Toward the end of her life, the Commonwealth of Massachusetts declined to renew my grandmother's driver license.She raged against them with all her might, fighting furiously for this last, lonely bit of independence but it was to no avail. She was barred from the road due to age and failing eyesight and she railed against their ruling until the day she died, bitterly complaining about how her tax dollars were being spent, condemning them for their decision and threatening legal action against every public official. It was a bitter pill and she never quite swallowed it.
The real issue, of course, was not her ability to drive safely, but what it represented - the loss of her independence. She was doomed to rely on alternate transportation from her family, from friends, from anonymous taxi drivers who often spoke little or no English and drove like hellfire was behind them only to get hopelessly lost and cause her to be late. She despised being housebound and dependent, hated having to ask someone to take her somewhere, couldn't tolerate not being able to do her own shopping and errands. The Lincoln Continental sat in the garage and gathered dust, a daily reminder of the DMV's dictatorial injustice. She refused to abandon it or sell it and only allowed my daddy to drive it on those infrequent occasions when they were making long trips. When a neighbor lady needed a place to park her own car, Nana rented her the empty space beside the Lincoln and I think it comforted her that the old car was not alone. I would often find her at the kitchen window, staring out at the garage with a grim expression, car keys in hand, as if she were willing them both back to productivity and usefulness. The loss of her license was an unbearable insult to her dignity and her sense of self - it had "senior citizen" written all over it, an expression she held in the most serious contempt. Imagine some damn fool pencil pusher telling me I can't drive! she muttered across the breakfast table, Who in the hell do they think they are.
A few days ago I was driving in the left hand lane of a four lane highway and from my right a dark blue Cadillac pulled out into traffic. When I realized she was not simply going to turn right into the near lane but keep coming into the lane I already occupied, I had to pull into an oncoming lane of traffic to avoid her and I missed her by a whisker - completely unfazed by the near miss, she didn't even slow down or appear to notice how close a call it had actually been. She was about my grandmother's age and I suspect she shared Nana's attitude about her right to drive and damn the consequences.
Sympathize as I did with my grandmother, there is a time to let go gracefully and let others carry the burdens.
The real issue, of course, was not her ability to drive safely, but what it represented - the loss of her independence. She was doomed to rely on alternate transportation from her family, from friends, from anonymous taxi drivers who often spoke little or no English and drove like hellfire was behind them only to get hopelessly lost and cause her to be late. She despised being housebound and dependent, hated having to ask someone to take her somewhere, couldn't tolerate not being able to do her own shopping and errands. The Lincoln Continental sat in the garage and gathered dust, a daily reminder of the DMV's dictatorial injustice. She refused to abandon it or sell it and only allowed my daddy to drive it on those infrequent occasions when they were making long trips. When a neighbor lady needed a place to park her own car, Nana rented her the empty space beside the Lincoln and I think it comforted her that the old car was not alone. I would often find her at the kitchen window, staring out at the garage with a grim expression, car keys in hand, as if she were willing them both back to productivity and usefulness. The loss of her license was an unbearable insult to her dignity and her sense of self - it had "senior citizen" written all over it, an expression she held in the most serious contempt. Imagine some damn fool pencil pusher telling me I can't drive! she muttered across the breakfast table, Who in the hell do they think they are.
A few days ago I was driving in the left hand lane of a four lane highway and from my right a dark blue Cadillac pulled out into traffic. When I realized she was not simply going to turn right into the near lane but keep coming into the lane I already occupied, I had to pull into an oncoming lane of traffic to avoid her and I missed her by a whisker - completely unfazed by the near miss, she didn't even slow down or appear to notice how close a call it had actually been. She was about my grandmother's age and I suspect she shared Nana's attitude about her right to drive and damn the consequences.
Sympathize as I did with my grandmother, there is a time to let go gracefully and let others carry the burdens.
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