Jim the Jailbird

A person’s reputation in the community often has a lot to do with how he conducts himself in public.

And sometimes it has nothing to do with that at all.

One evening a few years ago, I had occasion to pay a visit to our local jail. Some people think I should have been in there a long time ago, but no matter. I finally made it. Not as an inmate. however, just as a simple visitor.

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On the way there, I had to drop off my five-year-old son at the walk-in health clinic where his mother waited for medical attention with his little sister. After I’d left, a nurse who was taking a tally of the growing population of the waiting room, stopped to engage my boy in a bit of chatter.

“My Daddy’s gone to jail,” announced my lad proudly to the consternation of the nurse and the many others awaiting their turn to see a doctor. My wife briefly considered trying to explain the circumstances to the suddenly frowning adults in the crowded room and wisely decided it would be useless to begin a public relations campaign to salvage my damaged reputation. She sensed people edging their chairs away from hers and casting glances of pity towards our children whose father was cooling his heels behind bars for who knows what crime at that very moment. Their children looked over at my children with a mixture of wonder and fear.

Anonymity might have saved the day except for the fact that our surname was broadcast loud and clear by the nurse when it came time for my family to see a doctor.

We don’t live in a big place and there aren’t too many families by our name residing within the city limits. The process of elimination combined with a lucky guess or two might have given away my identity to the few who cared to know it.

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So, it’s possible, in a home or two that night, a few shocked family members might have been aghast at hearing the news that Jim Hagarty, that hard-working, if crusty newspaper editor, was in jail. Some would be amazed, some unsurprised, a few others, perhaps, might be overjoyed. Others might be satisfied that the criminal-justice system in our town is working very well indeed.

However the news went over, there’s not much I can do to retract the item now. Forevermore, in a few strangers’ hearts, I will have become a jailbird. If being so branded keeps a few of them from coming to my door to sell me chocolate bars I don’t need or want, I’ll take it.

©2004 Jim Hagarty

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.