spynotes ::
  September 15, 2006
Home of the Brave

Sun! We finally have sun! And it is a good and glorious thing. It has been raining for a week straight, or so it feels. There is a spectacular crop of mushrooms in the planter on my front porch, and an even bigger one under the big pin tree on the corner where we turn to walk to AJ�s school.

I spent the morning out of the sun, sitting in the waiting room of the local social security office, waiting to apply for a new social security card. My new one has been missing almost since I received it in the mail five or six years ago. I managed to talk my way around it the last time I filled out paperwork to teach, but I really don�t want to put the nice administrator who helped me get paid last time through all that craziness again. I figured I should do what I could to get the appropriate documentation.

There is nothing like a trip to the Social Security office to remind you that there are indeed poor, tired and huddled masses galore, all waiting for the government to tell them whether or not they are allowed to breathe free. It was a regular parade of the afflicted. I had remembered my coffee but forgotten my book and since the TV was tuned to an infomercial, which the security guard seemed to be watching intently, I did what any self-respecting person would to entertain herself � I eavesdropped. The first man up was with his mother, an immaculately dressed woman who spoke only Polish and kept waving her Polish passport in the air with a helpful smile. Next was a woman in dirty sweatpants trying to figure out how to get her mother�s social security checks when her mother, who lives with her, is so ill that she can neither walk nor speak. She doesn�t know her mother�s social security number. Next came a woman who was trying to understand why she got two checks this month, one for disability and one for welfare. A couple who had retired and were already collecting social security were wondering what would happen if they started their own business. How much money would they have to make before they couldn�t collect?

The woman at the desk was infinitely patient. Until it was my turn, all I could see of her were here claw-like nails with an artificial French manicure. But her calm voice soothed the irate, brought reason to the unreasonable and explained everything. She already looked tired by the time my number was called at 10:15. I arrived with my forms already filled out and a folder full of documents and she looked grateful to have something simple. She asked me a few questions, gave me a receipt and sent me on my way. I returned to my car parked in the lot in the middle of a corn field and sang along with Beck as I drove home through amber waves of grain.

3 people said it like they meant it

 
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