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November 12, 1999/3 Kislev 5760, Vol. 52, No.11
Giving up driving warrants a ritual
RABBI BOB ALPER
Special to Jewish News
"That's it. No more driving for me. I've decided to quit."
It was my 80-year-old mother on the phone, announcing a decision she made following a couple of
close calls. I'm very proud of her, especially when I hear stories of the wrenching family turmoil that
sometimes accompanies diminished abilities among the elderly.
Mom has reached one of life's cross-roads, making a difficult choice wisely and with grace. She
ought to be recognized. And so, I imagined a life-cycle ceremony that would go something like this:
The setting: curbside.
Participants: Allyne Alper, a congregation of her family and friends, and an officiant, who could
be either a rabbi or, in the absence of a spiritual leader, an authorized representative of the
Department of Motor Vehicles, but must be a licensed driver regardless.
Allyne, as you face your white 1992 Buick Skylark with blue velvet interior and
only 19,541 original miles, I ask: Do you of your own free will and consent hereby surrender your
driver's license and promise to refrain from driving?
ALLYNE: I do.
CONGREGATION: (sighs of relief).
OFFICIANT: And do you, Allyne's family and friends, promise, to the best of your ability, to
transport Allyne to various destinations, in fair weather and in foul, in heat and in cold, in daylight or even at night?
CONGREGATION: We do, except for those of us who don't like to drive at night.
ALLYNE: Irma, you and Fred can take me to symphony. I already have a ride to mah-jongg, and
the bridge game is in the apartment next to mine. Debbie and David and the children said they'd bring me
to temple next Friday, and...
OFFICIANT: Excuse me. We need to continue. By the authority invested in me by the Department
of Motor Vehicles, and with the consent of these witnesses, I hereby pronounce you ";non-driver." We
shall now cut your license in two.
ALLYNE: Feh, it was a terrible photo anyway. I'd much rather use my passport.
OFFICIANT: Allyne, to confirm your new status and celebrate this sacred transition in your life, I
joyously invite you to assume your place of honor in the passenger seat.
At this point, windshield washer fluid is squirted festively into the air. In addition, persons of
Sephardic background may wish to stroke the car with a chamois cloth, as is their custom.
The horn is sounded.
Bob Alper, a rabbi and stand-up comic living in Vermont, will perform on Feb. 5 and 6 at the
Kerr Cultural Center in Scottsdale. Call 480-965-5377.
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