Yesterday Sr. Wantabee stood waited with others for her turn at the window to apply for a passport. Her adopted son age 15 was with her. Finally it was their turn.
She asked him if he had his state ID with him. “No, it’s home in the pocket of my other pair of pants.” What said she, how can you come to a government office without official identification? The lady behind the desk asked her for proof of adoption. A call was placed to the husband waiting at the bus stop for her daughter to arrive and then they would join Sr. Wantabee. Bring the adoption papers. Next question, what is the social security number? Another phone call to the husband to bring the social security numbers or call them to us. Had we brought passport photos or were we going to take them in the office? Step to the camera room. As Sr. Wantabee’s picture rolled from the camera, she could see that it would be obvious to all for the next ten years that the lady had not said, “one, two, three, smile,” and that Sr. Wantabee had been swimming that morning and her hair was flying all different directions.
She thought. Her son who had never been to a government office forgot his ID but he had no way of knowing. She, on the other hand, had gone for a passport many times and should of known. Who had the right to be peeved with whom?