OLD GUYS RULE!


Today in retaliation to the incompetency of local government inadequacy, Dr. A rose at five a.m. and joined the waiting line at the DMV to politely inquire where the heck his driver’s license was hiding within their files.

Paperwork in hand, and a somewhat pleasant attitude in place, he put the question of age to them. “Does the fact that I am 92 years of age have anything to do with putting my license in the holding file?” As our daughter reminded me, does the fact that he has never had an accident, that he drove over 300,000 miles a year over all kinds of terrain, and that his faculties are intact, mean nothing?

His Danish charm in full operation, they put him behind the wheel of his car to demonstrate that he still had it, and renewed his license for two years. It is truly a day of celebration!

AGE DISCRIMINATION?


It’s apparent that there is discrimination against pit bulls, people of other color and/or cultures. We are reminded that this is not a good thing. Get to know them and maybe you’ll like them. Except maybe the pit bulls. Other than the occasional rude hand signal or honked horn, people are generally kind to the elderly.

My puzzled rant today is against the DMV. Dr. A applied for his license renewal last February in advance of his May 92nd birthday.
He aced the test, but needed his eyes checked. He took the form in to the doctor and she signed it. The DMV lost the form, so he did it again. Still nothing so he went into the DMV where they gave him an appointment for sometime in July. When he didn’t hear again, they gave him another extension in September. Yesterday he got a phone call from DMV telling him to come in for a driving test next week. When he went over they said they knew nothing about it.

Could it be age discrimination?It’s hard enough being 92 without people thinking you are old.

I agree that older drivers may not be as sharp as in the past, but renewing a license to drive locally in daylight as long as all the other faculties are intact seems fair. Licenses are given to people who cannot speak our language and to thousands of teenagers without a second thought. Case in point, we have a large round about at the corner which teenagers routinely race into and around in the middle of the night. I don’t remember any nonagenarean doing this.

MILESTONES


002 A quiet place to sit in the corner of the yard.

I’m not sure that there is a word such as “dailyness” to describe how people run their everyday activities. I suppose “routine” is a better word. Things change with the years. When you are working for someone else your time schedule operates on their schedule, but in retirement, you can pretty much do as you please. I always thought you would have more time than you could use when you were retired. This is not so.

I see we have mixed up our routine as the years pass; while we used to rise early and hit the trail for long walks/runs, we got out of that habit after my accident and have now become slug-a-beds. Coffee and the lousy local newspaper take up another bit of time. I feel bad about it, but it’s too much trouble to try and change.

While my car automatically turned into shopping malls years ago, it has now programed itself to go to medical offices. Even the habits of a non-organic machine have changed

Sam is ready to renew his driver license along with what appeared to be half of Fremont. The parking lot at the DMV was full as usual, but we found a spot right in front, near about 50 people waiting outside, most with cell phones pressed to their ear. Lots of pacing back and forth, no smiles, no interaction. Lots of odd looking characters, including one looking for a handout. Another person wearing a headscarf which covered the bottom part of the face and wearing large dark glasses while pushing an empty baby stroller. I made a milestone decision while waiting, which is not to renew my own license.

I find myself doing odd things such as going into a room for one thing and ending up looking at ten. Something always needs straightening or throwing out. As imagined, the studio is the worst. The lovely lady who helps us would love to clean in there, but I have assured her that all those piles of paper are important half finished projects I will get to when I find time.

In the meantime I can go sit in the garden and enjoy just doing nothing.