by Jeannette Berndsen
ON JUNE 14, I was sworn in as an American. Yeahhh….. finally.
It was a long, long road. We started the route a few years after 9/11, not the most auspicious time. Everything had just gotten much harder.
My oldest son had gotten a job offer in New York, he needed a work visa. We dealt with an immigration officer, a Dutchman who took care of this kind of thing, and everything worked out fine for our son. Wonderful, we had had a second home in Florida for years, and then he let us know that we could come as well, on a B2 visa. We built a studio to our house and I continued working there as an artist, which I had been in the Netherlands for years before that.
Over the next two decades, we flew to Holland each time we needed to renew that B2 visa and to prove that I still met all the conditions. That meant: back to the country of origin and to Amsterdam, waiting in a long line at the US Consulate to meet someone at the counter who didn’t really care for being there. He or she was clearly sitting there in a place they didn’t want to be. We got through all that, until we figured it was time for a green card.
My husband got his in no time, but unfortunately my fingerprints didn’t cooperate (they ever do, don’t ask me why). I asked for an iris scan instead, but no. After six months, we had to rush to Tampa, where I had to step into an office alone, without the husband, to answer the questions involved in those green card applications, under oath. I got my green card.
FAST FORWARD seven years in time, we now decided the day had come to apply for American citizenship, a right you acquire on the basis of the green card. In March of this year I got the corresponding interview, answering questions about American history and government system, and it was no problem. I received a letter and sure enough, on June 14 the day came: I was sworn in. I was in seventh heaven, after all these long years it was finally going to happen. A few good friends came along. In the evening we hosted a party where we welcomed 30 guests to our apartment with a buffet and a beautiful cake.
On the following morning, a Saturday, I received a message from the Emigration Service. I had to call first thing Monday morning because something was not right at all. Huh? How could that be? I had to bring my new certificate that said I am an American Citizen.
On Monday morning I was told to come back to the Emigration Building the next day immediately, there I would be told what was going on. I was met by an officer who took me into his office (again, husband was not allowed), he was very nice. He said that a mistake had been made on their end and that I should never have been sworn in by the judge, because again: my fingerprints were no good.
OK, I WAS asked another range of questions again by him under oath, which I answered truthfully, but in the meantime he kept the certificate. By now I also no longer had a green card, because that is taken away from you on the day you are sworn in as an American. When I asked if I was still an American now, he said yes. Once sworn in by a judge, that’s final.
Now I had no green card nor a certificate, what are you then, floating between two countries? The officer said I had to get a background check in West Palm Beach, and also one in Inverness where we used to live, because we didn’t reside in West Palm Beach long enough yet. I showed myself being understanding of their error and said I would cooperate fully.
Made a call to Inverness, yes, we had to come to the Sheriff’s office. We drove there for 4 hours in a bad storm. Standing there at the counter, we were told they don’t do it anymore in person. It had to be done online now. Really? Online, they could have told us that earlier. Storm on the way in, now we also had to drive 4 hours back. My husband was smart enough to ask for a letter so we had proof we had been there.
ONLINE, that was quickly arranged and we got the necessary paperwork via the Internet. Back to Immigration in Royal Palm. This time it was chaos there, one group was leaving and a new group was getting ready. We had to wait in a long, long line. I walked up twice saying that we had an appointment at 9 and this way we were getting much, much too late. Finally we got to some kind of reception desk with a nice person, who read what the appointment was for, and dropped what they were doing. We were taken inside, had to sit on chairs visible at the counter by someone who could help us further. This again took a long, long time. Finally we were called.
The man didn’t know anything and clearly was in no mood to deal with us. He was unfriendly, period. Okay, we were kind enough to bail them out, right? It was immigration’s fault, right? So I tried to explain it as best I could. The story is ridiculous to begin with of course and that didn’t help either. We had to sit back in our seats and I whispered to hubby, “I think we have to lawyer up.” My husband also thought this was going all wrong.
Eventually he came back and now we had to go to another officer’s counter. Fortunately, this gentleman was very friendly and asked me to come with him and, lo and behold, my husband was allowed to come with me. Stood once again in the hall where the new group gathered to be sworn in by the judge. He went to the lectern and retrieved the “correction form” folder. There was my proof of having become an American. Pfffff. I didn’t get it from him, he held it firmly. “I have to swear you in first…” Really? That already happened June 14, by the judge. Are you sure, the oath and all? Yes, all of it, including a party at home. And that’s when I finally got my very precious document back, for good.
Conclusion, I am an American (yeahhhh!!), but it didn’t come easy.
* Jeannette Berndsen is an artist in West Palm Beach, Florida. And since last month also an American citizen.
