My thinking today was done in two phases.  In the first phase I was sitting at a California Department of Motor Vehicles center waiting for my number to be called for renewal of my driver’s license. I can’t think of any other location where the mass of humanity in lines and waiting areas represent all but the very oldest and the very youngest citizens. One significant factor in the mix was that “people of color” made up a clear majority. No groups formed except those waiting in a designated area to renew driver’s licenses or vehicle registrations and those applying for driver’s licenses for the first time. The woman in the chair next to mine was wearing the Muslim abaya and headscarf. A turbaned sikh sat in front of me. A young Asian woman fidgeted in her chair trying to adjust her micro mini skirt. A younger man in business suit and tie checked checked his watch every couple of minutes glancing up at the wall clock each time for confirmation. Each time he checked his watch and the clock, he shook his head wearily. Few expressions of frustration rose from any group or anyone except an occasional groan or muted statement of impatience with the bureaucracy that had us penned up waiting for service. In the waiting room we held onto our numbers and watched the digital display hopefully.

The room fell silent when an older woman, probably between fifty and sixty, wearing a modest navy blue skirt and white organdy blouse, walked with as much dignity as she could muster into the waiting area.  Her hair was young and full and blond and too obviously a wig. Her plain face was made up stylishly, but the makeup couldn’t hide mannish features and what seemed to be a faint five-o’clock shadow.  I wondered if she might be a transexual coming to change the designation on her driver’s license from male to female.

My second thinking spell for the day came immediately after I’d passed the driver’s test, got my temporary certificate of renewal, and was told the license card would come in the mail.  I went for a short bicycle ride... and did some thinking.  I thought about how quiet the room got when the woman on her transgender journey came into the area.  I thought about how fortunate most of us are to be able to move anonymously about the world without being noticed, without causing rooms to grow quiet when we enter them.

Midway through the bicycle ride I came upon a wide swath of color just above the roadway where I was riding.  The hillside glowed red and yellow and green. It was beautiful.  It was poison ivy.