Last night I got a call at midnight.... I'm thinking what the heck is SBC doing with a telemarketing call this late at night, and then I realize it's a collect call, from the county jail. Hmmmmm, this is good. I accept and find a drunken friend on the other side of the line telling me I need to get him out and that I should maybe contact some guy that used to be a great attorney but retired a few years ago but really knew his dad well. I ask if bail has been set, and get a "no"... ask what he has been charged with and get "8 counts of various things, including a felony"... Nice. I tell him to go to bed and I'll see what I can do in the morning.
6:08 am, another collect call. This time I take the menu prompt to find out just how much these collect calls cost. Gee, only $4.50 for a phone call that travels about 4 miles to my house. Still no word on charges, but a plea to go take care of his new puppy.
I spend an hour at his house taking the cute little thing outside, feeding it, changing it's pee-soaked bedding. I'm trying to deal with the frustration of getting any information out of the sheriff department automated phone system as the pup devours my shoe laces.
I go home, say good morning to my daughter, and await my niece getting dropped off. A couple more collect calls, more fumbling instructions and requests. If I can't get this father of two sprung today, he will spend Christmas in jail.
A little after ten we head downtown, riding the city bus per my kid's wishes. I decide to make the best of it, and turn it into a civics lessons for the eleven and twelve year-old girls. "This is how the judicial system works. This is what you do when your drunken friends need to be bailed out of jail." Real world learning, best learned first hand. A trip to the jail, a quick saunter over to the bailiff, a foray to the D.A.'s office. Three phone calls to the best attorneys in town. Success - a bail hearing at 2, in the last batch before the holiday shutdown.
The girls and I then mosey down State Street to finish off our shopping. We hit a few shops, buy a few odds and ends. Halfway down from the capital, I run into my favorite politician, Senator Russ Feingold, and his wife Mary. They are out finishing up their hannukah shopping. We shake hands, exchange pleasantries, and continue on.
We cap off our trip with ice cream, a half block from the capitol. True Wisconsinites, sitting outside in 26 degree weather, eating cones and waiting for the bus.
A couple hours after getting home, one final collect call. Can I come get you in an hour? Sure....
I pick him up, and take him back to his house. He's in a daze, talking of police charges, loud arguments, embarassing his kids, huge legal fees, and even suicide. I tell him to go sleep.
I get back home, and finish playing Yahtzee with the kids. It's starting to snow, and we might have enough for a white Christmas.
