Sociology of the DMV

I allocated time before a 12:30 conference call for a trip to the DMV. The main purpose was to renew my car registration, which could have been handled by mail or online, but I had a secondary purpose of reactivating my cryptic vanity plate, MIQL. Frustration was instantaneous. When I arrived the parking lot was full and a line of at least 20 people stretched out the entrance. Oh, the perennial joys of the DMV. Very little had changed since I got my driver license in 1973. But you adapt: When you go to the DMV you expect inefficient bureaucracy, impersonal treatment, insufficient documentation, and waiting, waiting, waiting. When you wait, whether in a shuffling queue or seated in molded plastic, you wait with the masses. The word "masses" feels unkind, but to me this is the immediate impression. There are so many people--people who are different from those who live and work in our enclaves. Many of our fellow citizens are grossly overweight, or are heavily pierced and tattooed, or speak a different language, or speak English differently. Yet to visit the DMV is to be reminded that we are part of a big world peopled in variety. My small heart may not be up to the challenge of recognizing the dignity in all. Fortunately, there is One who does, and who loves each one deeply and personally.