Today is the eve of my birthday, so you know what that means: I had to renew my drivers license. This happens every three, or five, or maybe six years. I don't know. What I do know is that every time I must renew, the office is in a new location. I drove to their last known location on the east side of town, found them gone, but was able to learn their whereabouts from the friendly State Farm agent next door to the licensing bureau's old location. I drove across town (no horrible chore: maybe two miles) to their new location on the west side.

A few years ago, I spotted a memorable short story title in The Atlantic or Harpers: "The View of Me from Mars." The short lesson, because I didn't read the story, is that a pithy title does not guarantee readership. But the title came to mind because of the license photo. When I looked at the new license photo, I let out a sharp "hah!" This reaction differs only in intensity and duration from the tri-panel mirror reaction ("arrrgh, soon I won't be able to see my toes!") that I emit in department store fitting areas. But I intend it to express the same surprise and disappointment. This is, I suppose, the result of a healthy self image, one that goes for long periods without being tested by reality. A rich fantasy life is a wonderful thing, no? Anyway, my reaction prompted a smile from the clerk who had victimized me, apparently fully aware of just how goofy the picture is. It's another one for the ages -- birdeyes, no lips, vacant stare. I have old id's in junk drawers and desk drawers all over the house. I could put up a gallery of these photos from colleges, drivers licenses, and employment id's, caption it "the insititutional views of me," and probably come up with an amusing megabyte or two. Or I could leave well enough alone, and let this newest view of me molder in my wallet. The latter, I think, will happen. One can survive only so much self-effacement.

After recovering, I went to Dillon's in search of their fresh bagels. Finding none, I settled for some Lender's brand. While browsing bagels, I ran into Dr. Pete (who had a sack of the bagels I wanted), another man who deserves a longer profile. See Sam's profile ( a thumbnail really, on November 28), replace "psychiatrist" with "pediatrician," "Honda Civic" with "old Camry," "Hal Holbrookian" with "Elmer Fuddian" (in speech only) -- and you'd have at bottom the same good-spirited, genuinely humane mensch. We visited smugly (but quietly) about the defeat of the recall proposition. The sizeable margin by which the recall failed pleased us both, but we both predict that we haven't heard the last from the pinheads who initiated the petition.

I've got a cold and a fever that will end this day for me early. Bed looks pretty good right now.