Category Archives: Philosophizing

Bureaucracy at its finest

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You know the Paul Simon song “The Afterlife”? It’s the one where the singer imagines he has died, and even just to enter Heaven, in his words:

You got to fill out a form first
And then you wait in the line

Well, let me tell you, I know for certain now that Paul Simon never had to deal with the California Department of Motor Vehicles. I am not so lucky. Today, I had to go to the DMV to correct an error they had made on my driver’s license renewal some three or four weeks ago, and I hadn’t seen until the new license arrived in the mail two days ago.

I would have done anything to avoid going in, and judging from their website, that would have been their preference too. I might have been able to correct an error in my name or address, but they had gratuitously issued my new driver’s license with the restriction that I must wear corrective lenses.

Where had that come from? >dramatic shrug< Who knows? I had come in with a DMV form 926 properly completed by my optometrist stating that my vision is within acceptable parameters. The DMV had accepted the form as correct and waived the eye exam.

But when the brand new license came in the mail, behold! Corrective lenses required. And there was no recourse but to go in to have it corrected. I made an appointment for 9:10 a.m. in order to avoid, well, waiting in line. But of course there was a line for people who had made appointments in order to avoid waiting in line, and so . . . I waited in it.

When my turn finally came, I was told that I would have to complete a new application in order to make the correction, and for that — yes, you guessed it — there was another line I needed to wait in.

When my turn came around, the friendly staff member told me I had to — yes, you guessed it — fill out a form first. This, I was able to do at a computer electronically and was issued some sort of verification number I would need when I — yes, you guessed it again — went back to wait in line again.

The staffer reviewed the form and told me there would be a charge to issue the corrected license. Name and address corrections were free, but this . . .

I objected. It wasn’t my fault! I had done everything right! It was entirely a DMV error!

Luckily, the staffer was kind, and she had the authority to waive the charge. I just had to take my machine-issued control number and . . . wait in another line.

At the other line, I was issued a different number and told to . . . wait in the line. This time, luckily, I could just sit and wait for my number to be called. Time passed. I caught up on today’s news and on my emails. More time passed. I did a few of the puzzles from the New York Times. Finally, my number was called, and I was sent to — you knew this was coming, didn’t you? — wait in the first, no, the second line again.

This time, the staffer informed me that I would be issued a new (hopefully correct) license, and for this I would need a new photo. And for this — you saw this coming, didn’t you? — I had to wait in another line.

While waiting, I over heard the following at the next window over:

Customer: [requests the service he’d been waiting for]

Staffer: “We don’t do that here. You have to go outside to the kiosk and wait in line over there.”

I am not making this up.

Photo taken, I was told to — no joke, this really happened — go back and wait in line again at the other window, where I had to carefully review a form that did not indicate whether or not I needed corrective lenses, while the staffer printed out several forms for the DMV’s records. After receiving my approval, she also printed out some forms for me: a temporary driver’s license, and a $0 receipt for the charge that I did not pay.

By my calculations, I waited in line seven times, and participated in the generation of at least four forms, two control numbers of some kind, and one photograph. The visit took two hours, but at least I wasn’t charged for it. And I was free to go.

Paul Simon, you ain’t seen nuthin’!

The dragon within

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Most people are familiar with the image of St. George and the dragon. Here’s one, for example, in Budapest:

St. George & dragon in Budapest

Pretty classic, right? Guy on a big horse slays a wicked-looking reptile with a long spear from a pretty safe distance. (Well, not so much for the horse, of course, but they have to put the man and the beast into the same statue, right? So there are space constraints. 

There’s a classic St. George on the facade of Casa Amatller in Barcelona, too. (Casa Amatller, designed by the architect Josep Puig i Cadafalch in about 1900, is right next door to Gaudi’s somewhat more famous Casa Batllo.)

Despite the lack of a horse, it’s pretty easily recognizable. The guy’s on the top, and he has armor and a shield. And (if you look closely) the obligatory spear, with which he has skewered the beast through the head and the heart.

When it comes to St. George and the dragon, let us be clear, there is not much of a contest. The beast is ferocious, but we are given the surety that the brave-hearted (and well armored) man wins.

But the artist is playing with us, as it turns out. There are not just one but three St. Georges with their dragons on the facade of Casa Amatller. 

This second St. George appears to be a parody. It shows a rather extreme version of the man-over-beast story. The man is a performer with a tambourine not a spear, and the beast has turned into a dancing bear. No harm to anyone here. Not a chance of nightmares. But look at what has become of the man. He makes a living with this defeated creature, but that’s all. If the beast isn’t much of a dragon, neither is the person much of a man.

The third St. George speaks to me deeply. Here, the man wears only a thin cloak, and he is wrestling with a beast that is his own size, maybe bigger. It’s not clear who will win. Look closely. If the man is strangling the dragon, the dragon also has his claws into the man, raking his arm. Leaving wounds that could be slow to heal. 

This one, at least, is an even contest. 

This one feels real to me, for we all struggle with our beasts. We all struggle to be more than beasts ourselves. Every psychologist will recognize this conflict. Every artist will see in it the creative process. Even Plato described the act of creation as “reason persuading necessity.”

For a long time, I placed this image of the creative struggle on the top of my home page, but it’s dark, and it’s difficult. It may capture you, and it may draw you in, but not in a way that will invite you and make you feel at home.

Please do come in. Please do feel at home in these pages. There is much of beauty and of joy here. But let’s just remember that it’s not a dancing bear lurking there in the dark corners–it’s a dragon.

Views near Golden Grove

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Dan and I have been here on Block Island since Thursday, and just as the United States Weather Service forecasted, it’s been cloudy and occasionally foggy and rainy. It’s been beautiful, and I’m not complaining. It’s always beautiful here on the island. But the last thing we expected was any kind of color at sunset. So, imagine our surprise when…

This is a gift. This is why we’re here on the island.

This is why we human beings are here on this Earth. The planet is beautiful, and we are here for only a short time. Appreciate it. Take care of it.

 

Bureaucratic irony

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I can’t deal with bureaucracy. Having a delicious sense of irony only makes this problem worse. Take, for example, this actual sign on the US I-91 highway in Connecticut, regarding the exit onto Connecticut Rt. 3 North:

NO PERMITTED LOADS ALLOWED

I am not making this up.

If the load were not permitted, would they allow it? Does anyone besides me see a problem here?

Never been lonely…

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A little while ago, Dan went on a business trip to Austin, Texas. When he came home it was late–after 10pm–but he was completely energized. And the reason was unexpected. He’d thought he had an empty seat next to his, always a pleasure on these days of (over)crowded airplanes. But at the last minute, a young woman with a four-month-old infant sat beside him. The child was fussy when the plane took off; his mother, apologetic. But we’ve taken our children on airplanes since they were that little, so Dan understood. And he was fascinated by the baby, who held Dan’s fingers so tightly that its little fingers had to be pried off. Who looked at him as if he was the most interesting creature to cross its path since the first day of creation. And hey, maybe he was.

I was reminded by this story, as I often am, of song lyrics. When I brought the song into focus, it turned out to be Paul Simon’s “Born at the Right Time”:

I see them in the airport lounge 
Upon their mother's breast 
They follow me with open eyes 
Their uninvited guest 

Never been lonely 
Never been lied to 
Never had to scuffle in fear 
Nothing denied to 
Born at the instant 
The church bells chime 
And the whole world whispering 
Born at the right time 

Well, and aren’t we all “born at the right time”? Babies are so full of promise and hope. Even young adults go out into the world, and the world tries hard to give them a break. Four years of college help them learn to be out on their own. They can do anything; all they have to do is choose. Internship positions offer work experience. Entry-level positions are made for them, not for the exit-level elderly.

Later, jobs don’t work out. Promotions are denied. Positions are downsized. Unemployment runs out. Marriages end in divorce. And the world situation, if they care about that, is getting bleaker. Depression. Medications. Arrgghh, back pain. And the chances of finding work after age fifty or so? Those entry-level positions aren’t for you any more, buddy.

Never mind. Empty nesters now, we can finally really enjoy ourselves and live the lifestyle we convince ourselves we always really wanted. People I know go on cruises, several a year. Travel. Play golf. Tennis. And as for those things we wanted to do when we were younger–you know, help to end poverty; protect the environment; work to ease the burdens of the downtrodden; seek social justice… We still believe in these things, but we no longer believe there’s very much we can do to make a difference. Except give money.

Shall I go on? We find we really love those elderly, magical people, our parents, more than we suspected at age fifteen that we ever would. But they are getting frail. Maybe also senile. They need care. Lots of care.

And we can see that, thirty years down the road, that’s where we’re going to be–old and frail, maybe suffering from dementia, and waiting, terrified, to die.

Not born at the right time any more, are we?

If you look at it that way, life is one long, slippery fall from grace.

Personally, I don’t believe it has to be this way. Maybe we were hoping for that empty seat next to us in a crowded plane, but the baby beside us turns out to be much, much better. Yes, we’ll lose jobs; have enough money to retire, or not; get old and frail. But no matter our pains, suffering, or disappointments, the opportunity for grace shines through in every moment of our lives if only we seize it.

Live fully and well. It’s all that’s left us, and it’s not half bad.

Best of Both Worlds

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I wrote this in April but somehow neglected to publish it back them. Please allow me to rectify this situation now.

———————–

I am in a meeting with some two dozen people. We are on a break. While quietly checking my email, I can’t help but overhear a conversation between two of my colleagues standing behind me. I’m not really listening, so the conversation wakens into my conscious slowly. It seems to concern where a person might want to live. One of the people lives in what I believe may be upstate New York, in a rural area not far from a town or city. She says, “It’s the best of both worlds.”

I don’t interrupt the conversation, but what I’m thinking is: “Good as far as it goes, but what about the cold?”

The best of both worlds. As if there were only two of them! How narrow our expectations are. I’m not arguing for a Panglossian “best of all possible worlds” but surely we can do better in our optimization than just two.