"Keep it simple ..."

LowTide Morning - September 29, 2018

"Keep it simple ..."

I toss Mom's mail on the back seat. I'll check it later—my friend calls this Southern lazy. Later, I flip through the usual junk mail and statements. Then I see it: Fulton County Jury Summons. Are you kidding? Mom is almost 88 and reluctantly doesn't drive.

Okay, I'm sure there is an out for older residents. Yes, there is. You can exempt from jury duty once you are 70 years of age. Can you call and ask to be exempt? Seriously, that would be too simple. No, you have to sign and return a notarized affidavit. Come on; we know they know our date of birth, mother's maiden name, the name of first pet, the color of our first car, et. al. Why does it have to be notarized?

Caught in the net, we comply.

I call my local bank where I do a lot of business. I explain our need to have Mom's statement notarized. "Yes, we can do that."

"Quick, Mom, put your shoes on. We are 'running' up to the bank. If we get this signed, I have a meeting in Atlanta tomorrow, and I can deliver the form to the Fulton County Jury Clerk."

Mom and I jump in the car at 4:30. The bank closes at 5:00. I think we'll make it.

At the bank, I speak to another representative who tells me unless Mom has an account, they cannot notarize this for her. They refer me to Delta Community or the UPS Store around the corner. We are good. I know UPS is open until 6:00.

I stop first at Delta Community and explain what we need and why. "Yes, we can do that for you. We need a photo ID." I whip out Mom's driver's license. The young lady responds, "it's expired." Well, yes, that was intentional. I appeal, "What are we to do? This is the only photo ID she has." The young lady checks with her manager and, "No, they cannot accept the expired license." Okay, "Thank you" (for nothing.)

Maybe my good friends at the UPS Store will accept the expired DL. They know me well. I'm in there at least once per week. We have the same dialogue ending with, "No, we cannot accept the expired ID. But you can get a photo ID for $25 at the Department of Driver Services across town."

Mom and I make a mad dash to the car (picture running in slow motion)and scurry across town. "Mom, we have to take care of this today. You are scheduled to report to jury duty in less than a week."

Where is the DL center? It's not where I remember. Thank goodness, there it is! We fill out forms, take a ticket and wait. Once it is our turn, Mom chats up the friendly lady at the counter. We learn she is from the UK. She tells us that when she travels, her dog has to have a passport. Laughable. What is it with all of these regs?

We reach the part where Mom has to surrender her license. Oh, boy. I hold my breath and wince. Mom signs off. Hallelujah! We now have a new temporary photo ID for $32. We make another "run" for the car and head back across town to the UPS Store. I think we can make it before 6:00.

At this point I vent, "Why can't life be simple? What happens to older people who do not have friends or family to help?" I ponder aloud, "What will happen to me when I am your age?" Mom responds, "I'll help you." Me: "Mom, do the math."

We make it to the UPS Store before it closes. They notarize our document. Thank you!

The next day, after walking a few blocks in the wrong direction and dodging a couple of vagrants, one of whom persists in engaging me in conversation, I make it to the Fulton County office. I turn in the notarized form. The clerk looks over the form and sees the date of birth. Sweet thing asks with raised brows "Is this for you?" Me with a weary smile: "It's for my mother." The clerk tells me to wait while she runs a copy for me. I take the copy, stuff it in my bag and dash once again for the car.

One hour later, back home, I unload everything from my meetings. I pull out Mom's document. What? Is this a juror badge attached to a statement, "You are hereby summoned to appear ..." sigh. I call. Repeatedly. One of the listed numbers is out of order. Finally, I get through to a person who can check the system. Not to worry. We're good.

You get the picture, right?

It took hours to square up everything in response to the summons. I think on behalf of those who are elderly and have no supports I'll ask my representative to draft a bill that would mandate jurisdictions to accept a phone call or online method of opt-out.

Is a simple life too much to ask? While I'm at it, I'll also ask life for that cabin near the coast.

~ LowTide explorer, Carolyn Fjeran

[LowTide is an eclectic collection of discoveries and reflective writings.]