One Woman’s Search
May 23, 2010
Ah so, time for update on continuing saga of One Woman’s Search as our heroine, that would be me, bravely tackles file cabinets and boxes that hold our rather eclectic collection of memorabilia. Some might say the contents are priceless while those not so inclined would be more likely to say unmentionable words as they throw up their hands in dismay and run shrieking away. Not that they wouldn’t be entirely justified, although I feel it is my duty to toss this thought out for consideration, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure as justification for our stash. To wit, I came across a file labeled ‘immediate action’ dated 1991 left over from the days when MGH was gainfully employed. Not to be outdone, for I too have a few things from bygone days that I have been unable to part with such as a white candle with a now quite smashed bow that was used in a ritual that could only occur at a university like BYU whose mission statement does not include finding the ‘one’ but might as well.
At the time I was going to school (1958-1962) I lived in Heritage Halls (Bowen which I chose because on the map it looked to be closest to campus) which consisted of 24 apartment style buildings for women with three bed rooms in each apt. This allowed six girls to live together in each apartment where we shared a common kitchen/living area. At that time we pooled our money and took turns cooking for each other which was a great learning experience in it’s own way. Not to long after I graduated this practiced was abandoned.
We were closely supervised with curfew at 10:00 pm on week nights when the front door was locked. If we needed to stay out later we had to ask our ‘dorm parents’ for permission. I know, I know, it sounds weird today but those who had problems with the rules soon transferred elsewhere for their schooling. At 10:30 pm. All who wanted to, and many did, gathered in the downstairs lobby area for family prayer. There was also the occasional passing of the candle to keep us up to date on who had just gotten engaged. The candle, which had the engagement ring attached to it, by means of a pretty bow was passed around the circle of girls until it reached its owner where it was claimed amidst hugs and cheers. This ritual was a sweet tradition IMO(In My Opinion) and a memory I have cherished through the years as witnessed by my reluctance to give up ‘my’ candle.
Please excuse the slight jog down memory lane which I just indulged in but if I hadn’t you wouldn’t have understood my reference to a candle I have held on to for 50 years. So now that that explanation is out of the way I will return to just why it was I was once more entering the ‘twilight zone’ of our past. Here, I feel I must insert the obligatory caution given by that paragon of virtue, Miss Grace Randell, who told her Home Economic students on more than one occasion that a good rule of thumb to use when deciding what or how long to keep an item was, “If you haven’t thought of or had a use for an item in a two years you can dispose of it”. Honesty requires that I add that MGH takes exception to this rule and has his own which is, “If you might ever need an item again, keep it”. This conflicting advice has been the cause of more than one heated discussion between us through the years, mainly, I must confess because I find it easier to ‘dispose’ than he does.
The unfortunate circumstance which necessitated my delving was made necessary by a desire on my part to renew my driver’s license as The Great State of Utah now demands to see proof of citizenship in the form of a genuine birth certificate as proof of citizenship. As MGH confidently assured me he had seen my BC just the other day in the one of the green file cabinets located in closet in his office I put off locating it until last week. Just as an aside, considering the flap in Arizona and the resultant uproar from those of a liberal persuasion one might think that there could be no more horrible request made than asking to see one’s identification which seems a little odd to me as I am asked all the time to show my driver’s license before a store will accept a credit card or cash a check or boarding a plane, or when stopped by the police. As a legal citizen this is okay but somehow becomes ‘that which must be done’ if one has entered the country illegally. Which is neither here nor there, I suppose, but it is a bit of a nuisance especially when one can’t lay one’s hands on one’s BC.
However, I do have a document which was issued when I was born by the state of Arizona called a Notification of Birth Registration which has the following statement printed on it. “PRESERVE THIS CERTIFICATE—IT IS VALUABLE” “This notification of birth registration will be valuable in proving the name, age, birthplace, and parentage of the child for school records, working rights, establishing identity, and other purposes.” Ha! What a joke. Unfortunately, this is not acceptable to the State of Utah which means I have to request a new birth certificate from the Arizona Office of Vital Statistics. This is a grim process as I was informed last time round in 1992, when I needed one for a passport, that my records were no longer in the active file because of my date of birth and that this would require a search to be made in the vaults. In my minds eye I could picture a lone figure equipped with a flashlight going up and down long rows of shelves stacked with dusty boxes hunting for the one that contains my record of birth. No wonder it takes longer—I wouldn’t want to go down there either.
I’ve also applied to the Social Security people for a new SS card which I also need to show. While I was at it I requested that my name be changed to Nellie Joanne instead of Joanne Nellie. Don’t even ask how that one happened because even if you ask I won’t tell.
The question of the day then, is this, will our heroine get what she needs in time? If not, what then? Will HGH emerge from retirement and act as her chauffeur as he did in Saudi Arabia? Stay tuned, this could get interesting. . . .