I was in Municipal Court this morning (Miss Leadfoot strikes again–I’ve kept a clean record for years by restricting my speeding to out-of-state driving, but had a momentary lapse). There were a half dozen kids caught drinking, a bad boy in manacles, three Moms with driving violations, and a Navaho couple in their mid-seventies who had driven up from the reservation. He was medium height and wiry, hair cut short by a barber, clean Wrangler jeans and a bowlegged stance from a lifetime of managing horses; she had long long hair clipped up in a bun, and was taking care of things like she always had but they were older now.
When they came to town before Christmas, he ran a red light and didn’t use his turn signal, his truck had slick road tires when snow tires are necessary. And he was very deaf.
She stood next to him, in front of the judge. Through her, it was established that the old man has 20/20 vision, and they had ordered a hearing aid that should arrive soon. He had passed the driving test and now had snow tires; he had driven them up this morning in a snow storm. Then the judge asked the required questions.
“You have been charged with violation of …. Do you understand these charges?” “Yes, Your Honor,” says the wife. “No, he has to say it,” says the judge. She nudges her husband. “Say, Yes Your Honor,” she says. And he does.
“How do you plead to these charges?” “Guilty, Your Honor,” says the wife. “He has to say it,” say the judge patiently. And the old Navaho man does. This goes on for three or four questions. The judge is very patient.
The prosecutor says to himself, ”You still love him, don’t you.”
It gets picked up by a mike, so she hears it along with the judge and everyone else. She’s still a beautiful woman, a little sassy, and she says to the room at large, “Oh, I have to be his ears and brain these days, but he’s a good man.”
And we all laughed, and wished them a safer world.
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