Barbara J. Hamby

Happy Birthday to Me

Next week I’ll have another birthday and this year it’s time to renew my driver’s license. I stuffed my purse with the requisite documents to prove who I am, how old I am, where I live and that I’m a citizen. We have new laws regarding identification in Oregon that are quite strict.  My checkbook made the trip also, since our Motor Vehicles Department doesn’t deal with plastic.

For the first time in my life, I have a driver’s license with no restriction for adequate lenses. For the next eight years I can drive with or without my glasses. I prefer to wear them when I’m behind the wheel because I can see farther. Because I don’t wear them around home, I sometimes forget to take them when I leave. Now I won’t be breaking the law when that happens.

In my very personal opinion, people my age should have their driving tested before they get permission to drive for eight years. However, I’ll never say that aloud. Floyd, who is five years older than I, is due to have his license renewed sometime soon. I have no doubt that he will get another eight years also.

Tonight I’m watching a public broadcasting special featuring Joan Baez. During the height of her popularity, I was struggling to exist, and I know very little about her. A friend who died a few years back accused me of sleeping through the sixties. In a sense, he was right, although I was not into drugs.

For a while during the nineties I met occasionally with a local folk singing group and learned some of the plaintive lyrics of the sixties. I’m enjoying hearing them in Joan’s voice. She’s become a distinguished looking senior citizen.

My driver’s license picture is something else. Distinguished is not a word I’d use for the look.

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