lots of help. It could come from Child Protective Services or from MH-MR (Mental Health-Mental Retardation) or from the Juvenile Justice System. It will take a lot of money for a lot of years, and funding is tight everywhere. All three agencies are supposed to be interested in the best interest of the child. All are, but funding is tight. Yes, sometimes the job is hard. I don't know that the job is aging me, but something is. Could it be the passage of years? Surely not. I was in Quanah visiting my parents who are both 89 until Daddy turns 90 next month. I had a new permanent, one that had gotten to the point of frizzing with the humid weather while all the severe thunderstorm warnings lit up the television. I got up Saturday morning and if I were Elaine I would have sworn there was a ghost in the room, but it was just a mirror. It certainly seemed like Grandmom was there, ready to holler "Whoop, Laudy!" and to give her opinion on everybody and everything around her, but it was just a mirror reflecting back her face. My face. Our face. It startled me so, I started in on the math. Grandmom was born in April, 1893. I was born in January, 1947. About the time I was four, Grandmom was the age I am now. Circumscription. It's always been one of my favorite words, and it fits this. You're as young as you feel, but it doesn't matter. People as young or old as I am can be really neat people, even if they put people in jail. Share | posted by Barbara Rollins @ 10:39 AM 0 Comments: Post a Comment Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom] << Home