They’re Coming to Take Me Away

Just when I think I have them buffaloed, I pull a trick that is bound to get them thinking they better keep a closer eye on this old lady. Dang!

I went to vote last week. I had a plan to help Ol’ Bill with the voting machine, but the joke was on me. As I showed my driver’s license to prove I was eligible to vote, I was told I was technically not eligible to vote because my driver’s license had expired. What? How could that be? Didn’t I just renew it a year or so ago?

I felt like I was being punished as I took a seat at a separate table to manually fill out my “provisional” ballot while my poor husband wondered what was going on and where I was. I did not ask what “provisional” meant, assuming once I jumped through all the required hoops, they would release my ballot to be included in the final tally of the day.

Luckily, we were voting early enough in the day that I had time to run over to the license bureau and lie about how much I weigh and try my darndest to determine if that was an O or a G or maybe even a C on the eye chart. The poor girl testing me gave me ample opportunity to call it right, but in the end, she was forced to grant me yet another provisional document in the form of my driver’s license.

I took my piece of paper back to the Board of Elections so they could release my provisional ballot and allow my vote to be counted. Now I await my official driver’s license to come in the mail, all the while hoping I don’t have to do any further explaining. However, what concerns me now is the way I signed my name. It was one of those pads where you use your finger to write your name, and I normally just do a quick scribble and go on my merry way. The clerk asked if that was the signature I wanted, and I flippantly said yes and ran for the door. In retrospect, I think maybe I should have taken more time to make my name legible. I’m going to have to live with this one for another four years, if my math is correct. Like it wasn’t, and that led to all this hullabaloo.

A word of advice to those entering the treacherous waters of the “seasoned” citizen. You know who you are. You get the AARP magazine and gravitate to the large-print section of the library. Be very careful. Your children are watching your every move. And they tremble at the thought of what may lie ahead – for them, more than for you. In the backs of their collective minds, they harbor dark thoughts, and one misstep of your inadvertent doing could be your undoing.

What I may think is comical, like my misadventure with the Board of Elections, might possibly lead to “them” – my own family! – watching me more closely in the days and months ahead. I might want to check my surroundings for hidden cameras.

I know my family wants us to remain as independent for as long as possible. We wanted that for our parents. But the reality is sometimes different, and I hate that we are entering those uncertain waters. I promise we will do all we can to stay independent for as long as possible. And I won’t write about any more of our misadventures. You know why.