Adventures at the Division of Motor Vehicles

I lost my driver's license in my car. Sad isn't it? I have a cup holder and a little slidey door that covers it up. For some bonehead reason I put my license on top of the slidey thing and............ you guessed it. I slid it back and my license dropped into the bowels of my car. Knowing it is illegal to drive without a license I drove directly to my local DMV to replace it.

I am not sure what was going on, but the place was packed. Dad and I found a seat and proceeded to wait. After we had gone through the contents of the diaper bag, snacks consumed, magazines read, boredom set in. Dad began to look around and realized the place was packed with soldiers.

The soldiers were all very nice young men and smiled nicely at my Dad as my Dad stared at them. Soon Dad leaned over to me and whispered, or so he thought, it was more like a dull roar,

"Who are those people?"

I explained that they were soldiers. My Dad replied with "From what country?" I explained they were American soldiers and they were wearing a new uniform for the new war. BIG mistake. Dad became a little agitated and wanted to know what war. I explained that we were at war with Iraq. He looks at me very seriously and says
"Why would we be at war with THEM?"

At this point the soldiers cracked up and started sharing the story with others that had not heard. The whole place is laughing and Dad is oblivious to the riot he is causing. He again asked about the uniforms. I explained that back in 1950s during the Korean war, they had different uniforms (Dad was drafted during the Korean War). He looked at me quite seriously and said
"What do you mean BACK in the 50s?"

I couldn't help myself, I started to giggle and the place went nuts. I gathered my composure as they called our number and reassured my Dad we had not been invaded and all was well.

The nicest part is all the soldiers either spoke to my Dad or patted him on his way out the door. He felt warm and loved and they felt apart of something special. And it was special, because I allowed it to happen. I allowed my Dad to laugh, be loud, be outrageous, let him be who he is NOW, not who I wish he were or who he would be if he did not have dementia.