I
sometimes have to show my driver’s license to prove my identity, and each time,
I smile to myself at the ridiculous idea that a laminated card can actually say
who I am. Does the card say that the oxygen and hydrogen atoms in my body
(which make up most of it) were born with the stars billions of years ago,
making me a billion-year-old guy? Does the card say that about 50 million of
the cells in my body will be brand new in the next few seconds, turning me into
sort of a brand new person? Does the card say that fresh, pristine thoughts
somehow spring up inside me by the thousands each day, all of them adding, in
mysterious ways, to who I am? The
card shows my name and a photo, but does it show any of the multitudinous
feelings that have bubbled up inside me over the years, feelings that would disclose
my identity far better than a small plastic card?
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