Unwarranted

An arrest warrant just wouldn’t look good on my resume as a court interpreter.

That’s reason enough to make sure I take care of any and all traffic tickets promptly. Not that there have been that many tickets over the years, or to imply I wouldn’t take care of them anyway; but as often as I have to stand before judges, there is a little added incentive. So I can be excused if my sweat glands went into overdrive the other day when my cell phone rang and an electronic voice announced, “This is a message for Shaw...Carol...EEE; this is the City of Rolt...We have a warrant...”

The voice, with that unmistakable authority of the disembodied, went on to inform me that I had failed to pay a traffic ticket and was therefore a Very Bad Person.

First, where in the world was the “City of Rolt”? A reverse phone look-up helped translate that into the City of Rowlett. That made more sense. I actually did get a ticket in Rowlett a couple of years ago, but defensive driving had removed the offense from my record. Hadn’t it?

I pondered whether to call the court for clarification. It was either a mistake or the result of an out-of-body experience: either way, the situation needed to be addressed post-haste. I opted for the anonymity of their online system. The robocaller had provided a case number. I entered it into the appropriate field and was informed “Case Not Found.”

I tried substituting the “A” for an “8” (considering the Rolt vs. Rowlett confusion, that seemed reasonable.) “Case Not Found”, it said again.

Maybe it was case sensitive - no pun intended? I tried playing with upper and lower-case letters and was told repeatedly “Case Not Found”. Eventually, I gave in to the obvious. I would have to call the court. Maybe whoever answered wouldn’t know me.

Murphy, of course, had other plans. The clerk on the other end was cheerful, efficient – and definitely familiar. Not only had she been around for years, but she had once been a student of mine. I launched into an awkward explanation for my call.

Before it got too painful, the clerk interrupted me. “And you got a call saying there’s a warrant?” she prompted. I could hear the grin in her voice.

Then she explained. The court had just installed a new automated calling system. The program was supposed to recognize and ignore closed cases based on their coding. Apparently, one of those codes got missed on implementation, generating a backlog of cases that now appeared to be delinquent - and the court was being flooded with calls from people suddenly haunted by the automated ghosts of old transgressions.

As I hung up the phone, I couldn’t help thinking that the past is never really dead. And that the vast electronic conspiracy through which their computer could call my mobile device and mess with my adrenaline makes anyone’s mistakes everyone’s problem.

To paraphrase the late, great John Donne, ask not for whom the cell phone rings. It rings for me.

Riding the rails

A few challenges met, a resolution or two kept; some sorrows and loss and more than a few frustrations. One more year behind me, a fresh one in the wings.

And instead of sitting home like I usually do, mulling over what shoulda, woulda, coulda been, I decided to finish the year with an exclamation point.

My granddaughters and I started out at IHOP where we had eggs, bacon and strawberry cheesecake pancakes.

Then we rode the train into downtown Dallas. There were few other passengers – in fact, our car was empty except for us. But this was an Adventure. For the entire ride into town, the girls chose to stand, holding onto the straps and poles. Every time the train took a curve, they swayed and giggled and held on for dear life. As we stepped off the train at our stop, I noticed a passenger in the car behind us grinning. It was impossible not to.

A few short blocks away, we came to the Dallas World Aquarium. A street musician danced in the street near the entrance, jazz pouring from his saxophone. We put some money in his tip jar and he stopped long enough to call out "Happy New Year!"

Middle Son joined us at the DWA. It's a pretty amazing place. We wandered around enjoying penguins, sharks, manatees, turtles, a good assortment of birds ("aquarium" seems to be merely the starting point), a sloth, frogs, snakes, lizards, and more. Elder granddaughter stopped for several minutes by the jaguar, waiting to take the perfect picture. Younger granddaughter rode on her uncle's back

We had lunch: younger granddaughter ordered pizza in the shape of a fish. Elder granddaughter tried to look offended when the waiter flirted with her. A stop by the gift shop, a visit with family members who were passing through, and it was back to the train station. The girls once again chose to stand and hold the straps. As they giggled and swayed with every turn we took, I noticed a young woman watching us. Disapproval was written all over her face. Her three young children sat meekly in their seats.

And it occurred to me how grateful I am for my middle-age. A few grey hairs, more than a few too many pounds, a touch of arthritis here and there... what a small price to pay to learn that sometimes cheesecake goes well with bacon. Sometimes you just have to go in search of Adventure. And sometimes the best way to experience life is to stand up straight, hang on tight and enjoy every twist and turn you take.

Happy 2011, everyone! If you see my train go by, I'll be the one hanging onto the strap.