I’ve long wanted to serve on a jury, and the idea of being part of secret grand jury proceedings is even more intriguing.

But to do it during a health crisis didn’t sound good.

So when a letter arrived in late May stating I was chosen for grand jury selection with the Mahoning County Common Pleas Court — the first new grand jury since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic — I wasn’t thrilled.

About a week later, a sheriff’s deputy came to my door — without a mask and seemingly oblivious to social distancing — with a summons ordering that I appear as a possible grand juror.

As a reporter who knows numerous people in the courthouse and who has covered several of them during 25 years here, I figured my chances of being selected were slim.

Also I was juror No. 54, and they were selecting about 14 or 15 for the grand jury.

To my surprise, before I arrived, about half of those summoned already were removed for various reasons. I suddenly went from No. 54 to 17.

Potential grand jurors arrived before the 8:30 a.m. reporting time, and we waited 30 to 40 minutes — socially distanced and wearing masks — before heading to Judge Maureen Sweeney’s courtroom.

Practically every person in the jury commissioner’s waiting room were on their phones impatiently waiting to be called to the courtroom.

I’ve been in this courtroom numerous times, but because of COVID-19, it had changed significantly. There were plastic barriers, and we were seated far apart from one another.

Sweeney read the guidelines for being a grand juror. Even though I was in the front row, I could make out only half of what she said.

From what I could hear, she asked if there were reasons why people couldn’t serve on the grand jury. Some people had legitimate reasons, while others were seeking ways to escape jury duty.

It’s a big commitment, so I didn’t blame those with flimsy excuses.

She also brought in the grand jury’s foreman, Mark Munroe, chairman of the county board of elections and retired county Republican Party chairman. We’ve known each other for 20 years, and we acknowledged that with a wave.

I later learned part of the delayed start was due to a mix-up on what day Munroe was supposed to show up for this process.

Sweeney chose Munroe as foreman before we even got started so I was curious about that process.

It turns out the judge in charge of the grand jury makes that decision, and in Mahoning County, several people I recognize previously were chosen foreman.

They include Nate Pinkard, former Youngstown 3rd Ward councilman and ex-Mill Creek MetroParks police chief; Ed Reese, former county commissioner; Eileen Gilmartin, better known as Casey Malone; the Rev. Lewis Macklin; Ed Muransky, CEO of Southwoods Health; Anthony D’Apolito, now a common pleas court judge; and Tracey Monroe Winbush, board of elections member.

As the process evolved, I became increasingly concerned about my possible selection, as there seemed to be fewer and fewer potential grand jurors.

I’ve been called for jury duty twice and almost got seated once. I’m all for it, but meeting almost every Thursday for a number of months wasn’t something I was eager to do. Thursday is the deadline for this column, for getting Sunday articles finished

and it’s otherwise usually among my busiest days.

Prosecutor Paul J. Gains and assistant prosecutors spoke privately to Sweeney for a few minutes. She said that the following people would be excused, and I was among them. It was over fast after the initial delay. The entire thing wrapped up for me by 10:15 a.m.

The grand jury was seated about 15 minutes later and heard five cases that day.

Going through the process was interesting, albeit brief. I figured, if nothing else, it would be a column. Hey, look at that.

Maybe when I’m retired like Munroe, I can be selected to be a grand jury foreman.

Skolnick covers politics for the Tribune Chronicle and The Vindicator.

dskolnick@tribtoday.com