On the Border

About 3 days before we were scheduled to leave Juneau, a bolt of thought thundered into my mind, ‘Where is my passport’? Once we got off the ferry, we were to drive into Canada, then pass back into Alaska. TSA has made a big deal about needing passports and not allowing entry without. At the very least you need a driver’s license and your birth certificate. Where is my birth certificate? Is it in the legal documents from Juneau we just moved to storage? A stealthy trip at night to storage confirmed the birth certificate also was nowhere to be found—well, I know where both documents are, but the barge is somewhere between Seattle and Barrow at this point. Major stress descends! Husband calls the border (he IS good). The answer is, it depends on the guard at the time, you need to prove you’re a US citizen. Still stressed, but I do have my two previous passports and my current Alaska driver’s license. Of course Husband is joking about my deportation as we approach the border into Canada, I’d do the same to him don’t make any mistake about that.

“Hi. Here’s the deal. We’re moving to Barrow and I accidentally packed my current passport and my birth certificate in the boxes that are on the barge right now. I do have my license and my old passports, though.”
So she looks at me, my picture and opens my two previous passports. (My first passport was issued in 1975 and is a veritable antique). “It’s fun to see one of these old passports”, she says. And basically off we went after a final question about my place of birth (which I have memorized). SCORE! Why do I feel as though I’ve gotten away with something? I AM a US citizen after all!
Several hours and miles later that day we approach US customs. These two YOUNG guys were a little more inquisitive wondering why we were moving from two different states even though we’re married. After that long story, I handed over the two passports. “Hey, look at this.” Guy1 says to Guy2. “I’ve never seen one of these!” [Neither one of these guys was born when this passport was issued.] Oh, no, that didn't make me feel old at all. Come to think of it, I was kinda sad that he hadn't been able to partake in the madcap days of hippies, war protests, and Grateful Dead concerts that were hallmarks of the '70s.
So enthralled is he, that he starts reading all of the rules and regulations from back in the day.
He’s getting a real kick out of the text inside, not to mention my hairstyle and the shirt I was wearing that we all remarked were currently coming back into style.

After several shared laughs and a dog cookie for the girls, off we went. Moral to the story: always, always keep those old passports, you never know when they’ll come in handy.