Personal blog of christian
writer & fallible mom
Katy McKenna Raymond
in Kansas City, Missouri
Katy is represented by
Greg Johnson at
WordServe Literary
Read more Katy at
LateBoomer.net
Recent Posts
- Try
- Becoming Brenda Starr
- Off Beat
- Scattered
- That’s It
- So I’ve Finally Signed With An Agent. Now What?
- The Spoon
- Sciatica
- Sweetheart
- A Woman’s Train of Thought Has No Caboose
- However much we own, we are all still living on borrowed time
- After all, when restaurants shrink portions, they don’t shrink prices.
- As with everything in life, balance is key.
- Slow down, you move too fast…
- Yeah, I know. I have issues.
Syndicate
E me at katy @ ngenius.com
Citizen Kate
Some of you will remember that one of my goals is to (please dear God, let it be before I DIE!) acquire my British and Irish citizenships.
I started this crazy process five years ago. FIVE YEARS. Maybe it’s the Daughters-of-the-American-Revolution rebellious side of me, I don’t know. But, folks, bureaucracy and I, we just don’t get along.
A year ago, leading up to the fabulous trip Doug and I took to Ireland and Scotland, I submitted what I thought was every piece of paper God ever made, all notarized, to the British Embassy. I hoped, hoped, hoped to receive back in the post—before we left for the Old Country in April—my coveted British passport.
I am, you see, entitled. My father was born in Scotland, which makes me a Scottish citizen by descent. I’m also entitled to my Irish passport and citizenship, because my grandfather was born in Ireland. However, as with so many things in this world, the burden of proof rests with, you guessed it…me.
Me and a whole bunch of bureaus, that is.
When you try to establish your lineage, you’re forever writing agencies requesting “long forms.” Long-form birth certificates, death certificates, marriage certificates, and on and on. Long-form certs must contain more pertinent information than short-forms, but I wouldn’t know. I doubt that I’ve ever seen a long-form up close and personal, no matter how many times I’ve requested—and paid—for them.
So, last year, on the day before we left for Ireland, my passport request was denied. Several items were missing, apparently, including my own “long form” birth certificate.
“The certificate you enclosed was issued in 2002,” the British Embassy bureaucrat informed me, “which is more than three months after your date of birth.”
Ya think????
I called the State of Missouri’s Department of Vital Records today. It took nearly a full year after that glaring rejection for me to work up the vitality to try again. I told the very helpful agent that I must have received the incorrect certificates back in 2002, when I requested the long-forms in a letter.
“Did you use a yellow highlighter to mark the words ‘long form’ in your original request?” she asked.
“Umm…no,” I said.
“Did you mark the words ‘long form’ with stars on both sides?”
“You’re kidding, right? That would also be ‘no.’”
“Underline them or bold type them?”
“Didn’t happen. I’m sorry. I learned to write a business letter in approximately 1964. I typed a simple, straightforward letter including the magic words ‘long-form’, and accompanied it with a big fat check. When did that stop being enough?”
“Circle them, point arrows at them, type them in caps, or stick a post-it note on them?”
“NOOOooooo!!!!!”
“It’s been more than a year since you received your short-form birth certificates. We cannot exchange them for long-forms now. Nor can we refund the substantial chunk of change you handed over with that perfect specimen of a letter you wrote…”
“How exactly do you expect me to handle this? I need those long forms to get my British passport!”
“You’ll have to request them in writing, and enclose $15 for each certified copy of the long-form that you require.”
“But how shall I word my request? I’m afraid I’ve become quite useless in the way I communicate…”
“Don’t worry, ma’am. The words themselves aren’t important. Just make sure you use a yellow highlighter to draw attention to them.”
“And—”
“And stars, bold, caps, underlining, and arrows.”
I couldn’t help myself. “What about italics?”
“Now, ma’am. No need to get testy.”
If only I could give up bureaucracies for Lent.
- Good thing God doesn't need a passport! That is insane.
Posted by Macromoments on 03/06/07 at 11:07 PM
- Keep trying. I looked into it, but I'm not closely enough related to the shores of Ireland - my greatgrandfather was conceived in Ireland but born in the US. So I am a generation too far removed. But keep at it. I encourage everyone I know who is eligible to go for dual citizenship.
Posted by alison on 03/09/07 at 06:38 PM
- MacroBonnie--God is lucky that way!! :) Us, too, though. He can come to us without a passport, and we to Him. Ah, bliss.
alison--Yeah, it has to be a grandparent born in Ireland to get Irish. For Britain, it has to be a parent. My kids aren't thrilled that they don't qualify. Doug, however, can be grafted in by virtue of my citizenships once I acquire them. The rules change rather frequently, though, so someday that conception may come in handy!! :)Posted by Katy on 03/14/07 at 08:23 PM - dnieivoi fuflekfw http://vtaukqfm.com uqbeyguo zhbjempx <a href="http://cteexmqx.com">syvcbgpd</a>
Posted by vuxqmued on 05/22/07 at 08:15 PM
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