The auto auction that sells the cars donated for WFDD was scheduled to come by in the morning to pick up Dana’s car. I got a call this evening, however, asking if they could possibly come tonight. They just left, towing Dana’s Buick behind them…and I am sitting here bawling.
I didn’t realize how hard it would hit me to see Dana’s car go. I guess it was just such a symbolic representation of Dana. It was dependable, reliable, old-fashioned, and had some parts that didn’t work so well. It was shiny on the outside, and stained and worn on the inside. And it had stopped running a few months ago. All it really needed was a battery, but since Dana couldn’t drive, and I preferred my Hyundai, it just sat and deteriorated.
I know I made the best decision in donating it to WFDD, a station that Dana and I listened to frequently (when not on Sirius XM), but I just didn’t realize how hard it would be to let go. It’s just a car, but it was so Dana. He loved his Buicks, starting with the one we inherited from my mother (which ended up with Scott Brown eventually). I just didn’t figure on the tears.
Actually, that’s not true. Donating a car is very easy if you carefully follow the steps they give you when you make the initial call. However, if you do something careless like I did, you end up down Alice’s rabbit hole…also known as the license plate office.
I knew I wanted to donate Dana’s car to WFDD. It’s a 2002 Buick LeSabre with a LOT of mileage, so I knew it wasn’t worth much, but I figured that WFDD could use whatever they were able to get out of it. I went on their website, filled out the form, and then I got the call with the instructions on how to do this.
It’s pretty simple. In North Carolina, a notarized signature by the seller/donor is required. No problem! I called my friend Lynn, who happens to be a notary. We met for supper, had a good visit, and got down to business. She got out her stamp, and I signed the title…as the buyer. It had been a long week, and I wasn’t paying as close attention as I should have. Well, that ended that. Now I had to go to the DMV license plate office.
On my first visit to DMV LPO, I was told that it wasn’t as easy as just showing them the title and Dana’s death certificate. They sent me to the Estates office at the Clerk of Court. I entered the building and saw that cell phones weren’t allowed. I had two options – either I go back to the car and leave it there, or I go out to the lobby area and pay a quarter to lock it in a tiny locker. I chose the second option. I put my pocketbook and my belt in the container to be x-rayed, I stepped through the metal detector, and went to the Estates office.
At the Estates office, I had to be interviewed to see what kind of estate file they needed to open for me. Fortunately the lady who helped me was very patient, but once again, I needed documents I didn’t have – a certified copy of our marriage license and a print-out of the Kelley Blue Book value of the car. Printing out the car’s (minimal) value was easy. Our marriage license was another story. I think I know where it is; I believe it’s packed in a box labeled “photos from office,” with the wedding albums. There was no way I was going to be able to easily pull it out and take it over. So, I ended up at the next government office – the Register of Deeds. A few minutes and $10 later, I had what I needed. Back I go to the Estates office.
This time I was smart. I left my phone in the car. Well, I thought I was smart. My pocketbook and belt start through the machine, and they ask, “Do you have a pair of
“Come any closer and I’ll scratch you with my scary scissors!”
foldable scissors in there?” I did; I had them with me the last time I sent my things through that scanner, too. (I didn’t tell them that). Once again my options were to go back to the car (which was actually parked illegally, but that’s another story), or to spend another quarter and lock them in the tiny locker. I spent another quarter. Now I’m back at the Estates office. I have all my forms, and I’m ready to go.
Miss Mary marked what the charges would be, then sent me next door to pay my $11.00 fee. She told me she had a form for me to fill out when I got back. She left it in a clipboard on the counter while I went to pay my fees. Back in the office, I fill out the form and sign it my usual way, with my middle initial. Mary gets it signed, and is about ready to send me on my way, when she looks at the title again, and sees that it is made out to me with my middle name spelled out. So, I have to sign an updated form and get that signed. I finally have my letter to the DMV; I retrieve my tiny scissors, and off I go.
DMV LPO was a little busier by now, so I had a little longer wait. I explain (again) about the mistake I’d made, DMV lady has me print and sign my name twice, and she is notarizing it when she realizes that the buyer’s line has my name on it, too. I explain (again) that I had signed the wrong line, and that’s why I was here at all. She has me print and sign another section of the title (twice), marks through the section I had screwed up, finishes her notary business, and takes $5 cash for the notary service. I finally have what I need to donate the car.
So, my advice to you is, be very, very careful to watch where you are signing, and follow all the directions given very carefully if you decide to donate a car. It isn’t hard unless you make it so, and of course, I did.
This is a different kind of Fathers Day for me. I usually buy gifts and cards for my “kitty daddy.” This morning I was thinking of a Fathers Day back in 2006. Earlier that week, Dana had outpatient surgery to remove a lump on his right thigh. By the end of the week, the surgeon had called us to let us know that the lump was a rare soft tissue cancer called leiomyosarcoma.
Our cat, Spooky, had been acting strangely toward Dana for a few weeks before this. He wouldn’t leave Dana alone; before I was getting equal attention from him. Suddenly he was sticking right by Dana. Spooky would do his best to force Dana to go to bed when Dana wanted to stay up late. Dana would have to go to bed until Spooky was satisfied, then he would get up and go back down to our den to watch TV. Spooky was about to drive Dana crazy.
We always called Spooky our worrier. Dana often said that if Spooky was human, he’d be a chain smoker. So Spooky worried and worried about Dana. We think he knew about the cancer long before we did. Unfortunately, that loving little heart just couldn’t take the strain of all that worrying. Early in the morning of Fathers Day 2006, I heard something being knocked over in the living room. I went to see what the cats were up to, and I found Spooky lying in the floor. I prayed he wasn’t dead, but that prayer couldn’t be answered the way I wanted. I woke Dana up, sobbing that I thought Spooky was dying. I just wasn’t ready to accept what I knew.
Dana later said that losing Spooky bothered him far more than having cancer. As I sit here this Fathers Day, I think about that day. I miss my two boys. I hope they are together in heaven, with Spooky giving Dana all his love.
There’s been so much in the news about the Democratic Bernie Sanders supporter who opened fire on a Republican Congressional baseball practice. Thankfully there were no casualties. Something else is on my mind today, though. I am thinking about a man named Philando Castile.
I’ve never met Phil Castile. I never will. Our lives never once intersected, and probably never would have, but he is on my mind. Why? Because his killer was acquitted today. If Phil had been threatening the man who killed him, or had not complied with the man’s requests, this might make a little more sense to me. However, Phil was doing everything right. Still, it was not enough to keep him from being shot.
The person who killed Castile was not a mugger, but a police officer. An officer who told Castile to get his hands up, which he did, and to get his license and registration, which he attempted to do. However, Castile informed the officers who stopped him (for the 52nd time) that he had a gun and a concealed carry permit. He also informed the officer that he was getting his ID. The officer shot him seven times. Seven. S-E-V-E-N. The Medical Examiner’s office ruled the death a homicide. The District Attorney charged the officer with three felonies, one of them being second-degree manslaughter. The jury, however, decided not to hold him accountable.
I wasn’t there at the traffic stop, so I cannot say exactly what happened. However, there were witnesses, and Castile’s girlfriend started recording after the shooting. It seems pretty clear that the officer decided to shoot when such force was completely unnecessary. Yet the jury acquitted.
It’s been all too clear in recent days that being black in America comes with a warning. That a person can do everything right, and still be gunned down by those in authority. The Medical Examiner and the District Attorney did what many in their shoes would not and have not done; they sought to hold the officer accountable for his actions that ended a man’s life. Then the jury let Phil Castile and his family and friends down. And we all want to know why. Because until everyone steps up and says that what has been happening to our black citizens just isn’t right, and that we won’t stand for it (and by we I mean ALL citizens of the United States, no matter our race, religion, or sexual orientation), this will continue to happen.
So today I am thinking about another life lost, and hoping that more of us, especially those of us with the advantage of a lighter skin color, will stand up and ask, “If all lives truly matter, why are certain ones lost more often than others?” It’s time to recognize that the Pledge of Allegiance that so many are so proud of has an uncomfortable little word at the end–ALL; and a pledge is a promise.
This is a different kind of Fathers Day for me. I usually buy gifts and cards for my “kitty daddy.” This morning I was thinking of a Fathers Day back in 2006. Earlier that week, Dana had outpatient surgery to remove a lump on his right thigh. By the end of the week, the surgeon had called us to let us know that the lump was a rare soft tissue cancer called leiomyosarcoma.
Life As I Know It 