OLD HANDS

Today was Citizenship Process Step 2: Biometrics Day! 

Rick accompanied me to the Anthony J. Celebrezze Federal Building in downtown Cleveland, where our local USCIS office is housed. All in all, a fairly painless process. There was nobody else in line, so no waiting. The only hiccup: apparently my hands are getting old, and this makes fingerprinting a bit difficult.

The following is basically word-for-word the exchange between myself and the USCIS official who fingerprinted me (we're going to call her "Government Girlfriend" because I think she thought we were closer friends than we actually are, as you'll soon see...). In addition to Government Girlfriend and Me, a third character appears below: My Thought Bubble, i.e. the voice in my head that uttered all the things I wanted to say/shout/cry but couldn't.

Enjoy.

Government Girlfriend: [after first failed set of prints] Ooooookaaaaaayyy, this is going to be a little tricky. Your hands are really, really dry.

Me: Oh, I'm sorry... I do have some lotion in my purse if you think that'll help.

Government Girlfriend: Oh honey, you see those cracks in your fingertips? [points to the screen with my magnified fingerprint, with - indeed - many cracks interrupting the print swirls] A little bit of lotion now won't do a thing for that. Do you ever actually use lotion?

My Thought Bubble: WTF.

Me: Um. Yes. Couple of times a day.

Government Girlfriend: What kind?

My Thought Bubble: Will my choice of moisturizer impact my chances of being granted citizenship?

Me: Just a natural shea butter lotion.

Government Girlfriend: Well, honey, as we age, moisturizing becomes more important. You might want to think about using something 5 or 6 times a day. And maybe switch to something that works better.

My Thought Bubble: AS WE AGE?!?

Me: You're probably right, I should adjust my habits as I age.

Government Girlfriend: Oh honey, don't even get me started on the things we women have to go through as we get older what with having to go to a different doctor for every little thing and you find out you've got pieces parts you didn't even know you had or even had to think about and working here I have to get a mammogram every year like that's a fun thing to do and it's not like I even have that much to squish in there, you know what I mean?

My Thought Bubble: I NEED A POWER SANDER TO SCRAPE OFF THE PART OF MY BRAIN THAT WILL RETAIN AND REPLAY THE LAST TEN SECONDS FOREVER HOLY CRAP.

Me: Sure. It's not easy being a woman. So, are the prints working yet?

Government Girlfriend: Oh sure, honey, you're all set.

My Thought Bubble: GOOD BECAUSE YOU'RE NUTS AND NOW I HAVE TO SPEND THE DAY SCARRED BY OLD LADY TINY BOOB MAMMOGRAM MACHINE IMAGERY.

Me: Wonderful! Thank you!

And, scene.

To those who would like government officials to be more transparent, I say be careful what you wish for. 

Best part of the morning: Rick and I enjoyed a rare early lunch together -- stolen moments with my favorite fella are always a good antidote for awkward exchanges with strangers. And I don't think he minds my old hands. He still holds them anytime I want him to.

NEXT STEPS: I wait for notification for an appointment to have an interview and a civics exam. Government Girlfriend gave me a handy dandy study guide. Note: almost every answer to the civics questions can be found in a Schoolhouse Rock song. People my age should be able to skate through this test.

Official Study Guide

Also a study guide.

So now more waiting... but first, vacation to the mother country. Countdown to Canada: 9 days.

Blogging the Journey to Citizenship

As many of you know (and some may not know), I'm a Canadian citizen. I was born in Montreal, as were my brothers. When I was around 4 years old, my family moved to Crestwood, New York so my father could attend seminary. My parents' plan at the time was to eventually return to Canada once my father had been ordained a priest and could be assigned to a Canadian parish. Evidently, that plan was derailed by yours truly. The story goes: during the seminary years, we lived in a few different places, including a gorgeous old mansion in Bronxville that

"The Bronxville House"
(Apologies to my brother Pete for posting
a pic of him in a sailor suit. It's the only
Bronxville House photo I have...)

had been turned into student apartments, and a house that belonged to my aunt and uncle - empty for a time while they traveled. Around the time I finished first grade we moved to Wappingers Falls, NY as my father took the helm of St. Gregory the Theologian Church. My father's parents came to visit, and my grandmother noticed a small suitcase that I kept right next to my bed. She asked what was in it, and I said it contained all my "important treasures" - apparently, things I didn't want to leave behind when we inevitably had to pack up and move again. My grandmother told my father about my suitcase, scolded him for creating a life in which his daughter felt unsettled and had no sense of permanence or security, and said it was time for my parents to finally just stay put. I have no recollection of the suitcase, but I do like to pack things away in containers of all kinds, mostly because I lose things easily and putting things in boxes is a coping tool that helps me feel a sense of order and comfort. All personality quirks begin somewhere...

My grandmother was the kind of lady whose "suggestions" were not to be ignored, so Wappingers Falls, NY, USA became home, but we remained Canadian citizens throughout my childhood. It's possible my parents expected that someday they would take us all back to Canada and so they never went through the naturalization process, but "someday" remained "someday" and my brothers and I reached adulthood as Canadians living in America. In my adult life, there was always something else to do with the almost silly amount of money involved in applying for citizenship. During my college years, all available funds went to:

• music

  

  Our Wappingers Falls home at Christmastime.
  You can see my mama in the kitchen window, probably making coffee.
  It's going to be so strange when the folks retire
  and move out of this house...

• rock shows
• dunkin donuts coffee
• blimpie's subs
• movies
• pizza
• beer
• cheap red wine
• blank cassettes used to more economically acquire more music from my friends' music libraries
• dunkin donuts coffee
• dunkin donuts coffee

Then in post-college years:

• student loan repayment
• grad school
• more student loan repayment
• newborn baby gear
• a second car because, well, babies
• a mortgage.
• aaand... school tuition in the years before our move to Stepford the suburbs for a decent school district, home repairs, car repairs, orthodonture, student laptops, etc., etc., etc.

The point is, there was always something. 

And I always thought, as my parents did, "someday I'll do it, someday..."

BUT.

I hate not voting. I have made my voice heard in other ways, of course, including encouraging those folks who are unlikely to vote to get out and vote - hoping the absence of my vote is offset a little if I nudge others to exercise this most important of their rights. But these last few nail-biter elections have made me realize "someday" should be this day. "Someday" should have been yesterday. Also, there are the offspring... a parent should, whenever and wherever possible, teach by example. Eben is less than two years away from 18 and how cool would it be for us to cast our first presidential election vote together? So... the "travel/restaurant/anything unnecessary" budget takes another blow and I've applied for citizenship.

And, because I'm something of an obsessive worrier, I've decided to blog the experience in an effort to manage the stress of waiting (it can be a long wait). The Independence Day holiday week seemed like the appropriate time to start.

Step One: The Application

The citizenship application form is not difficult, but requires very careful reading of instructions as any undotted "i" and uncrossed "t" can result in denial of your application without refund of the enormous fee - so it would mean waiting until I've scraped together the fee again to start over. The only annoying bit on the form was having to list all my travel outside US borders since becoming a permanent resident. Every trip to Canada in the summers and in between summers since age 8. I'm old, kids, I can't remember where I went last Tuesday, never mind exact road trip dates for the past gazillion years. That part of the application took over a month to complete as I combed through old calendars and tried to remember dates of important events that would have impacted regular summer trips or added a trip in between (weddings, funerals, etc.). This part of the project has me thinking about ways to improve memory skills. Any ideas? Wait, what was the question?

So the application was done and mailed. I have to admit, I had butterflies in my stomach at the post office. Silly, I know... my life is not going to change other an having something else to do in November every few years (and sometimes in between) but still... I'm stupidly nervous/excited about taking this step.

I received notification that the application was entered into the USCIS system, and I'm waiting for step two: biometrics. In a couple of weeks I'll visit my local USCIS office to be fingerprinted and photographed. Then more waiting for step three: an interview/exam appointment. 

Ugh, the waiting. Send Valium.

In the meantime, Happy Support Your Local Fireworks Distributor Week!