Keeping Your Teeth To Yourself, and other stuff...

The Idaho DMV is no longer allowing people to show their teeth when getting a picture taken for a new driver's license.  Apparently showing a big ol' toothy grin messes up the new facial recognition software designed to help the state stop identity theft.  I read this story a couple of days ago in the local paper and, naturally, had to reach for my wallet to make sure I was not in violation of this new mandate even though my license was a couple of years old.  To my relief I found my picture to be in compliance as it merely made me resemble a mentally deficient vagrant who could be either toothless or hiding an amazing set of choppers.  I also noticed, for the first time, that my hair color is listed as "bald".  Perhaps that explains all the smiles flashed my way by the elderly matron who took my picture and my money.  "I'll fix this California chrome dome," may have been her mantra.  Whatever the case it's good to know that my tight-lipped follicle free visage is quite accidentally in compliance with the new spud state rules.  

This news had me remembering the number of driver's licenses I have carried which featured no picture and were mere pieces of paper containing my name and address.  When did the plastic authorizations with our pictures happen?  I really can't remember.  It's like that now.  The older I get the more I realize that many things are far different than they were just a couple of years ago.  And, it also seems as if every time I ponder that dilemma, a "couple" of years winds up being twenty or thirty.   

For example:  Where did white wall tires go?  How about curb feelers and fender skirts?  Table radios or, for that matter, just plain old radios.  Try to buy a radio in any electronics store today and you'll see what I mean.  Hula hoops, full service gas stations and fifteen cent hamburgers are missing in action as are water beds and rocking chairs.  Most of we boomers remember rockers from our grandparents house or recall their resurgence when JFK made them cool again.  Try to remember the last time you saw a rocking chair in a furniture store.  (I know, Lazy Boys are far better, but rockers were kind of cool.) 

I still have my grandmother's rocker.  It must be at least 100 years old by now.  I'm thinking seriously of taking it with me the next time I head for the DMV and a license renewal.  They can snap my likeness as I rock slowly and show off a very large mouthful of those novelty Bubba Teeth I bought at the Exxon station.  It'll fit right into my life plan to remain idle and dependably entertaining.

Idaho DMV,  I CAN'T LIVE BY YOUR RULES!!

Grandma Copper's rocking chair ready for action.

Available wherever the Hillbilly lifestyle is embraced.