Unless I can figure myself out of it, starting Tuesday, I'm a juror.

Truth be told -- due in no small part to a love of Twelve Angry Men and that "defender of womanhood, promoter of manhood" Judge Joe Brown -- I've long dreamed of the day that oversized manifold would arrive at my doorstep. And when I filled it out (truthfully, I assure you), I fell under none of the potential exemptions they listed. But with the semester at fever pitch and graduation looming, I'm not so sure I have time to decide any fates but my own.

I guess I finally get the (hideously unfunny) joke about ducking jury duty. Eschewing work for an indeterminate amount of time, missing classes, motoring to Bellefonte at an ungodly hour of the morning: it all adds up to a royal pain in my neck. And considering the compensation -- something like $7 a day for the first week, hardly enough for a post-trial viewing of Happy Feet at the Garman -- it's a losing proposition just about any way you look at it.

But they don't call it duty for nothin', and sweet lady Justice ain't gonna balance those scales herself. As Americans, we really should plunk ourselves in that box at least a couple times in our lives. The right to a fair trial and a jury of our peers and all that jazz is foundational stuff, and gripe as I may about lost wages and that early-morning drive to the county seat, I owe it to my country to extend my participation in the civic process beyond sending mail and going to parks.

We Americans take so much and give so little back to this country we play such a rough game of tug-of-war with. We gripe about the state of things -- few moreso than myself -- but when it comes to things like jury duty of military service, we're happy to lay down our sword and shield for others to gather up.

True, if ever I was sitting at a defendant's table waiting to be judged, juried and possibly executed, I'd want the people laying their verdict on me to be as willing and attentive as possible, but I know through my own circumstantial reticence to serve it's awfully unlikely the dozen members of my deliberating body won't have some other preoccupation. They may, as I do, want to serve; but it may for them, as it is for me, be wildly upsetting to their life's routine.

I can't help but see the parallels between jury service and New York Congressman Charles Rangel's repeated calls for a reinstatement of a military draft. Rangel's assertion -- that our military brass wouldn't be so cavalier about deploying troops if the sons and daughters of the deciders were on the front lines alongside those working for tuition they couldn't otherwise afford -- holds water on its own, but it makes a larger point about what we should be (but largely aren't) willing to sacrifice to enjoy the fruits of American citizenship. We're a nation that treats community service as a criminal sentence, we have to throw money at people to fight our wars for us, and we're willing to do practically anything to get out of jury service.

I'm much happier to trek 10 miles to Bellefonte to sit in a climate-controlled room than I am to risk my life to fight in a war I don't believe in. But if my country calls upon me in either case, I should be willing to answer that call.

I believe in every American's right to a fair trial, but I don't believe in America's right to risk our young people's lives for indeterminate and petty reasons. But I, like every patriotic American, should be willing to lay down my life for my country in a justified conflict just as quickly as I'd call off work and burn a little fossil fuel to render a verdict.

So Tuesday, if you wore white after Labor Day or tore the tag off your mattress, I'll be ready to decide your fate with the fierce determination of a Henry Fonda. Yeah, it's inconvenient, but life's going to take a backseat to justice for a little while: I've got a civic duty to perform.