Wednesday, June 14, 2017 The Nugget Newspaper, Sisters, Oregon
21
Commentary...
Becoming a U.S. citizen
zy Liam Hughed
Guest Columnist
Wednesday, June 7, 2017
was a milestone day in my
life.
It was the day I offi-
cially became a U.S. citi-
zen. Unofficially, I became a
U.S. citizen at heart about 10
years ago when I decided that
America was where my heart
was, and where I wanted to
spend the rest of my days. On
that day 10 years ago I made
a conscious effort to cast off
many of my attachments to
my homeland and embrace
the culture of my new home.
However, on this past
Wednesday, America offi-
cially made me one of its own.
Now, this day was not
all smooth sailing. I was
informed by mail that I needed
to be in Portland at 8:30 a.m.
to take the citizenship tests —
including reading and writing
English, and a civics test. So
I got up at a time of day that I
am not sure is best described
as morning or night, and was
on the road by 4:45 a.m.
I got to the office about
30 minutes early for my
interview, still in my walking
boot from a recent basketball
injury. The office facility had
a TSA-style security check-
point with X-Ray machine
and all. So after about five
minutes of them scanning
my walking boot for bombs
and patting me down, I was
allowed through. I figured I
had time to head to the bath-
room before heading up the
stairs for my interview. Once
in the bathroom I had a horri-
ble sinking feeling as I felt the
fly on my pants completely
break. After five minutes
of trying to get it to go back
together it became immedi-
ately apparent that the damage
was irreparable. What’s worse
is this particular pair of dress
pants were not the kind where
the fly stays nicely together
when not zipped. No, it was
one of those that when not
zipped forms a gaping hole
of fabric and puts your under-
garments on display for the
whole room.
So I gingerly made my
way out to the security check-
point using my file of immi-
gration paperwork to cover
myself. I proceeded to explain
to the security guards my
predicament, and asked if
they have any safety pins. Of
course, they did not, and after
a couple of minutes of delib-
eration the best option we
could come up with was a sta-
pler. So I took the stapler back
into the rest room and pro-
ceeded to staple my fly shut.
Unfortunately it was not pos-
sible to staple it on the inside
where it was invisible. No...
the only way it would work
was to staple straight through
from front to back.
I must have looked like
quite the madman, fever-
ishly pounding staples into
my crotch in the men’s rest-
room. Thankfully though,
this worked, but now I had a
crotch full of staples.
Having an interview of this
magnitude is pretty stressful at
the best of times, but try doing
it when you are the slightly
insane-looking guy with their
fly stapled together.
Those of you that know
me, understand that I am very
rarely serious, and I would
rather talk about humorous
topics that ones of a deep
emotional nature, but for a
moment I feel I need to step
into that realm. I was actu-
ally very disappointed with
the rest of the process. I had
to pass an English reading
test, which consisted of read-
ing one single question: “Who
can vote?” and the English
writing test was simply me
penning the answer to the
question that the interviewer
provided me. Which was “A
citizen.” (Thankfully I didn’t
study for that particular part
of the test.)
Then came the civics test,
which I thought was appropri-
ate, followed by the “inter-
view” which consisted of the
interviewer asking me about
20 questions that I had already
answered on my applica-
tion, mostly centered around
if I was a member of the
Communist or Nazi parties, or
if I had committed any crimes
in the U.S.A. At that point, I
DON’T
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OUT
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was told I would be sworn-in
as a U.S. citizen.
The swearing-in ceremony
was where I was truly disap-
pointed though. A few weeks
earlier I was at the rodeo
in Spray on Memorial Day
weekend. The announcer
started the rodeo by giving
a reminder of the sacrifices
made so that we can live
in a free country. He gave
such a touching account of
what America stood for, that
it moved half the crowd to
tears as the rodeo queen rode
around with Old Glory waiv-
ing in the summer wind. Now,
I am not known for being a
person of great emotion, but
even I was moved almost
to tears, deep in my own
thoughts about this country
that I love.
Afterwards I wondered
how much stronger my emo-
tional reaction would be on the
day I could finally call myself
an American. However, the
swearing in ceremony at the
immigration office in Portland
was more like something out
of a preschool classroom. It
focused heavily on the indi-
viduals who were immigrat-
ing and where they came
from. I think I upset one fel-
low immigrant after the cer-
emony when he asked what
country I was from and I gave
him the response “It really
doesn’t matter anymore, does
it?”
The ceremony finished
with a very underwhelm-
ing recital of the Pledge of
Allegiance, and a room full
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Liam Hughed getd into the dpirit at the Rodeo Parade.
of people doing a halfhearted
rendition of the national
anthem. (I am sure half of
them did not even know the
words.)
Having no family here, I
left the ceremony that should
have been one of the most sig-
nificant in my life, alone and
totally unmoved. It left me
thinking, are we really doing
this the right way? On my
drive home I thought more
about how little the ceremony
talked about what it meant to
be an American, and how no
guidance or expectations were
laid before us as immigrants.
The happy ending to this
story is that I did finally find
my moment of emotional
reflection at becoming a citi-
zen of the greatest nation in
the world.
Having started my day
at 4:45 a.m., I contemplated
just relaxing and not attend-
ing the rodeo that night as I
had planned. But thankfully I
did go, and as I watched the
whole crowd of thousands
stand and remove their hats
I felt a stir of emotion deep
inside that I should have felt
earlier that day. The American
pride in the faces of thousands
was so genuine, not lacklus-
ter like it was in the faces of
those in the swearing-in cer-
emony with me. As I stood
at the edge of that arena, with
my hat pressed to my chest,
and my heart filled with pride
and reverence, I was deeply
moved by Peggy Tehan’s
voice filling the arena with
our national anthem, and my
day finished the way it should
have begun.
So I guess the moral of this
story is this country needs a
little more rodeo.
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