The Eve of Sentencing for A Murderer

I have been quiet and have not written for quite some time.  A girl in my community was murdered last March and it was someone I knew.  I sat through the trial and I then had the unfortunate experience of having to write a Victim Impact Statement regarding people I knew.  My heart has been broken and after my silence and writing of my statement, eventually I will get back to keeping my blog.

State’s Attorney’s Office for Montgomery County

Maryland
50 Maryland Avenue

5th Floor


Rockville, Maryland 20850


ATTN: Sandra Harper


Criminal Number: 118267

Criminal’s Name: Brittany Norwood 



Dear Authorities:

I would like to take a moment to discuss the many ways not only the loss of Jayna Murray has affected me, her family and friends, but also how the murder itself has affected my community and communities across the nation both by those that knew her or simply knew her friends or family and also by those that knew neither but were so affected by the tragedy that it has altered their lives.

I began writing this impact statement a few days after the conviction of Brittany Norwood knowing that it would take me many different sessions of working on it because of the emotional upset that It causes just thinking about the loss of Jayna.  That compiled with how brutal and malicious and barbaric her murder was, makes me so upset that I cannot look at the defendant as anything but a monster who needs to be caged and not have any human contact with anyone for the rest of her life.  Why should anyone get to have any contact with her when we cannot talk, hug or show our love directly to Jayna.  All we have are memories and the constant empty void of not being able to hear her voice, see her smile or feel Jayna’s embrace and intoxicating love of life.  Why should her killer’s family have anything different?

This was one of the most brutal murders I have ever seen.  I sat in the Courtroom for the entire trial.  I did this as support for the family, of whom I am personal friends with as well as for many of Jayna’s friends in Houston who could not otherwise be there.  I was glad that the Murrays were shielded from this and I sat through the horrific photos from the medical examiners testimony when others could not so that some that needed to know could know a shielded narration and explanation.  I looked at the photos, but Brittany Norwood had no expression and never looked at the photos.  Brittany Norwood’s father sat in the courtroom and never looked at the photos.  He was in a place strategically so that he would not see the monitors or screen and the rest of the Norwood’s family failed to sit in the courtroom and listen to the horrific brutal crime that Norwood committed.  They never bothered to look at any photos and cowardly escaped to avoid having to hear about actions of their relative who savagely took our Jayna away.  They need to be forced to know what she did and they need to suffer the same loss that we all do.   The difference is that it can never be the same loss because they were two different people.  Jayna who was vibrant and kind and loving and full of life.  Jayna who is so loving and caring of others that eventhough she had caught Norwood stealing from the store that she still would go out of her way to go back to the store not knowing she was being lured to her brutal death.  Brittany Norwood who is a savage monster that was seething with jealous rage and calculations and self serving delusions that she would stop at nothing including making up lies and accusations and using the N word, claiming that the imaginary rapists used the N word to her and that it upset her.  Further, she would stage a sexual assault on Jayna and cut her pants and undergarments and sexually assault her after she murdered her. 

What is beyond the pale is that for days my friends, community, and colleagues were in fear that something this savage happened in our community where nothing happens and where we feel safe and secure.  Brittany Norwood spattered our metaphorical picket fences and we will never get that back.

What is worse is that we will never get back the reality that there are people as self centered and heartless as Norwood.  They were Lululemons’ neighbors right next door at the Apple Store.  They heard Jayna being attacked, they heard her pleading and crying, they heard her last gurgling breath and they did nothing other than listen.  They showed me that our society is broken and it cannot likely be repaired.  The Apple Store employees showed me that our society is out of touch and that the mass of the generations following us have no connection to what is the right and the wrong thing to do, or what is just.  They have shown our community that there is a terrible emptiness in the mass of people who have no sense of community.

This trial was especially hard for me, since it fell across the anniversary date of the murder of my pregnant aunt and cousin, my childhood playmate.  They were murdered on trick or treat night when I was 5.  The culprits were never caught, and it has haunted me since I was a child.  This case was hard for me, but I pulled my inner strength to be there for my friends, Jayna Murray and the entire Murray family.  It was the right thing to do.   I sat in the trial every day and listened and watched the courtroom.  My upset was causing me to have feelings that I am not proud of.  I caught myself a few times thinking of how I could get the deputies to step me back and put me in the holding cell with Norwood.  I wanted just 9 minutes with her in that cell so her family could hear her begging and crying and not be able to do anything about it.  I had racing thoughts of how much I wanted to make her look at the photos of Jayna and look at what she had done.  I just wanted her to have some sense of regret and remorse, but all I saw was a shell with no soul.  I saw the same when I looked at her family.  Not one of them shed a single tear or showed any sort of empathy for the Murrays.  Not one of them seemed to be concerned at the heartache and loss that we were feeling.  Not one of them.  Their calm and absence of disgust with Norwood was numbing.  Not only was she lacking a soul but it was clear that they were only making excuses for her and they would think of anything to excuse her actions. 

On Sunday, November 13^th I began writing more of my impact statement and was listening to my morning Sunday ritual of Meet The Press.  They were talking about the Penn State situation and how it may not have been illegal not to report what they saw or suspected, but it was morally wrong.  One of the senatorial/congressional guests pointed out the murder that rocked his community in Bethesda and the nation; how the Apple Store employees were so wrong and a girl was murdered when they could have done something and didn’t.   He was talking about Jayna.  He voiced his disgust across national airwaves.  He never knew Jayna, but this has affected him and pointed out that it shook him and his community.  If it bothered him enough for him to bring it up when he was a guest on Meet The Press talking about something else, then think of how much it has shattered the lives of those of us that knew Jayna, and/or her family or friends.  It is a scar that will never heal and a wound that will forever deepen with the loss of milestones that were never able to be shared with Jayna.  

Thanksgiving has been especially hard this year.  I have had flashing thoughts of the Murray family periodically through every day and moment.  I think of the void in their lives and it reminds me of the void in mine.  My eyes well with tears and my heart aches with both tears from happy times and sadness of the future that was taken away.

As the Christmas season comes and goes I am numb.  I am always checking my surroundings.  I am not trusting and I am somewhat clingy to my loved ones. Those that know me, know that I will have a panic attacks and have an unsettled feeling after all of this.  Christmas has been bad enough for me in years past and this year feels like it is continuously spinning on a broken axis.  I want to make it all better and do things my mothers’ dysfunctional southern way and smile and package everything pretty and pretend everything is ok, but it is not.  There is a wounded empty void that cannot ever be filled.  It is like a scab tries to form to heal the wound and it keeps getting torn off to bleed with every aching thought.  It is a wound that will never heal. 

I addressed all of my Christmas cards and my packages.  It does not matter how many new names are on my Christmas card list this year, there is one name that is gone from my list as well as many others lists – Jayna Troxel Murray.  Her name does not have to be on a list to be remembered, she will never be forgotten.

I mailed out my Christmas cards.  I was tempted to send one to the prosecutors, but they do not know me.  As much as their work was personal to me, it was their job and what they do every day for the citizens, just like I do in DC.  It is never personal or emotional until you know the person or the families.  I know from my job that you cannot let it be personal.  But this time it was personal, and this has torn me apart and made me question everything.   No one knows or has any idea how many lives this case impacted because some people close themselves off and cannot express their words, others repress it and others are so numb by it they cannot function.

There is not one day that a thought of Jayna or one of her family members does not go through my mind.  I am flooded by what ifs and questions of how they must be feeling.  I am haunted by that terrible feeling when you want to call your loved one; but reality appears and reminds you they are forever gone.  I am haunted more at the thought of that phone call that you do not want that your loved one has perished.   When your loved one is in the military you fear the service car and the uniform at your front door, when they retire you have a delusion that all the danger is gone.  When something like this happens in your community you realize that there is more danger here that you ever wanted to accept.  Reality forces you to accept the absence of a white picket fence.

On December 23rd I was driving down Rockville Pike and a man on a bicycle was trying to kill himself driving into the flow of traffic trying to be hit head on by a car.  I was across the median and yelled for him to get out of traffic or he was going to get killed.  He made it clear that he wanted to.  I called it in to the police and waited for the police to arrive trying to help him.   We tried to find the man with the hope that we would either save him or prevent a driver from having an accident.  The sergeant that was on scene and I were talking and Jayna came up.  He thanked me for calling it in and taking the few minutes to wait and do the report with him.  It brought up how short a time this was in my schedule when it could have prevented a tragedy.  It was less than 10 minutes and all I could think about was the lack of help by the Apple employees.  The Apple card that was shown in Brittany Norwood’s wallet haunts me.  She had points of contact there.  Did she know enough about them that they would not interrupt her calculated murder?   I spent some extra time talking to the officer and talking about Jayna and how this had affected so many, including the police department.  I missed the closing time to where I was going, but that was ok.  I just went the next day.  Nothing is as important as taking a few minutes to help someone and it was more important to talk to the officer after the case and tell him thank you for all that he does.  This case showed only a few of the officers in the Courtroom but there were so many that were involved and never got closure.  It is beyond belief how many people that this case affected and we do not even know.  Some it has affected and they will say nothing, and others who did not even know Jayna were so affected by this that they came to court and watched the case.  Others were close and affected but it was too much for them and more than they could mentally bear.  People grieve and have closure in many different ways and the silence or absence of someone speaking up about this should not be misunderstood for not having it affect them and their families. 

Christmas Eve Candlelight services approached, came and were gone.  I should have gone and been romantically happy with my beau, but my heart was broken.  I could not get the image of an empty space at the Murray’s home out of my head.  I could not stop thinking of how her family would be at church filling up the entire pew, but for one space; the one that Jayna used to fill.  The empty void in their lives tore a space into my heart that cannot be filled.  I feel terrible for her fiancé who has to have more loss than anyone can imagine.  I ask God, “How?”  I want to know “Why?”.  I want to know how this can happen to such a wonderful family.  I want to know how this can happen in  my community.  I want to know why this can be so close and this makes me realize that it could happen to me.

I see the news clips from various news stations promoting their great news over the past year.  It is highlights and excerpts of interviews with David and Phyllis Murray.  It tears me apart.  None of this was great news.  The media did good coverage of it, but it breaks my heart when I see the pain in David Murray’s eyes and hear it in his voice. The day after the trial I was contacted through Facebook from some of Jayna’s friends from high school  They wanted to know.  One woman was someone that worked with Jayna’s dad and was very close to some others that were very close to Jayna.  She said the whole ordeal had devastated their Houston community as well.  She said that Jayna and her Dad spoke every day.   It reminds me of the close bond I had with my father and how devastated I was when he died.  I know the depth of my pain and I know his is far worse because the death of a child before a parent is not a natural progression or cycle of life.  I know the pain and upset I feel when I miss my father, sometimes I break down and I catch myself dialing home to talk to him and reality sinks in that he is no longer there and can only be spoken to in my thoughts and prayers.  I feel that deep pain knowing the ache that the Murrays must feel.    I feel that empty ache when I am dialing the phone and my loved one is not there; I think of David Murray and every phone call that he misses with Jayna that can never be again.  I think of the heartbreak of all of the Murrays and all of Jayna’s friends and extended families.  I think of how we all feel this gut wrenching empty feeling. 

I pull myself together and I go to work and I realize that I am not the same.  I have lost a sense of security that I will never get back.  I have lost that sense of safe.  My metaphorical picket fence has been splattered and stripped of all sense of security and what is right.  My confidence in fellow man has been forever altered.  I work in DC Superior Court daily.  I deal with cases of murder, guns and drugs.  Before it was my job and work that I could separate from my personal life.  Now it consumes me.  I cannot let it go.  I cannot watch a movie that has any sort of violence in it.  Unlike much or society I have not been desensitized but instead have become hypersensitive.  My boyfriend holds my hand, he looks at me and I feel like everything is ok or better.  Then I realize that at any moment he could be taken away from me.  I am thinking about the Murrays and I feel the pain and  the absence and loss of Jayna, and this also brings up so many other lost loved ones.  It opens the wound of losing friends serving in the military in Iraq and Afghanistan and the deeper wound of losing my aunt and cousin to a murder when I was a young child.  I feel the pain encompassing me as I think about my friends the Murrays and I cannot get a grasp today that anything is ever going to be ok again.  I feel unsettled and empty with this terrible loss.

Today I think of how this year is ending and the new year beginning.  I think of one of Jayna’s nephews named Jay.  I know that there is a lot of meaning there and that it is a family namesake.  I look at facebook posts about the excitement he had about Santa this year, yet my heart breaks because I know that as he grows up he will know, but wonder about his aunt; just as I did mine.  I know he will have pictures and memories but just as it has affected us as adults it will affect these little boys too and carry into their adult lives. 

There is not enough time in a lifetime to repay a loss that is so deeply torn through so many people and so many lives and communities.  Words cannot express a loss so great.  There is not one moment of one day that goes by that this case does not affect me.  I would ask that you make sure for the rest of the Defendant’s life she has no possibility and no hope of ever having a sense of life or living, but that her existence from day to day is simply a matter of waiting for herself to die.

Thank you.

Friday Motions

Sometimes you need time to absorb.  Sometimes you have to step back and take a deep breath.  Sometimes you have to take the opportunity to be on record when it is your one free pass to tell it like it is.

Friday was that day for me.  When defense counsel begins projectile regurgitation of lies in the courtroom sometimes you take the opportunity to go on record acknowledging their bologna sandwich.  This was my moment and I own it.

As case number twelve of the docket was called the stench of cheap bologna was coming up the isles with co-defendants' defense counsel.  When they opened their mouths it began spewing out.  And I called it.  Defense counsel flat out lied to the court saying that he had not had any return phone calls from me.  I log everything.  He had over 46 calls from me in the past 45 days.  I was diligent.  I had just talked to him the day before.  And out it came, "You can lie to me all you want in the hallway and I may have to pretend to consider your bologna sandwiches, but DO NOT come into the Court room and lie.  Not in my court."

Yes I have had it.  I said it quick and fast and I was not corrected by the Judge so I know that I wasn't that wrong.  The hearing took less than 10 minutes and yet another continuance on the dragging and lingering of what could have very easily been resolved.

Walking out of he courtroom I could feel my blood pumping through my brain.  I could feel my head throbbing and as I left the building I was blinded by electric pink dreadlocks and a fashion show of just plain bad.  And then I took my deep breath, and decided it was Friday and my only plans the rest of the day were for my vacation next week.  I choose to be in a beautiful place and I choose to leave the drama and Jerry Springer Courthouse showcase behind.   I am certain, it will be here just as it is when I return.

What Is Your Calendar?

Today I telecommuted because it is my day for that and because I can enjoy the preview of Spring which is just like the anticipation of opening Christmas presents while waiting for baseball in the stadium to begin.

Enjoying the outdoors exercising along the paths of the Potomac is truly beautiful and I must say that in the Palisades it escalates your feeling of safety and security so that you do not even realize you are in DC.   That sense of security and rest can be pleasant but the reality and link to the real world is really not there at all.  This is where I want to be today, far away from work because tomorrow will be back to the bowels.

Tomorrow is the scheduled trial date for a Defendant that has no common sense.  The trial date will not proceed because he has had four different attorneys and has done everything to sabotage his own case.  The trial date will end up becoming a status date, thus dragging it on for yet another season.  This Defendant has sat in jail for nearly three years.  He was offered a plea at the beginning where he would have been out of jail in less than six months, but instead he has chosen to go to trial and spent more than six times what he would have served on the plea before he even goes to trial.  When he goes to trial he will be found guilty and he will likely spend the next 25 years in a federal prison.  This is not a way for a nineteen year old to begin their adult life, but he started his behavior long before the state allows drivers' permit.

I look at my calendar and all I can do is flip forward looking at the next dates and weeks that I will be soon traveling to Spring Training.   Baseball has become a way for me to get through one week to the next with something to look forward to.  By the time that the regular season starts I have the entire home stand schedule memorized and adopt that as my calendar.  I do not refer to weeks and dates but rather the games with names of each series.  It would be Philly, The Cubs, The Mets, etc.  and then I measure time with the series and that gets me through the weeks to come.

Spring Training is right around the corner and soon I will be in my own season of Christmas with every game a new present!

When You Are 911

Regular bond hearings could potentially be a routine day but not in the bowels of our court system.  Reality is often said to be better than fiction and today not even a marathon of SVU can beat this twist.

Valentine's Day is over, but the wearing of the green and every shade and variation of it has started a bit early.  While the green defendant stands by her attorney on his bond motion to adjust the condition of her bond, I listen carefully.  This one just might be a good one.  The appearance alone made me take notice, usually it's only the preview of wackiness; today I am right.

Even the Defendant's nails were a bight limey frosted green specially planned and coordinated to wrongfully compliment her collage of green from head to toe including her green croc embossed pleather six inch stilettos with a gold heel.  With that, a ruffled green eyelet skirt over a green leather mini and a green rabbit fur vest.    Suddenly she starts addressing the court.  I say addressing, but it was definitely ranting.  She says, "This is interfering with my freedom and I have to be in Germany to perform.  This is interfering with my ability to earn a living."  The Judge asks her to explain and questions the German reference.  She explains in her understanding but not his, "I am an entertainer and I go back and forth.  I have to be able to go there."  They go back and forth about need and necessity and the Judge is not buying it.   He then hears from the government for their opposition and they are vehemently opposed to the motion.  The Defendant starts going crazy.  The Judge quiets her.  The government asks to put on their witness and the Judge agrees to give them 30 minutes for a hearing at the end of the docket.  The Defendant starts screaming her opposition, "You ain't got no withness.  You be talking crazy cuz I know you aint got no witness."    The motion is to be heard at the end of the docket.  This one seems to be worth staying for.  

The end of the docket approaches and I make sure to pop my head back in the courtroom.  I have seen and heard the Defendant arguing with the attorney in the hallway.  She claims the government must have a useless made up witness.  I cannot figure out what the case is about but she seems rather firm and stubborn about it.  I sit in the back of the courtroom wanting to listen to what on earth this reality Court episode holds.  

The Judge starts the matter back on record.  The Defendant's attorney makes his statement for the record.  The government then tells the judge that they have three witnesses.  The Defendant says, "Hell no, they said one.  They can't change."  The judge asks if it will take more time and is told no, it should be very brief.  The Judge says, please call your first witness.

The first witness is an officer that takes the stand.  He looks very young but well poised.  He takes the stand and is asked a number or questions setting up the occurrence.  He is then asked what he did when he got to the scene and he says, "I said somebody call 911."  The government asked, "What?"  He explained "As embarassing as it is, that is what I said.  I had only been on the job three days and I had never seen anything like it in my life. " Then he explained that he realized he was 911.  He went on to describe a horrific crime scene where a man was lying in a pool of blood with his innards being held in my the victim doubled over grasping himself in pain.  He described the cut from stem to stern, how the paramedics arrived, then how he himself stepped out and became ill.

The second witness was another officer that was on scene describing the same.  The defendant and her attorney were whispering to each other loud enough that I could hear the general jist of, "this is nothing that hurts you or connects you to this."    The government then asks for a few minutes for the next witness.  There is a slight pause and it is for the witness to come out of the witness room and walk into the court.  

The next witness walks slowing into the court with two people on each side and a metal pole on wheels with an IV and colostomy bag attached.  The Defendant was not looking, until the victim got closer to the stand.  Then even I could not have seen this coming.  The defendant stood up and squealed, "What the hell, I thought I killed you!"  She turned into a rage of disbelief screaming and cursing in the court.  The marshals stood behind her waiting for direction from the Judge.    The last witness never had to take the stand and the bond modification was not granted, but instead the Defendant's bond was revoked.

Sometimes when a defendant least expects it, their victim comes up from what they thought was the grave to testify.  Today this victim spoke without saying a word.

Pitch and Catch Your Valentine

Jim Riggleman gave me the perfect Valentine today.  When you expect nothing, everything becomes a pleasant surprise.  Today I already had the best Valentine from Jim Riggleman -- pitchers and catchers reported to Spring Training.   It was springlike weather in DC and to my surprise someone arrived back on a red eye flight just so they could take me to lunch.  I had expected nothing today and I seemed so much more calm than my colleagues and friends.

Happiness filled my day today.  Meanwhile I witnessed people that had the whole day of anticipation for what turned out to be an evening full of hype overflowing the with failed expectations, unrealistic expectations and let down.

I had a fabulously unexpected lunch in a nice quiet tucked away neighborhood restaurant.  I did not even acknowledge that it was Valentine's Day and I wish that the waitress hadn't.   It makes it awkward when you have a lot of other things going on, and you want to let the person you are with point that out.

So after a great lunch and personal lessons at the shooting range,  I went for a good run along the canals of the Potomac.  It was a beautiful day and I had already had my acknowledgement from someone that usually fails to do so, which was a very big deal.  My treat at the end of my run was a much needed latte at Starbucks.  I walked in the door and within seconds the power went out and it went completely black, so no latte.

Nearing the dinner hour, the entire neighborhood was pockets of darkness.   Suddenly there is a whole new use for candles other than romance.  I am saddened not to be able to go home and watch MLB network or check my email and my baseball teams' home pages, but I can have a candlelight evening at home and practice my grips on the baseball Stan Kasten signed for me and gave me at the last game.   I can be the little kid that is most excited about the approach of Spring and how to me that means baseball.

I smile at the end of my day knowing that I have already had my Valentine's Day with nothing but happiness.   I feel happy and fulfilled because more than a box of chocolates or flowers on this day, the best thing is really the beginning of this year's baseball!

The Eve of Yet Another Hallmark Holiday

I am sure that many a person today scurried about trying to find something for their special Valentine tomorrow.  There is all this built up expectation and requirement that spoils the holiday more than anything.  The whole romantic gesture would be so much better if it was on any other day, and it would be more unique and mean more.

For all the happiness and joy and excitement it brings for many, it brings the same upset, regret and anxiety to others.  Personally, I hide on Valentines Day.  It is best described as contrasting to the person on Halloween who does not want to pass out the candy and sits home alone with the lights out.  I just don't think that it is a good time; with all the over expected anticipation for something bigger or something that is not there, there is let down if you participate, so I don't.

I could tell you stories, and romantic nightmares.  There is the story of the guy that put a ring on a girls' finger and said, "How do you think it looks?"  She was stunned, but not as stunned when he said, "I wanted to see how it looked on nice hands before I give it to Debbie because she has stubby hands."  Yes that is a true story.  It happened.  And then there is cupid karma that hit him when he went to Debbie and she told him. "I met someone else in the elevator."  Serves him right and no I will not console you or feed your fish while you are on a broken heart bachelor trip drowning your sorrows and gaining liquid courage for anything you can score.    Then there are the stories that go from broken hearts to revenge and rage.  We have all heard about them, or possibly had our version of what we think was a tragic Valentine's Day.

It's all hype.  It is cute that all the elementary school kids will practice their penmanship and address a Valentine to each classmate.  It is wonderful when a kid brings one home to their parents or someone to whom they want to point out is their special person.  I have had that joy of a three year old pointing out that they loved me more than any one else and it is quite flattering to have a three year old have a crush on you!  But the reality is that for as much happiness and joy that it brings for many, it brings pain and upset for many more.

Tomorrow across The District there will be domestic calls, ranging from serious to nuisance to humor.    Some of the calls will be the reporting of someone not showing up because someone thought they should;  to the person that is insanely jealous and knows that there is someone else so they cause drama.  Others will be for retaliation.  These calls will end up in a broken hearted arraignment docket and can range from delusion to lack of common sense to plain jealously and rage.

I will go to bed and sleep soundly tonight because I have no expectations and am quite happy about it.   If everyone could adopt that attitude they may find things to be a little happier for both themselves and their Valentine.

What Would Your Theme Song Be?

Making preparations for Spring Training puts a smile on my face knowing that it will not be long before I am once again sitting with my baseball friends and having yet another season of batting music.  Yes, I said it, batting music.  It is almost a way of marketing yourself these days as a player; you get a theme song.

Regardless of the failure to retain Adam Dunn or Josh Willingham, I get a twangy smile when a Zac Brown song is on the radio.  When I hear certain songs, it pops a slide show of being behind home plate watching Adam bat up close and personal.  The music relationship to the player has taken on a life of its own.  I have every Kings of Leon CD in both iPod and old fashioned CD version.  When a new CD is released I buy it the day it is released almost as a patriotic ritual to Ryan Zimmerman and my happiness with him being the face of the Nationals for another year.

Knowing that within a few weeks I will be seeing my baseball family puts a great happiness on my face.  It is almost as though we have a self created Spring Break for working professionals who have worked hard all through the winter to indulge in our baseball addiction.  Sure, we will be there for the baseball games, but we will also have beach time, pool time and great dinners and cocktails; all of which require the annual shopping and preparation.

The connection to a suburban shopping mall has never appealed to me, but today I may have figured out why they were actually created.  This creation is so selfish and yet brilliant that I have concluded it that it was never planned or thought out.  It is actually quite possible that subconsciously there is more to how and why they were built than the builders even know.

Shopping in the city walking in and out of varying boutiques, I see varying homeless people.  It is cold, but a warmer day than we are used to in the past few weeks of this winter.  I may feel warm and comfortable with just a light jacket and scarf, but I have not been chilled to the bone day after day wondering where I will get some coffee or something that is not even my choice to eat.    I have approached my day coming out of a warm bed in a nice house, and freshly showered with varying choices of clothes.  I chose not to eat breakfast, but that was my option.

One man on M Street always makes me smile with the creativity in his cardboard signs, usually saying, "Need internet connection.  Please help."  You have to smile.  You know that he has not lost everything, he still has his wit.   I always get him a hot cup of coffee at Starbucks and give him a prepaid gift card which will enable him to get more coffee and a sandwich of his choice.  When I do this he always recognizes me, smiles and says thank you.  I walk on about my business running my errands and focusing on my mission, usually; but not today.

I go in the first store looking for new swimsuits and various other things that are being put in the front windows with the anticipation of Spring.  I do not flinch at the thought of spending over a hundred bucks for less than a quarter yard of spandex to barely cover those parts that would be otherwise considered nudity; its less than one baseball game on my season tickets.  I go to the next store and find a great dress to wear to dinner which cost more than the monthly car payment on my first car out of college.  Leisurely walking from store to store I am passing various homeless people who are registering that it is nearing sunset and they need to find somewhere warm for the night; a place to be safe, and sleep.  By the time I finish my errands, it is beginning to get dark and I attempt to go home.

Going up the steps I am doing my usual "rush to the front door to bolt through and race straight to the bathroom without taking my coat off."  Not today.  I cannot find my keys.  Bobbing from foot to foot, I turn by bag inside out emptying it on my front steps and. . . . nothing.  I have locked myself out.

Starbucks to the rescue!  I dash into my usual Starbucks with a mad dash to the bathroom as though it is my own house.  I made it.  Barely, but I did.  Whew!  So I order my coffee, buy a newspaper and plant myself at a warm cozy table in the corner.  No one around me knows anything is wrong because judging this book by the cover it does not look like anything is.  I call a locksmith, and I have to wait for three hours.  The three hours is fine, I am warm; but I realize in two hours Starbucks closes.  I will be sitting on the steps in the cold waiting for my locksmith, because my cell phone battery is about to die.  It is beeping at me and my phone shuts down abandoning me.

In the time without my phone, and knowing that in two hours I will be out in the cold, my mind constantly races back to the people I saw sitting on the sidewalk today.  They were not sitting inside any Starbucks when it was open because they could not.  I start becoming overcome with the realization that I take my morning shower (or the choice not to take one) for granted.  I had the ability to make phone calls and I had the ability to call someone who could come and aid the situation.  I had the ability to buy coffee and sit inside and be welcome because my appearance and scent was the customer norm and not upsetting the flow of business.  I had that ability, and other people do not.

Looking back at my day after getting back in my warm house and turning on my computer, I think about what a baseball game means to me.  I think about how that is my indulgence and it is not even considered a treat.  On a bet with Stan Kasten, I have attended every home game for the past two years in a row.  I think about how while I am at baseball games in beautiful Nationals Stadium sitting directly behind home plate and having a beer with a Judge or two,  someone else possibly right outside the stadium is going hungry or not having any place to go.

I have a different experience today than others did going to a local suburban shopping mall where the stores are contained in a pretty building with inside walkways.  People walking and shopping and happily scurrying about in a mall are being sold the image of a perfect world.  When you only see pretty, you indulge more.  You have been affected by marketing psychology in more ways that even the marketing architects planned.  You have had blinders put on for you whether you knew it or not.