Rejoice with me

I had planned to use the phrase “More joy in Heaven” as a title for this post.  The words have been bouncing around in my head for the past few days, but it wasn’t until today when I sat down to get started that I actually looked the phrase up in Luke 15 and found that it wasn’t quite the way I thought it was.  The story was there, and it was as relevant as I remembered, but the use of the phrase just wasn’t right.  However, a quick read of the chapter led me to the words “Rejoice with me”, which is what I am now inviting you to do.

Here’s why.

Tomorrow at this time I will have been a Canadian citizen for exactly two weeks.  However, the occasion for rejoicing with me over that accomplishment has passed.  As I mentioned in my last post, “The party’s over”, and it’s starting to feel like time to get down to the hard work of actually being Canadian.   

I’m not sure how well I’m doing: so far I haven’t managed to pay attention to a single hockey score, let alone watch a game, though I did notice the headlines about that unexpected third period debacle in the Juniors against Russia, but of course I was only a Permanent Resident back then.  I am still passing by every Tim Horton’s without a pang of desire or regret, though I still remember the first one I went to back when Tim's served fifteen cent hamburgers near the bottom of Yonge Street in 1964.  And what I haven’t been able to divine is whether the revulsion I feel at any mention or appearance of Harper and his Conservatives is truly Canadian or just a manifestation of my non-Canadian immigrant experience. 

One of the benefits of this new identity I have achieved, besides being able to vote legally (as soon as I have the chance), is to carry a Canadian passport.  Since there are no elections that I know of coming up, I decided that one truly Canadian thing I could do was to apply for a passport.  It’s not the only time I’ve done that; in fact, my unsuccessful passport application in the fall of 2002 was the first official notification I ever got that I wasn’t actually a Canadian, something that sent me scrambling to obtain my current British/Bermudian one but not to actually get the paperwork done to become Canadian right then (something I have often regretted since).

As you might expect, I have plenty of experience with the nooks and crannies of the CIC website, so it was no problem to find and download the right form.  The instructions and cautions are lengthy and detailed, but the form itself is pretty straightforward, and the crux of the issue is being able to show that you are in fact a Canadian citizen.  Should be easy now!

And everything was easy until Section 4 on page 2, Proof of Canadian Citizenship.  Actually Section 4 A, Did you acquire citizenship of another country before JANUARY 1, 1947?, was still easy.  4 B did not apply to me, since I was not born in Canada.  It was 4 C, where I was given four options for proving I was Canadian, that ended up stopping me, because I couldn’t find the wallet-sized laminated card that was the Certificate of Canadian Citizenship I had been presented by Her Honour Linda Carvery only a week previous. 

I could give a very long and painful account of my days of looking for it, trying to track down the last occasion I had shown the card to somebody and to understand the faint physical memory that I had put it in my wallet and finding it just wasn’t there, taking apart my thick citizenship file over and over again, searching all the adjacent hanging files and the bottom of the file drawer, looking in every possible place inside the car, worrying that somehow it had gone out with the recyclables, checking the pockets of everything I wore to the ceremony, waking up at 4 a.m. with another sudden idea of where it might possibly be and then not finding it when I looked after day broke, e-mailing my CIC officer to find out how long it takes to get a replacement card (10 months!) and whether they could issue a temporary replacement (no), and just feeling stupider and stupider about losing the thing after spending so much time and effort to get it.

So, you may be able to imagine my happiness when I went through my wallet one final desperate time, decided to pull out my Blue Cross group insurance card even though there was no suggestion that anything else could be in that slot, and discovered my slim but perfect Certificate of Canadian Citizenship stuck to the back of it.  I looked at both sides of the card, I kissed it, I jumped in the air and shouted, I hugged Lorraine (kissed her too, of course), and I thought of the parable of “More joy in Heaven”, all of which led me to Luke 15, part of which goes like this:

8  Either what woman having ten pieces of silver, if she lose one piece, doth not light a candle, and sweep the house, and seek diligently until she find it?

9 And when she hath found it, she calleth her friends and her neighbours together, saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece which I had lost.

Forget the parts about the prodigal son or the sinner that repenteth, because the thing that was lost has been found, and my application can proceed.

So, after all that, and if you still care to do so, please

Rejoice with me!

The Party’s Over

It’s time to call it a day.

One of those days was last Tuesday at 10:30 in the morning when I lined up with forty other new Canadians from twenty-one different countries to have our documents checked prior to the Citizenship Ceremony where we would all be sworn in as Canadian citizens.

I shook hands with Her Honour Linda Carvery, the Citizenship Court Judge, who presided over the ceremony and granted us our citizenship.  When she asked me how long I had been in Canada, I told her 64 years, a slight exaggeration because I landed in Canada on March 15, 1947 and did spend five of those years living in Türkiye.  Then I reminded her that it was her decision that allowed me to become a Canadian and thanked her for it.

I also shook hands with the CIC Director, two Members of Parliament, a Municipal Councillor, a city policeman, a Mountie who had what looked like a knife scar in his right cheek, and a young boy who gave me my own flag.

Finally I joined two other new Canadians who went up to the front at Her Honour’s invitation to help her lead the singing of O Canada.  I was happy to be there, though the young man from Burundi and Ms. Carvery, herself an accomplished jazz/blues singer, didn’t really need my voice to make it an enthusiastic rendition of our anthem.

The other day, or actually night, was Saturday when the real party started, our celebration of my new Canadian citizenship.  An eclectic crew of family and friends, that included a variety of citizenships and statuses, showed up with food and drink to welcome me and wish me well.  When I was called on to make a speech I wasn’t sure how to begin so I started to sing O Canada.  The whole crowd joined in with melodic gusto, though our numbers were fewer when we sang it en francais.

I don’t have images of the party itself (most were too busy talking to take pictures), but it was a good time, I think, and I did record some floral arrangements, a few gifts, the Canada windsock by the door, and our Christmas wreath which just happened to have the right colours for this occasion.

So, Canada, here I come, I’m one of you now.  The party may be over but it ain’t time to call it a day.  Not yet, eh.

Post #121: On Becoming Canadian

Last week I got a letter from Citizenship and Immigration Canada.

It was a NOTICE TO APPEAR - TO TAKE THE OATH OF CITIZENSHIP.

It included this PERMISSION RELEASE - MEDIA CONSENT FORM.  (You can click on the image if you want to read it.  Use the back button to return to the post.)

I will show up on January 11, 2011 at 10:30 a.m. for the ceremony.

I will solemnly repeat that OATH OR AFFIRMATION OF CITIZENSHIP.

And I will sign the Citizenship Ceremony - Permission Release to allow the media to photograph, video, and/or record me at the ceremony.

It is an important occasion.

I have been a Landed Immigrant/Permanent Resident for 63 years.

It's been a long time coming, but a week from tomorrow I am going to become a Canadian.

And I am happy for that.

Just wondering if I'm supposed to start watching hockey -- have to do some research on this being Canadian thing.

Canada Day, 2010

Canada Day, 2010 was quite a lovely day. Here are some of the nice things that happened on Canada Day this year:

Two of our old good friends, both Canadians, came out to our place for Canada Day brunch.

One, who was born in Canada and is a citizen, brought beautiful red local strawberries, which we slathered with white yoghurt in the spirit of the day.

The other, who used to be an immigrant like me but is now a citizen, kindly asked about my citizenship quest (no significant progress yet, I told him, though my two letters to Jason Kenney have elicited replies from someone called Yves who seems to work on Ministerial Enquiries; check here if you want to know more).

A couple of Canadians who phoned wished me a Happy Canada Day, a generously inclusive gesture, I thought.

I worked in the garden for a while, a very Canadian activity.

A. and E., both Canadians, got appropriate tattoos for Canada’s 143rd birthday.

Two other old good friends, one an immigrant who is now a citizen and the other who is a Canadian citizen by birth, invited us to barbecue burgers over on McNab’s, another very Canadian activity.

We couldn’t go to McNab’s, because we had already agreed to go to the wedding of two Canadians, one of whom is my brother.
There were many Canadian guests there, and it was a great solemnization and celebration, both serious and informal, punctuated with Canadian energy, humour, and enthusiasm.

We heard a most wonderful young Canadian violinist, the daughter of the groom, who played Saint-Saens exquisitely for her dad (and the rest of us who were privileged to witness the event).

We sang Feelin’ Groovy, a Canadian song, and a wonderful medley of Beatles songs, not Canadian in origin but rendered with Canadian sentiment and gusto.

We didn’t sing O Canada, but I think we were all proud to be Canadians (or almost Canadians) on Canada Day this year.

My Maple Leaf Card

It’s official, I picked it up today, my Maple Leaf card, so I am now a certified Permanent Resident of Canada, also known as a PR. Hooray for that, I say, though you might wonder if you saw the image on my card why they decided they wanted to make me permanent since I look neither very happy (the passport photo guy wouldn’t let me smile) nor open to making significant positive contributions to my new homeland. But there we are, so for all of you Canadians out there, I am now one of you! Or, to be more accurate, I almost am.

The next step of course is to get my Canadian citizenship, so I can vote and carry a passport like yours and feel I truly belong here (just like my mother and six brothers and wife and three children and three grandchildren and sundry friends and acquaintances and neighbours). But then getting my citizenship is another story, much longer than this one, and it will just have to wait for another post.

The front of my new card, besides the very stern image of FIELD ROGER MICHAEL, has a tiny Canadian flag in the upper left corner, a stylized Canada goose in the lower right (just above the cute Canada printed with an even tinier flag over the final a), and a silver maple leaf just below centre with built in holograms of other maple leaves and the Canadian coat of arms. It’s a sturdy card, and I will carry it in my wallet as a symbol of my sturdy (and stern) patriotism.

The back of the card tells even more, in very small type, about FIELD ROGER MICHAEL:

Height/Taille 179 cm
Eyes/Yeux BLUE/BLEU
COB/PDN BMU (translation: Country of Birth/Pays de Naissance BERMUDA)
PR Since/RP Depuis 15 04 1947
Category/Categoire XXX/XXX

The second last line above tells it all: it says I’ve been a PR since April 15, 1947, which is a very long time. The problem has been that I haven’t had a card to say so since I mislaid my original Landed Immigrant card a few years ago and have carried around a well worn notarized copy of it and my Bermudian birth certificate (also mislaid), which looks like a page from a late Victorian ledger. So now I have my new card to prove that I am truly and officially a Permanent Resident of Canada, at least for the next five years, at which time I may have to renew it if the citizenship thing doesn't work out.

I am puzzled, though, about that last line, my Category/Categoire. Does XXX (the English version) indicate that I’ve been a PR for far too long? After all, it is coming up to 63 years since I was granted status as an immigrant here and maybe my time and Canada’s patience is running out. And what does XXX (the French version) signify? I should have asked J., my CIC officer and greeter today, because she would have been bilingual, but I was so happy to have the card that I didn’t even look on the back. So I think I’ll have to take my Category on faith, unless I can find some other PR’s like me and check out the backs of their cards.

So if you see me walking a little differently over the next few days or even weeks, with a little more bounce in my step, it’s because I am now a PR, I live here, and I’ll happily show you the card to prove it.

All we need now is for our government to do something to make all of us Canadians proud -- just don’t hold your breath right now waiting for that to happen!

Me and Canada Day

Today is Thursday, the day after Canada Day, the 142nd birthday of this country. On Tuesday, the day before Canada Day, our local CBC station ran a story about a man who has been a landed immigrant in Canada even longer than I have. As I remember from the news account, he landed in Canada some time in the spring of 1946, probably at the Pier 21 Immigration Shed (now an Immigration Museum), the same one I arrived in about a year later. He was the son of a Canadian serviceman and his Scottish war bride, and, like me, he always thought he was Canadian – a citizen of Canada, that is – until he applied for a passport and found he wasn’t.

I landed at Pier 21 on March 16, 1947 and my card indicates “ADMITTED NON-IMMIGRANT"; a month later my parents received a card dated April 15, 1947 that said “LANDED IMMIGRANT”, and that is the status I have had ever since. I believe that the man on the news has applied for his citizenship. By my reckoning he should have had it long ago since his dad was a Canadian, but perhaps he didn’t ever apply for it. My situation is a little different. It is my mother who was and is Canadian, as were her mother and maternal grandmother, and I couldn't inherit her citizenship because I was born before 1949 when that law changed. My father was British, though he himself became a Canadian some time after immigrating, and I travel on a British passport, since Bermuda, where I was born, no longer issues its own passports. Last October, after sixty-two years as a landed immigrant of Canada, I decided I should make my association with this country more permanent and official and I applied to become a Canadian citizen.

So, I am looking forward to being a real Canadian and will certainly post an account of that occasion here when it does occur (the CBC story talked about a 12 to 14 month processing period for applications, so it may not be soon!). However, I did my best to celebrate my adopted country’s birthday yesterday. I went for my first Canadian outdoor swim yesterday afternoon at Caribou Park Beach, even though the wind was pretty fierce out of the north, the air temperature was about 18 degrees, and the water felt about the same. I ate, with my Canadian wife and Canadian friends, a large and fine bowl of lobster bisque (lobsters landed at the Caribou government wharf on an inlet of Northumberland Strait) made with Canadian Carnation milk. I toasted, albeit with an Italian pinot grigio, the joys of my adopted country and thanked these fine Canadians for sharing their celebration with me. I joined them for a very Canadian driftwood bonfire on their beach and applauded the small but spectacular fireworks display. And I slept in my MEC sleeping bag, soundly and proudly Canadian.

So, Happy Canada Day – may there be many more – and maybe next July 1st I will sing O Canada, our home and native land, (you can listen here) as a legitimate citizen of this large and mostly fine young country!