This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2014, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.
Noah North recently helped his mother make an appointment online to renew her Utah driver license.
They gathered all the evidence she would need to prove she was a U.S. citizen and a lawful resident of the Beehive State and that the octogenarian had not illegally infiltrated the "Land of the Free."
They went to her appointment with a printed copy of her renewal form and a fist full of I.D. cards: bank cards, utility bills, her birth and marriage certificates issued by the state of Utah (it was even a heterosexual marriage).
But there was a problem.
She was asked if she had any government-issued identification that showed her full birth name as it appeared on the application.
She presented all her bills and certificates, but none except her birth certificate included her full name.
She explained that she and her parents, in processing her various identification forms, never used her first name, just her middle and last names, even in school.
Oh, oh. Red flag. She's a spy. Or a terrorist.
She reminded the clerk that she had been granted many driver license renewals in Utah throughout the many years she had been an adult and had lived at the same Salt Lake City address for longer than the clerk had been alive — facts he could have easily verified on his computer.
The clerk checked with his supervisor, who seemed equally suspicious.
The supervisor then asked if she had a Medicare card, which she did and handed it over.
The supervisor accepted the Medicare card as evidence of the woman's existence.
Still, the clerk asked the woman to sign a written confirmation that, under the threat of law and despite having documentation to prove it, she was who she and her stack of documents said she was and had never, ever used her first name personally, professionally or legally.
She did not, however, have to give a blood oath.
State employees improvise in Provo: Employees at the Utah Department of Health's clinic in the state regional office building in Provo recently got a first-hand drill on how to deal with health-threatening unsanitary conditions.
Hundreds of state employees from a dozen departments in the building — including the clinic — suddenly found themselves without water or toilets after a main water line broke and flooded the basement.
It took most of the day to repair the line. Then it broke again.
The problem. The building's plumbing has not been upgraded from its original construction and still relies on plastic water lines that tend to break.
Employees complained that no water was available for much of the day, nor were there toilets available.
Marilee Richins, of the Department of Administrative Services which oversees the state's buildings, said employees were told they could go home on a voluntary basis. She said some departments brought water in for employees and there were restroom facilities available at the Utah County government building next door. Also, porta-potties were eventually brought in to the building.
The good news, she says, is that the State Building Board has made an upgrade at that building a top funding priority.