By Cathy Jameson

It didn’t matter that we’d made an appointment.  The DMV was running behind.  35 minutes behind.  I’d specifically booked an appointment mid-week because I didn’t know if Ronan would tolerate the noise, the busy-ness, or the potentially long time we’d be there.  Booking that appointment would assure me that we’d be in and out faster than usual. 

Or so I thought. 

We only had one quick transaction to take care of that afternoon.  Once we stepped foot into the building, I knew there would be nothing quick about our visit.  People everyone.  Kids everywhere.  Noise everywhere.  I’d never seen this DMV as busy and chaotic as it was.  One never knows how long state government appointments run, but past history told me we’d be there for some time. 

I wasn’t wrong.  

Ronan took all of it in stride.  His little brother, who now towers over him by almost a foot, joined us.  I thanked the Lord that he was there and that Ronan had been there before with me and his siblings several times over the years.  When the kids were old enough to get their licenses, when we had to renew registration or get new plates for new vehicles, Ronan’s weathered the mind-numbing bland state-run office more times than he probably wanted to.  When I could get someone to stay home with him, I’d still want to go to the DMV and be done  there as soon as possible. 

Time seems to stand still in places like this.  

This time, though, the appointment was for Ronan, so he had to go.  I’d put off getting a photo identification card for Ronan for a long time, but several places we go require a photo ID.  His passport works great and is still valid.  I just don’t want to risk losing it when we go out.  One of our providers recommended we get a state ID, which made sense.  One thing on the form didn’t make sense and that was opting Ronan into the Selective Service.

I couldn’t opt him out. 

I’d read that other parents have dealt with this and that it’s stirred up several emotions.  Sadness is the biggest emotion that overcomes them as they ponder the ‘what ifs’.  Their child, like mine, cannot serve in the military.  

What if my son wasn’t disabled…could he have served?  

Fit for duty?  There’s no way. 

I’ve already had to fight for him throughout his entire childhood, and now I have to put my dukes it all over again.

Some of us are tired of the fight and are concentrating on quality of life for our adult sons.  I know the lady at the DMV didn’t want to hear Ronan’s story, but as Ronan’s mom, it’s my responsibility to continue to tell it so that I can continue to help and protect him.

“Ma’am, I can’t check any of the 3 boxes in this section,” I started.  “We haven’t already registered him, he’s not a non-immigrant alien who’s not required to register, and I don’t want to authorize the DMV to forward any of this information to anyone else.  If you had a 4^th box, one that said ‘unable to serve’, that’s the box I’d check.  What do you suggest I do?”  I asked.  I knew she wouldn’t have a clue.

She was brand new and the sign at her station indicated she was still in training. 

After waiting 35 minutes for our scheduled appointment, we were randomly assigned to the one rep who had never done a state ID for an adult male with severe developmental delays.  Despite that, I smiled through the entire transaction, because I have been that new person who’s learning as she’s going. 

It’s a tough place to be when you haven’t gotten all the information yet.

I would never do anything that would jeopardize my son or our family, but I felt blindsided and frustrated that the general form made no concessions for people like my son.  Even so, I was as honest and forthcoming as possible.  It went up me sideways, but I believe that honesty is the best policy. 

So I left a note on the application instead. 

I starred the section, left some information that I thought was helpful and hoped that whichever admin would read it next would takes a few minutes to thoroughly go through the attached Guardianship letter that I had to include with the ID application.   That document tells some of Ronan’s story and lays out reasons why he cannot drive, vote or serve. 

Thankfully that document doesn’t tell the whole story because we know that Ronan can do some things…

He got through the appointment at the very loud and chaotic DMV for that photo ID he sometimes needs.  He stood still for his picture.  And he signed ‘thank you’ as we left the counter.  To get through that agonizingly long afternoon appointment was a feat!  I opted not to take him back to the DMV at the end of the week when his little sister was scheduled to take her driver’s permit test.  He’d done his time already and didn’t need to sit through any more madness again.  I’m sure we’ll be dealing with a different kind of madness when someone from the Selective Service office gets wind of my message. 

All males under the age 26 are required…

Like that new rep who hadn’t hasn’t experienced everything about her new job yet, I, too, haven’t experienced everything either.  So, it’s off to read and research, and to pray, that we’ll have exactly the right information and exactly when we need it.

Cathy Jameson is a Contributing Editor for Age of Autism.

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