Passport to Happiness

A cliche, but I want to talk about getting my passport and how daily use of the AA program is essential to my well-being.

This story involves TWO birth certificates, the one published on my birth day, inhospital, and the one I just bought from the state of Minnesota health department.

The original certificate is in mint condition; I confidently took it with my pix and application and $ to my appointed meeting at the post office two weeks ago; I was totally prepared. The pleasant postal worker opened my folder, took a glance at the birth certificate and kind of moaned, "Oh, I should have warned you, hospital birth certificates can't be used to get passports; you need a certified certificate from the state of your birth." My response could never be described as a mere moan. I was way beyond surprised; I went immediately into incensed and, with pulse rising, responded, "If this one isn't any good, why have I been taking such care of it all these years?" Employee said, "You sure have taken good care of it, and those little footprints are still perfect." I was in no mood for his gentle kindness, and barely got out of his office without having to do a tenth step on the spot.

On the way home, I steamed for a mile or so, declaring I just wouldn't get a passport. I don't have anywhere to go that requires one now, anyway. And...then...fairly shortly...I began returning to sanity (the steps have helped me learn to do this). I called the Minnesota office, was forthright and pleasant, was told it would take 4-6 weeks to process my request, and readily paid $45 extra to get the paperwork expedited, not caring that I have no travel plans, but wanting to get this over with. Then, I fairly calmly went on with my life.

Only four days later, a fellow worker brought me a packet from Fed Ex, saying I was probably going to get upset when I saw it. It was an overnite express delivery from Minn; it was soggy wet and crinkled. I pulled out the "official" birth certificate, breathed deeply, sighed, ironed it and took it to the post office, where it was welcomed with open arms. It didn't look nearly as nice as my pristine hospital one with blue ink foot prints, but it was what the authorities wanted.

Even if I never get to travel where my passport is required, I have already used it to move from an exhausting paddling upstream trip to a serene cruise with the current. Owlclover like this pictured doesn't require a passport to see if one is a US citizen. It grows in the ditches on the highway to Kitt Peak in "good wildflower springs."