My husband was driving at twelve years of age. His father, who was a chicken peddler, often wanted his young son to go out and move his half-ton pickup, because he was too tired or lazy, or just didn't feel like rousing himself to make the effort himself. By the time he was fifteen and working at a factory that produced chrome-and-arborite tables and chairs, he would unload trucks and move the beasts around himself at the request of his supervisor.

When we were young my husband thought it would be a good idea for me to learn to drive. He was prepared to teach me, and gave me a few lessons, but I wasn't enthusiastic about it, and always ended up saying I'd rather not. At various times throughout my life I thought it wouldn't be a bad idea to drive, but disinterest and lethargy aligned to convince me in the final analysis that it just wasn't my thing. At 65 I changed my mind, took a driver's ed course in a class full of bumptious teens, followed through with practise-driving, then allowed inertia to get the better of me, and my temporary driver's permit lapsed. After which I was happy not bothering with driving again, even though my husband urged me to persevere.

All of which to say that I have never wanted to drive, and as a result simply haven't pursued a permanent driver's license. Which, in today's world seems to be the guarantor at presentation that you are who you purport to be. Your photograph and all the other information contained on the driver's license is what those in position of authority ask for as proof of you-yourself's existence.

Which brings me to the polling stations open now for a four-day advance poll for those eager to cast their vote in the upcoming federal election. We have always chosen to vote in advance polls. This year, for some reason Elections Canada decided to change voting venues, which has caused some consternation for a lot of people. What's more the new rules being pursued which aren't really new, only been more enforced have caused a bit of a bureaucratic bottleneck. Reports from various sources are that in this hotly contested election, more people are coming out to vote, finally, as evidenced by the turnout thus far at the early polls.

Which translates into long waits for the opportunity to cast one's ballot, largely, it seems, due to bureaucratic inefficiencies. If our experience is anything to go by, this is certainly the case. We know, from having read through the list, which type of identification is acceptable to do the trick. Utility bills, bank statements, with name and address, residential tax invoices, birth certificates, voter registration card, passports, all manner of testimonials to the truth of one's being who one claims to be.

Except that, voter registration card in hand, along with a utility bill and my passport didn't seem to suffice when we went out to vote yesterday. My passport was rejected: why? no address on it. I insisted it was a legitimate ID, and the person, at the fourth station in the rigmarole we went through, required more ID so my hospital card, having name and address on it, was proffered and accepted. In very fact, a long list of accepted ID was listed on the wall behind this personage, and it included passports.

Yes, fourth station. Enter the chamber and there is someone stationed to briefly peruse your ID and direct you to the first lineup. There, your ID, as I've described, is contested and finally accepted and you are directed to the second lineup. Where, eventually, someone asks to see your voter registration card, finds your name and address on a list, crosses it off, extracts a numeral, passes the numeral on to another person who on another list, writes your name, your address on it and asks you to sign it. From there you return to the original person who smiles, gives you a ballot and indicates she will be prepared to accept it when it has been filled out by you.

Thank you very much.