We got the Courtroom. Check. We got the Judge. Check. We got the Innocent-Till-Proven-Guilty…don’t we??? That is when the fun began because he-thought-she-thought-they-thought…
Wasn’t it someone else’s Job Description to actually bring the accused from the local holding cell to his arraignment? Seems everyone was so busy busting their chops to arrive early to meet the newly assigned Miss-Here-Comes-the-Judge that one worrisome detail was neglected… transporting the Innocent-Till-Proven-Guilty.
Trying to wear her very best poker face, Miss-Here-Comes-the-Judge asked which prison official had the duty to ensure the Innocent-Till-Proven-Guilty made it to court? Easy answer …It was George-Come-Lately…but today was the first day of the hunting season and well, that was like as sanctified (in his mind) as a Pilgrimage to Mecca, or like Lent to a Catholic. No way he and his buddies would be anywhere but the back country in their neon colored hunting jackets with reflectivestrips, matching caps, long barreled hunting rifles religiously ensconced in slings. Safety first…always…Safety First…
Miss-Here-Comes-the-Judge sighed (or was it a scoff) and asked who was cross-trained in that event? Bewildered, the local constabulary gazed back at her – the Officer-That- Laid-the-Charges, the Crown Attorney who would go to the ends of the earth to keep his Stats at ZERO lossesand the Court Appointed Paid From the Public Purse Defence Lawyer, who had no skin in the game but it did guarantee him some paid legal fees…and of course, the town folk, split in to two factions…a small group of members of the SecretSocietyofScryers(who supported the former Judge) and dared show their unrepentant faces. Then, those that embraced the Innocent-Till-Proven-Guilty and like an Amish Zealot, shunning the English, they shunned the Establishment and its trappings.
Now, you know and I know the former Judge, who knew when a butterfly flapped his wings, in this town, (still does) would have been sure all the bases were covered, tasks assigned. Even his naysayers admitted (grudgingly) that his courtroom ran like clockwork….seemed Miss-Here-Comes-the-Judge had some learning to doabout this part of the country. The simple life…well, it is not so simple.
The Crown Attorney puffed out his chestrecommended ‘someone’ just phone the Warden and have Innocent-Till-Proven-Guiltysent over to the Courthouse.
Yikes…Prison Fr: Morguefile By: larryfarr
At that point the Officer-That-Laid-the-Charges jumped up and said it would be more efficient if he’d just crossed the street and walked the prisoner out of jail, across the four lane highway, with cars whizzing past like they were on the Autobahn, and up the Courtroom steps. No way he’d put leg shackles on Innocent-Till-Proven-Guilty. It would be tricky enough without that. Okay, okay, he’d make sure the handcuffs were on securely but this was Farmer Joe’s son….he wasn’t going to pull any funny stuff….and if he did, well, the Officer-That- Laid-the-Charges had a gun….not that he would have to use it,you understand.
Miss-Here-Comes-the-Judge looked at the Crown Attorney, the Defence Lawyer, asked the Officer-That- Laid-the-Charges how long it would take to complete his delivery of the accused, banged her gavel and said, ‘Court is Adjourned till Mission Accomplished’, stood up abruptly, barged through the swinging door behind her, into the sanctity of her chambers.
Hear Ye, Hear Ye…this Court is no longer in Session. Fr:Morguefile By: mcconnors
A quick scan around the courtroom saw smirks and grins, even some guffaws on the faces of not only on the Crown Attorney, the Defence Lawyer, the Officer-That- Laid-the-Charges but also on the members of the SecretSocietyofScryersand the town folk that shunned the Establishment and its trappings. It seemed though they had opposing view points, their sense of humour
That is how we roll…in the country… Fr: Morguefile By: edumigue
was still in sync.
It was going to be a steep learning curve for Miss-Here-Comes-the-Judge…not like anyone would put a hand out to help her…and if she put her hand out….well, don’t be shocked if someone (accidentally, I am sure, totally), stepped on it….
Because… you not kin…. you not in…. even worse if you’re a ‘Comefrom Away’…Cuz that is how we roll…in the country.
It would seem (according to Momma, who has been accused of stretching the truth just to enliven the story), that every country village had a Mad As AHatter Harriet Damsel…going forward we will just call her MAAHHD.
So if you’re cursed with being a city slickerand was just passing through our town, you probably really want to know how to recognize MAAHHD. It was not like she was radio-active, killing off your healthy cells as she fixed her steely gaze upon you. You couldn’t call her obnoxious, not even passive aggressive. No, she was just, how to put it…other worldly.
Hats, Hats Homemade Hats
You see MAAHHD wore hats, everycolor, every size, homemade hats no doubt,made at the kitchen table, by the light of the kerosene oil lamp , while she was clearly under the influence of wobbly juice or dandelion wine, depending on the season.
Baby Bonnet
When you saw her on the street in her pinkand blue hat, you knew she was on the way to welcome the most recent born member of the community. Then she had the Easter Bonnet, all flowers and bird nests, the Christmas Jingle bell Tuque-Hat affair to keep her ears warm….and many more…
Kentucky Derby Hat
Like the Kentucky Derby Hat, the Queen Victoria Birthday Hat, the Canada Day Flag Hat…but there was one hat, her favourite…. worn the most often….the Bereavement Hat.
I don’t know if you ever have seen a Bereavement Hat (least not one put together by MAAHHD). It was dark black felt, a little netting to cover her left eye (or was it the right?)with one long various shades of grey‘I surrender’ seagull feather.… oh, and just to add some joy, a satin white and red rosette with matching ribbon.
Behind MAAHHD‘s back (and even to her face….sometimes…) we said it reminded us of a skunk…no wait, life …with dark forces being slayed by a simple splash of color…but no worries…if it worked forMAAHHD, it worked for us.
When we saw MAAHHD going down the sidewalk, wearing the Bereavement Hat, heading to the Funeral Parlour, we scratch our heads and ask, ‘Who died?’, because MAAHHD paid her respects,regardless if she knew the person, the family or even a friend of the deceased. MAAHHD had the ample opportunity to sit piously through visitation of all the dead, English and French since we lived in a Franglais (French–English) town. Still, our French friends would come out, shaking their heads, ‘Sacre Cœur, qui est-ce?’ …roughly translated, ‘Who the heck is that?’ they’d ask? ‘Welcome to MAAHHD’s World,MAAHHD’s World,’ we’d say…..long before that other Mad Canadian coined the Wayne’s World, Wayne’s World jingle.
MAAHHD always took a seat in the same chair, respectfully far from the actual mourners. It got to a point that her presence was so accepted, if some outsider, sat on her chair, one of the town folk would shoe the errant individual away … because small towns have those rules and regulations, written in indelible ink, passed down through the generations and they have no problem passing them on to the ignorant Come–From–Aways.
Now that begs the question…so who all attended MAAHHD’s visitations? No surprise….everyone for miles around turned out, Frenchand English alike, to show her the respect that she had shown their loved ones. The line of mourners, exchanging MAAHHD stories in French and English, stretched from the main boulevard, down a couple of side streets, to the funeral home door, down the hall, into the viewing room, up to the shiny, varnished casket where MAAHHDRested-In-Peace..
Bereavement Hat…
To further show honor and recognition for her past commitment, her empty chair was moved up, right beside the coffin…with her Bereavement Hat in the middle of the seat, just in case MAAHHD decided to climb out and sit piously, with her hat on, one last time.
Rumor has it MAAHHD has a distant cousin (or is it a great-niece) moving to town to continue the family tradition… so fingers crossed. It is said all the Cousin (or Great Niece) inherited was hats…Mad As AHatter Harriet Damsel Hats… a lot of them… so don’t be spooked if you one day see MAAHHD’s hats, back in action…it is not a ghost…it is just an inheritance…..
She wore a…Raspberry beret…The kind you find in a second-hand store..(Thank you Prince. Rest In Peace)
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