So, in my last post, I casually mentioned that I am a naturalized citizen. It was a fact that I thought I had shared before on my blog; however, Rebecca, who was the very first person to comment on my blog, and who has been a faithful reader ever since, pointed out that she did not know this about me.
Pray tell, folks…how on earth could I have failed to mention this?
That’s not to say that you could not have figured it out if you have memorized the 100 Facts About AuburnChick, but I’ll cut you some slack. If you’re like me, you’ve got too many other random things to remember, like your children’s birthdays and such.
Ok, so here’s a brief recap of my early life.
Once upon a time, there was a girl. She was born in Quebec, Canada, to parents who also chose to birth 18 other children. Her parents were Catholic and owned a farm. They needed cheap labor. This was the time before child labor laws existed.
The woman grew up and fell in love with a dashing French man from…where else…France.
They were both in the hotel management business, and they traveled around Canada, in search of steady employment. They even visited the United States.
However, upon discovering that the woman was pregnant, they went back home to Canada so their child would be born in their home country.
They somehow wound up in Goose Bay, Newfoundland, where they had me…the illustrious author of this blog.
Hence, I was automatically a citizen of Canada.
By the way, did you that the Yarn Harlot’s husband hails from Newfoundland? This is another reason why our youngest children are destined to marry and in doing so will permanently afix me to that wonderful knitting family tree of hers.
It’s all about the end result people.
Getting back to my story…
My parents traveled some more, lived here or there, and went back to Canada to have their second child, who is known to you only as Super Sis. She was born in Ontario. Hence, she too was a Canadian citizen.
We traveled to places unknown before finally settling in Colorado.
My parents divorced when I was young, and my mom married…a few times…I lost count…and we moved quite a few times as a result of said unions/breakups. Finally, though, I landed in Alabama, where I spent most of my adolescent years.
Fast forward through those years to 1995, when the Mr. and I moved to Miami. His job had transferred him there.
Well, you know that Miami is one of the largest melting pots in the United States, and I had always wanted to become a U.S. citizen, so I filed my paperwork and waited. There was a local immigration office right down the road, so it was very convenient.
The entire process took nearly a year. Finally, I had my “interview.” I had to put on a brave exterior and drive through downtown Miami to find the right government office.
This was a miserable experience. Chicky and Rooster were wee things, and I had no idea where in the world I was going. For a small-town girl, it was s-c-a-r-y.
Plus, it was the middle of the summer, so it was hot, hot, hot.
The first thing the officials checked were the pictures I had submitted – required part of filing for citizenship. My photos were the wrong size. I had to leave to find a place that would take “passport size” photos.
Oh my word.
I dared not move my car in fear that I would get lost in the maze of one-way streets. I don’t remember having the stroller either. So, I had to tote both children up and down the hot concrete in search of a place that would accept credit cards, which was all that I had.
The kids quickly grew tired. It was, in fact, past naptime. Their little faces were red and sweaty from the heat. I’m sure I smelled to high heaven from the exertion.
I finally found a business, had my picture taken, and went back to the immigration office. Mercifully, it was finally my turn, and I answered the various “test” questions that every 11th grade civics student should learn. How many senators are in Congress (100 – two from each state), blah, blah, blah.
I don’t remember what happened after that except that they told me that I would receive something in the mail.
After some amount of time, the length of which has faded from my brain, I received a letter in the mail, informing me that I would be sworn in on April 29th. It was a few months away, so I had plenty of time to grow even more excited.
We took the kids with us that day. They had to wait with the Mr. in the back of the auditorium while those being sworn in sat in designated chairs up front.
The entire ceremony was very organized. When I sat down, I found a package under my chair. It contained a special message from Bill Clinton, who was the President at the time…
I saw another piece of paper under the President’s letter…
It was such a neat experience. I remember the speaker calling out the names of the nationalities being represented. We stood when we heard the name of our birth country. There must have been over 30 different countries called out that day. It was astounding! I felt so proud when I stood.
And then the all-important moment…that of raising my hand and speaking the following words:
I hereby declare, on oath,
- that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereignty of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen;
- that I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic;
- that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same;
- that I will bear arms on behalf of the United States when required by law;
- that I will perform noncombatant service in the Armed Forces of the United States when required by the law;
- that I will perform work of national importance under civilian direction when required by the law;
- and that I take this obligation freely without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; so help me God.
In acknowledgement whereof I have hereunto affixed my signature.
Oh, how I wish I had a picture from that day. We owned a camera, but it wasn’t digital; however, I doubt that the Mr. would have been able to take a picture because 1) he doesn’t know how to use technology well and 2) he was looking after two active toddlers.
It doesn’t matter. The day will be forever engrained on my mind and heart.
After the ceremony, we went to The Clevelander, which is a famous hotel/cafe on South Beach.
We sat outside and enjoyed dinner. I’m pretty sure I treated myself to a Pina Colada. How could I not, sitting in that gorgeous setting?!
We people-watched and simply enjoyed the moment.
Then, we went home.
After living in this country for most of my life and finally being named an “official” member of the “family,” I truly mean it when I say that I am proud to be an American.
Filed under: This-n-That | Tagged: citizenship, naturalization | 4 Comments »
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