In the never-ending battle between good (that would be me) and evil, I embarked on another series of conflicts with City Hall today. Unless we hire a professional permit dealer to complete THIS battle, I am sure to lose it. This morning, as I was being shifted to one office to another, I stood in line for 40 minutes paying a bill from a previous owner for $2.80 trying to explain that I wanted to pay and wanted them to erase it from their records.

This afternoon I found myself at the same counter trying to pay the same people $2,800 for a current bill; it looked as if I might have to wait 40,000 minutes to pay that, but something quite unusual and something I just eat up happened.

Next to me was an elderly lady, exquisitly dress in cream linen slacks and a fire-engine red blazer with a near, white bob going on about how confusing all these city and county bills had become, how she couldn't understand why they were billing for property she no longer owed, how her only daughter had died and left her alone to deal with these things, and why weren't there people to help her. She was nearly crying when she said she had trouble going to the drugstore, let alone wandering around City Hall. I was feeling very sad, but the clerk was being extremely understanding and helpful (something I had never seen before there), and every now and then we shot a glance to each other as if to say, "We wish we could help. Getting old and being alone is A Bitch". I listened, too, as I had about another 39,950 minutes to wait.

It was obvious from her dress and carriage that she was not poor and she had what turned out to be a Swedish accent. She brought out many ID's and said, "Look; I've always kept all my paperwork. Here's my original driver's license when I first arrive in 1961." (It was of a young, blonde woman, my eyes were all over her now.) "I still have everything; even my first Social Security Card." The clerk, a patient black woman of about 50 exclaimed, "I've never seen that before on a card", and I bent over to look closer, too. It read "Countess so-and-so de Lewenhaupt" (no more full names until Google melts down)

The old lady said, "We were Swedish nobility when we arrived. We never started any wars. We did everything the right way. Wen I came here they asked by name and that's how I gave it." Fabulous! We all could have "Countess" on our cards if only our parents had been bright enough. She lightened up, the clerk and I were just gleeful and the lady asked the clerk to lunch. I left them still arguing about lunch (that elegant, lonely lady wanted someone to talk with so badly) and--of course--Googled the De Lewenhaupt name.

This is the Star of 1780 from Areen and Lewenhaupt. and that family does have quite a history it appears. Oh, that City Hall.