A few days ago I posted this diary describing my changes in immigration status from the time I first entered the US as an international student until the evening before the day I took the oath and became a US citizen.
This diary describes the ceremony itself as well as a few musing on the concept of citizenship itself in this modern world (hmm - where I have heard that phrase before?).
A few minutes before 9 AM on Thursday morning I was walking north along Adams St. just to the south of downtown Tallahassee. It was a very pleasant morning with a temperature in the low 60s, sunshine and a light breeze. Traffic was light as rush hour had passed and I was a block west of the main thoroughfare. A large flock of robins flew off as I approached, at least 50 birds.
I was heading for the federal courthouse. When I got there, a few people were standing at the top of the stairs, outside of the main entrance, some taking pictures of one another. Like me they were dressed in 'good' clothes that they didn't wear very often as they were also going to take part in the ceremony.
The notice from CIS had simply said to show up at 9. Further instructions awaited inside. We checked in at one table, manned by a CIS officer. Another person from CIS (his wife as it turned out) was handing out an information sheet. We turned in our announcement. On the back we had to check yes or no to a series of questions asking if anything had changed since our interviews. I had left the country so I had to check one box. They took down the additional information and then we went to a second table to sign our citizenship certificates and turn in our green cards. For most people in line each of these things took no more than a minute but there were a couple of problems that held up the line.
Once all that was done we had to wait until 1030 to go into the courtroom. We could hand out outside the courthouse or leave and come back. The one complication was that cell phones (and laptops, iPads, etc) were absolutely prohibited from being taken inside. The info sheet we were given as we walked in said to leave cell phones in our vehicles. I had been dropped off and didn't have a vehicle (and had never been to a federal courthouse before). I talked to a friendly security guy and he said we could leave phones with them at the checkpoint if there was no other option.
Among the other proto-citizens that day was one of the housekeeping staff from the building in which I work. I had discovered that we were both going up for citizenship one day when she asked my wife and I while eating lunch about some of the questions on the citizenship exam. I'll call her Mabel. Mabel is a native of Jamaica. For naturalization ceremonies we were asked to where appropriate attire. For most of us that meant something business-like. Mabel was resplendent in a full length dress and brightly colored silk scarf - looking like she was off to a fancy party. I met her two sons as well, college-age young men, who were in fact, students at the local community college.
Everyone wandered off for a while. I read a paper for the discussion I was leading that afternoon and walked to the public library to use the restroom. Eventually it was 1030 and time to go in. Once we got to the courtroom the feeling was very much like a graduation. We each had a designated seat with a packet of materials and our citizenship certificate waiting for us. The jury boxes on both sides of the courtroom were used, as were a row of seats in front of each box and a few more seats up at the front. I got a jury box seat, which had a nice comfy swivel chair. Mabel was up at the front.
The packet contained letters welcoming me from both Florida senators, our Representative (tea-partier Steve Southerland) and Barack Obama. The letters from Steve Southerland and Bill Nelson were addressed to me by name (although obviously form letters) while Marco Rubio and Presidents were completely generic. Also in the packet were a program of the ceremony, a form to apply for a passport, a copy of the constitution and the declaration of independence, and at least one other thing I don't remember right now.
It took a while for everyone to find their seats. The program listed the petitioners by name and gave our countries of origin. I was struck by the diversity represented (34 countries countries according to our first speaker). And very few people who looked like me (e.g. middle-aged, big-headed anglo-Canadians in need of a hair cut and a diet).
The petitioners were from every continent save Antarctica and represented 34 countries (an average of almost exactly two petitioners per country). Latin America and the Caribbean were particularly well represented, not surprisingly, with Jamaica, Haiti, Cuba, Colombia, and Mexico predominant. Egypt was also highly represented which seemed, to use an expression common among my students, somewhat 'random'. There were only a handful of western Europeans. The only other Canadians were an older couple who were of non-European ancestry, probably middle-eastern or south Asian. They were across the room from me. The only Australian had a hispanic name and I don't think I got a good look at him.
I was seated at the end of a row. A gentleman with a bushy mustache and a soft southern accent (i.e. Assistant US Attorney Michael Simpson) approached the woman seated behind me. He told her he was going to putting forth the motion to make us all citizens and would be asking all to state our names and that he would ask her to start. After giving her the instructions he moved on to me as the person at the end of my row and gave me similar instruction before moving around the room. The woman behind me, from Mexico, was a bit worried about this responsibility thrust upon her. I assured her it would be fine. The woman seated next me was from Niger. Meeting someone from Niger was an added bonus to the day although we didn't have chance to talk much.
Before the ceremony proper began, the officer from CIS spoke to us briefly. He told us about the material in our packets, warned us against leaving the US without a passport, and urged us to 'register to vote, do our homework, and VOTE!'
Then we were called to stand as the judge entered the courtroom. Our judge was the Hon. William C. Sherrill Jr. He was friendly and informal with (again) a soft southern accent and genteel manner. In fact he reminded me very much of a character (a judge) in one of my favorite films, 'You Can't Take It With You', a marvelous populist work by Frank Capra from 1938. The judge in this film is a warm, modest, humane man, although not a southerner. I immediately had a positive opinion of Judge Sherrill. You can see the fictional judge in the clip below although you will have to wait a bit to get to the courtroom scene.
He welcomed us, introduced the other officials in court, including representatives from the offices of both senators and our representative. At the back of the room was the deputy clerk who would lead us in our oath, as well as staff from the Leon County Elections Board who would be available to register us to vote immediately after the ceremony, if we so desired. Among them was local celebrity Ion Sancho the Leon County Supervisor of Elections, famous for being selected to head up the aborted statewide recount in 2000 and for subsequent conflicts with Diebold. The judge was the second person to urge us to register and to vote, indicating that this was particularly important in Florida.
After a few more ceremonial procedures, Assistant Attorney Simpson had us all introduce ourselves, and then made the motion to make us citizens which the judge granted without incident. The deputy clerk then led us in the oath of allegiance and the actual official part making us citizens was done.
Judge Sherrill then talked to us about the murals on the ground floor depicting the signing of the Magna Carta, the Constitutional Convention, the Civil Rights Struggle, and a trial, followed by an acquittal and the formerly accused speaking to a newspaper. He had a wonderful, low key, manner of talking that seemed of another time.
Then a second speaker was introduced by a member of the Tallahassee Bar Association who became the third person to urge us to register to vote.
The speaker was another judge, a woman who had been born in Cuba and immigrated to the US with her family as a young child. She told us her story, a bit about leaving Cuba, about what her parents did after they arrived in the US and about becoming a judge.
After that there were closing ceremonies and we were done. As we exited the jury box, the woman from Niger made a comment about there being 'a lot of drama'.
There was a reception and voter registration a couple of floors down. As we got off the elevator Mr Sancho was there congratulating us and urging us (for the 4th time) to register to vote.
Which I did as soon as I got inside the reception area. The process was very simple compared to the immigration forms I've experienced over the years. As I was finishing Mr. Simpson, the assistant US attorney approached me. He commented on my having a bit of trouble saying my name. I have a speech impediment which is mostly pretty minor but most commonly manifests itself when saying people's names (including my own) during introductions (of myself or of someone else). When I told him that he apologized and asked me where i was from and we chatted for a minute. Then I had a brownie and a glass of punch, congratulated Mabel, told her sons I was glad to have met them and headed to campus.
Now a few thoughts.
The ceremony had a very positive feel and didn't seem overly solemn. All the officials involved seem to genuinely enjoy the process (the representatives from the politicians' offices excepted - they didn't have to do anything and just sat there). There was recognition that our pasts were important, that we weren't wiping the slate clean, but bringing important experiences and ideas from our home countries. And there was surprisingly little of the American exceptionalism to which, as a Canadian, I have been programed to be ultra-senstive. In all it was a positive experience.
There were a few aspects of the ceremony that I wasn't so keen on. First and foremost there was a religious invocation at the beginning and the end. This seems inappropriate for a purely civic function and especially one that is specifically for a very diverse group of people. On the other hand, the Reverend who was officiating had the delightful name of Darwin Box which I found quite amusing. He was another pleasant, elderly southern gentleman with a low key style. His speeches were as generic as they could possibly be while still being recognizable as Christian. Still, being asked to pray, at a ceremony at which I was required to attend by the government is annoying.
On a more minor note, I found the carrying of the flag in and out of the courtroom by a member of the military in full dress uniform to be even more unexpected. Which brings me back to the comment from the woman from Niger. One thing that the ceremony brought home to me was, as I became an American, how much I am still a Canadian. And one big difference (if I can insert a gross generalization here) between Canadians and Americans is drama, especially drama in ceremonies. I read once that when Walmart moved into Canada they attempted to adapt a policy of singing the national anthem at the start of the work day to Canada (i.e. just changing anthems) but had to give it up pretty quickly because Canadians found the whole thing embarrassing. So a few aspects of the ceremony seemed a bit too dramatic for my taste.
But now I feel like I belong here more completely than I did before. On Monday I'm getting a haircut so I can submit my passport application and not have a more unflattering than necessary picture to show to the world for the next decade.