Clerc Scar 1.1
29 June 2009
=====
Look at the FedEx logo. The space between the E and the X forms an arrow. Brilliant, right? That's the result of a designer who cares. You'll never
see a FedEx truck in the same way.
At Nebo Studio, it's not just about the design. We'll take the time to develop an image that reflects your vision and personality. Visit http://www.nebodio.com today.
=====
WEDDING EVE BORDER CROSSING
Melanie Bond
Words: 4,751
[Memoir]
Today was an extraordinary day. This American girl's hopes and dreams for
her wedding tomorrow depended on one single event that had to happen
tonight. My fiance had to successfully cross the U.S.-Canadian border
without getting caught and deported back to Canada. If we could keep our
wits about us and not draw any attention to ourselves, and if we could
take the admonitions of a concerned U.S. senator to heart, then we could
certainly expect to have a successful border crossing on the eve of our
wedding and a joyous marriage celebration tomorrow.
Once Harvey and I declared our love for each other and our desire to be
united in holy matrimony, we set our wedding date on the day before
Thanksgiving so that we could have the entire 4-day weekend for our
honeymoon. This being the second marriage for both of us, we wanted our
wedding to be a small private affair with a few close family members and
friends gathered together.
Because of our different nationalities, I made several inquiries to my
U.S. senator about what I needed to do to make sure there were no hidden
snags or international laws that might prevent us from being married. The
more I checked things out, the more clear it became that our best option
was for Harvey to file for permanent U.S. residency from within the United
States rather than from Canada. The secret was for Harvey to get across
the border without making known our plans to be married. Harvey and I had
made many border crossings over the past few months without ever being
pulled over for questioning. Chances were pretty good that they would wave
us through like they always did. Still, we needed to be careful.
Everything depended on tonight. Everything!
On this eve of our wedding day, November 22nd, 1988, my brother Jed (not
his real name) drove me from Lansing, Michigan, to Windsor, Ontario, to
pick Harvey up from the train station. Going through Detroit usually meant
a round-trip of about 225 miles. In the past, I always picked Harvey up
from the train station in Sarnia (going through Port Huron) or the bus
station or train station in Windsor. As long as there was daylight, I had
no problem driving my car. Each time I picked Harvey up, he would often
take over and drive us back to my home in Lansing as night fell. With
Harvey around, I never had to worry about whether there was enough
daylight time or not. I had been diagnosed with Usher syndrome about six
years prior to this time and already night blindness was preventing me
from driving safely at night. On this day, I knew that Harvey would be
arriving much later than usual and that it would be getting dark before we
arrived at the train station. For this reason, I asked Jed to drive my
car.
I always became excited the closer I got to the Ambassador Bridge which
would take me from Detroit, Michigan, to Windsor, Ontario. This bridge
stretches high up over the Detroit River which, along with Lake St. Clair
and Lake Huron, serves as the border between U.S. and Canada. On the other
side of this river was a Canadian that I was very much in love with. I
cherished every moment we had together. Every time I had to bring him back
to Canada for his return trip to Toronto, I felt as if a part of me was
missing. Often two or three weeks would go by before we could be in each
other's arms again.
Jed and I arrived at the VIA train station and waited until Harvey's train
arrived. Seeing Harvey step off the train this evening brought untold joy
to my heart. If all went well, he would be coming home with me to stay. It
felt great knowing that I would not have to drive him back to Canada and
part with him again. Although long-distance relationships can be extremely
difficult to maintain, Harvey and I always made the extra effort to stay
in touch by phone. Every morning, one of us would call the other at 7:45
a.m and we would talk for 15 minutes. At 8:00 a.m. sharp, we both had to
hang up if we were going to make it to work on time! This limited
telephone plan helped curb what might have otherwise become an
astronomical phone bill. But at the very least, it was well worth any
price to be able to share our lives and to nurture our growing love for
each other.
And now, here we were together again, this time for good. We kissed as he
pulled me into his arms and held me close. We then walked back to the car
with our arms around each other. Harvey threw his two duffel bags into the
trunk and we all hopped into the car to head back toward the U.S-Canadian
border just a short distance away. The setting sun cast its final golden
rays upon the dark murky waters of the Detroit River as we crossed the
high suspension bridge over to the American side. Four lanes of heavy
traffic slowed down to a crawl and inched forward toward one of the few
U.S. border checkpoints.
While we waited in long lines of traffic, I thought about all the warnings
that had transpired between myself and my U.S. senator and his tremendous
staff. It was they who had given me insight and knowledge so necessary for
Harvey and I to be able to cross the border without any interference from
U.S. customs officers and a smooth transition from singlehood into married
life. The senator and his staff had urged me to let Harvey know that under
no circumstances was he to divulge any information about our wedding plans
to any U.S. customs officer at the border. I had previously warned Jed to
say nothing of our upcoming marriage and he implicitly agreed by tipping
his head once. I knew I could trust Jed to keep our secret safe.
But I wasn't so sure about Harvey. He had balked at the idea of having to
conceal our wedding plans and to maybe lie to a customs officer to keep
our plans secret. He always strove to be honest and truthful, even when it
got him into trouble. Telling anyone a white lie, and especially an
immigration officer, really bothered his conscience. Although I admired
his integrity, I also encouraged him to err on the side of compassion and
love rather than on the side of brutal honesty. He wouldn't make any
promises about what he might say if he were to be interrogated at the
border. However, chances of us being questioned on this one specific topic
were probably slim to nil. In all the many border crossings that we had
made over the past few months, we had never once been pulled over. We let
the matter drop and didn't give this topic another thought. That is, until
now.
After waiting in long lines of slow-moving traffic waiting to get
clearance to enter Michigan, we finally pulled up to a booth where an
officer proceeded to ask us the usual cursory questions. Little did we
know what was in store for us!
The customs officer bellowed out loudly, "What's your citizenship?"
Jed and I called out "American!" At the same time, Harvey called out
"Canadian!"
The officer then asked all of us, "May I see your identification papers?"
Jed and I presented our Michigan driver licenses. Harvey presented a small
plastic holder that contained his Nova Scotia birth certificate and
picture ID.
The officer perused them quickly, looked at me for a moment, held out a
picture and asked me, "Is this you?"
I was surprised to see a picture of myself dressed in a revealing
bridesmaid gown holding my maid of honor's bouquet of flowers. I had given
this picture to Harvey shortly after we had met at Niagara Falls and ever
since then, he never went anywhere without carrying my picture in his
small plastic holder. And now the officer was in possession of this very
interesting photo. I couldn't help but wonder where this was leading to.
I nodded my head and affirmed, "Yep, it's me!"
He then directed his next question to me and Harvey, "What is the
relationship between you two?"
I held my breath as Harvey responded, "We're good friends . . . (long
pause) . . . we're engaged to be married."
Aarrrghh! Why did he have to volunteer that crucial piece of information?
Why tempt the gods on the eve of our wedding? Maybe he had no choice but
to be brutally honest! Alarm bells went off inside my head. An invisible
shield slammed down in front of my face to block out intruders from
detecting the emotional turmoil that I felt tumbling inside me.
All the warnings the U.S. senator and his staff had shared with me now
played in my mind. They told horror stories of how lovers engaged to be
married were torn apart and separated at the border because they did not
possess lawful proof of residency in the new country where they planned to
start their new lives together. Weddings had to be cancelled. Even newly
married couples found themselves stranded on opposite sides of the border
if they did not show adequate proof of residency. These forced separations
lasted as long as it took to get their applications for permanent
residency processed and approved. And, unfortunately, in Canada, that
process could last up to two years or more. Families were torn asunder
during these long, forced separations. It didn't matter which person was
banned because both countries would not allow the other one to cross the
border to live in their country without the proper residency papers.
Harvey and I had already agreed that he would apply for permanent U.S.
residency status once he got safely across the border and we were married.
This was the only way we could be together. He would be permitted to live
with me while his application for permanent residency was being processed.
But until he was given permanent status, he was not to leave this country.
If he returned to Canada, he would not be able to get back into the States
until after his application had been approved. The U.S. senator and his
staff had freely shared this information with me for humanitarian reasons.
God bless them! As a rule, they do not share this information with anyone
unless a lawful citizen is directly involved in an international love
relationship. Their final warning to me had included a disclaimer that
sent chills running up my spine.
They stated emphatically, "If you get caught at the border, we'll deny
that we ever spoke with you."
The customs officer at the booth was right on target with his questioning.
Boy, was he ever good! He had Harvey right where he wanted him, with
Harvey and his pricked conscience, wavering between right and wrong.
Unless Harvey learned quickly that telling the truth might not always be
in his, my, or our best interest, he could undo all the careful planning
that had been done up to this point. If he gave away our wedding plans, he
might as well throw our future away. Our future hung in the balance while
Harvey fought his conscience. If he revealed all, he would be deported so
fast he wouldn't know what hit him.
I prayed for a miracle. Either we would be together tonight or we
wouldn't. One little white lie could save us. Surely the God who
transcends all national boundaries would understand if Harvey told one
little lie in the name of love. If we were going to have a fighting
chance, Harvey would have to act quickly to get himself back on track and
to lead the customs officer away from his hard line of questioning. I
waited in breathless silence for the officer to throw him the bait and
reel him in--hook, line and sinker!
Without missing a beat, the officer asked Harvey, "When are you getting
married?"
At this point, everything hung in the balance. Everything! Harvey's answer
was critical. I honestly did not know how he was going to answer. The
officer was watching us very closely. He watched every facial expression,
every body movement, every voice inflection, every eye movement. It was as
if he was just waiting to pounce on us if the wrong answer should be
given. Jed and I remained totally quiet and disinterested. We averted our
eyes from the officer's steady gaze so as not to give ourselves away. I
was praying that Harvey's answer would be the right one.
After what seemed to be an interminably long pause, Harvey answered the
officer with a frown on his face.
"Well, we haven't exactly set a date yet!"
The silence was deafening! I was extremely relieved to hear him say that!
That was about as close to the truth that Harvey could possibly manage!
Although we did know the date (tomorrow), we didn't really know the exact
minute or second when we would say "I do!" Okay, so Harvey fudged a little
bit on this one. But for once, it was the right thing to do.
Ready with his next question, the officer asked him, "What is the purpose
of your visit to the States?"
Harvey quickly responded, "I'm going to spend Thanksgiving weekend with my
girlfriend and her family."
The officer queried, "How long are you staying?"
Harvey responded, "Until Sunday."
Ahh, Harvey was learning to play the game though it troubled his conscience.
After the officer had ascertained that Harvey had taken a train from
Toronto to Windsor and that we had picked him up at the train station, he
asked Harvey for his return train ticket. Harvey started to explain that
he never bought round-trip tickets because it was cheaper to buy one-way
tickets. Although he didn't mention this to the officer, he preferred
one-way tickets because it allowed him greater flexibility in deciding
when to return home to Toronto.
The officer challenged Harvey and asked him, "Well, how am I supposed to
believe you? How do I know that you intend to return to Canada after this
weekend if you don't have a return ticket in your possession?"
Although Harvey was truthful when he explained why he only bought one-way
tickets, he was struggling to come up with an acceptable answer.
The officer challenged him again. He demanded quite emphatically, "Do you
. . . or do you not . . . have a return ticket in your possession?"
Harvey grimaced as he was forced to admit, "No, I don't have a return
ticket. I always buy one-way tickets!"
The officer immediately ordered us to pull over into the holding area.
Silent inner groans emanated from all three of us inside the car though
our facial expressions remained indifferent.
As we pulled over, another officer walked over and told us to get out of
the car. Jed was ordered to open the trunk and to leave the keys in the
ignition. The officer then directed us to go inside the customs office and
wait. Jed and Harvey left immediately with officers who ushered them away.
I was totally unaware of what had just happened. I continued to stand
where I was and watched the officer check my car out. He opened up
Harvey's duffel bags in the trunk and examined the contents with his hands
and a flashlight. He then proceeded to pull all four doors open and patted
the doors, the seats and the floors down, shining his bright flashlight
into every nook and cranny.
A female officer came over to me and told me that I needed to go wait
inside the office. I vaguely became aware that she was speaking to me so I
asked her to repeat her words. Once I understood her instructions, I
looked around to ask Harvey for his guiding arm. But to my surprise and
dismay, he and Jed were nowhere to be found! I asked the officer where
they had gone and she informed me that they were already inside the office
being processed. I felt a little shaken that neither Harvey nor my brother
had offered to guide me into the office and had left me standing there
alone. I asked her to point out where the office was located and quickly
noted the direction she was pointing in. I made sure that I pointed myself
in that same direction and started walking toward the building.
From where I had stood with the advantage of bright spotlights around the
perimeter of the holding area, I had gotten a clear view of the building.
But as I walked closer toward the building, I found its clear features
becoming more obscure. I could no longer make out where the doors or the
windows or the corners of the building were. This is similar to what a
person would see through a pair of binoculars or a knothole in a fence.
However, with the added insults of night blindness, loss of depth
perception, and the night closing in on me, I totally lost whatever visual
perceptions I had. I no longer knew where I was though I most assuredly
knew I was somewhere in front of the building.
I continued to walk forward, a bit more slowly and hesitatingly, with my
hands outstretched and searching to make contact with the face of the
building. Once I touched the building, I turned left thinking that the
front doors were to my left. I let my hand trail along the hard exterior
of the building. I could feel the uneven pavement and became concerned
about the possibility of tripping over curbs, steps, potholes and hidden
stairwells. I finally came to a corner which I was hoping would be the
entry way to the building. Walking a little bit further on, I realized
with a shock that I had completely missed the front doors and had gone
clear around the corner of the building.
At this time, I began to lose my composure. There was no one around that I
could call on for assistance. Diagnosed with Usher syndrome six years
before, I knew this day would come. And I was totally unprepared to deal
with it. It would still be another seven years before I received my first
white cane. But for now, I was already becoming disoriented and
frightened. I couldn't see my way clearly and I didn't know what I was
supposed to do. I could feel tears of frustration threatening to engulf
me. I began to feel anger and resentment toward Harvey and Jed for having
abandoned me. How could they just leave me all alone like this? I couldn't
see anyone or anything. I couldn't tell if I was being stalked! My
unfounded fear was getting the best of me! I could feel panic beginning to
rise from deep inside me but knew I had to get a grip on myself, and fast!
Survival instincts took over. I took a few deep breaths to help calm
myself down and to get my bearings, if such a thing was possible for an
inept blind person lacking blind skills! I knew that I couldn't give up
until I got myself to a place of safety. I debated whether to continue
moving forward or to turn around and go back the other way. I decided
against going back because I did not want to navigate the uneven pavement,
potholes and unseen stairwells. I continued moving forward with my hand
still trailing the sides of the building. I came to another corner, only
this one was more tapered, as if leading to an entryway. I looked up to
see a faint glow of light coming through a small window and walked toward
it. When my hands touched one of the two windows, I realized that these
windows belonged to a set of doors. How happy I was to stumble onto these
doors! I grabbed the door handles to go inside but found them locked. A
second wave of panic threatened to sink me. Once again, I took a few more
deep breaths and pulled myself together. I took another look inside the
doors and scanned with my eyes back and forth to see if I could spot
anyone on the inside. I was too close to give up now.
I saw Harvey standing at the counter, talking and gesturing to an unseen
officer behind the counter. I was so relieved to know that he was all
right and that he was not being led away in handcuffs! I started pounding
on the double doors to get his attention. Harvey looked toward me and was
startled to find me standing there. He came rushing right over to let me
in but the doors were locked from the inside. He quickly went back and
asked one of the officers to let me in. I can just imagine him having to
explain to the officers why I didn't just come through the front doors! An
officer graciously let me in through the doors. As Harvey ushered me in, I
realized that there was a small foyer and another set of double doors that
I had to walk through. No wonder the light from inside the building was
so dim and that I had to pound the door to get Harvey's attention.
Once inside the building, I felt so relieved to be safe once again.
However, I was still feeling humiliated after what I had just gone
through. I felt hurt that neither Harvey nor Jed thought of me. I pouted a
little bit and sat defiantly with my arms and legs crossed. I aimed dagger
eyes at Harvey but he seemed not to notice how upset I was. Since Harvey
was generally a kind and considerate person, I couldn't stay mad at him. I
finally shared my most recent harrowing experience with him. He apologized
for having forgotten all about me and gave me a light kiss and squeezed my
hand. He told me that in the excitement and stress of being pulled over
and then being ordered inside, and thinking that he was about to be
arrested, he had momentarily forgotten me--until I showed up about 15-20
minutes later! Jed probably didn't understand the extent of my vision loss
so it probably never occurred to him that he should have checked on me
when I didn't come in right away. I had always been fiercely independent
from the time I was young so he probably just figured that I would show up
sooner or later. Hmmph, men!
Harvey now walked me over to the counter and told me that I had to hand my
ID over to an officer so that she could run a police check on me. He
explained that he and Jed had already turned theirs in and that the
officers were running police checks on them too. Harvey then told me that
I had to give my purse to the officer so that she could check its
contents. Though I had nothing to hide, I did not feel that our actions
warranted an invasive search.
Harvey pleaded with me to calm down and to cooperate with the officers so
that things would go more smoothly for us. It was hard sitting and waiting
and wondering why this was all happening. Harvey told me quietly that the
officers were just doing their job and that I shouldn't take this
personally.
As we sat and waited, I wondered what it was that triggered the car search
and gave them the right to invade our privacy. Was it Harvey's one-way
ticket? Was it him mentioning our engagement? Was it my long-haired
brother who wore old-fashioned dark-rimmed glasses and old Army fatigues?
Jed continued to sit nonchalantly while we were being detained. I wondered
if skeletons were going to show up on Jed's police report. Finally, after
waiting for a couple hours or so, an officer told us that we were free to
go. Just like that without an explanation? I walked over to the counter
and asked why we had been detained.
The officer responded, "Oh, it was just a routine check."
A routine check that held us up for more than two hours? Now that we had
missed picking up my two young daughters from their babysitter's on time,
I wanted a better explanation.
I told the officer quite emphatically, "You kept us here for over two
hours. I'd like to know why we were being detained!"
While the officer contemplated a calculated response, Harvey came up from
behind me, placed his hand firmly over mine and started pulling me away
toward the door and out the door.
"Hey!" I yelled at him in hushed tones. "I deserve an answer! Why did you
have to pull me away like that for? I have a right to know!"
He continued walking me straight to my car, still holding my hand firmly.
I had to quicken my pace just to keep up with his long strides. Once we
got inside the car, Jed drove away and Harvey released my hand. When
Harvey felt it was safe to do so, he turned to me and pleaded, "Please let
it go, Mel. It's not worth stirring up any more trouble. We came so close
to not walking out of there together tonight! I don't want to give them
any reason to hold us any longer than they already have! I can't risk
getting deported when we are so close to getting married! I'm truly sorry
I had to pull you away like that! Can you please forgive me?"
I felt a little hurt but I could see the wisdom of what he said. I
swallowed my pride and nodded my head to show him that I understood and
that he was forgiven. I began to realize that Harvey's experience had been
just as traumatic for him as mine had been for me. If he hadn't made it
across the border this night, there would be no wedding tomorrow. Those
were the cold hard facts. I also began to realize how much more important
it was for Harvey to make it safely inside our borders, in much the same
way that I had struggled to get inside the customs office safely this
night. Perhaps I needed my humbling night walk experience and a little
fear to understand what he had just been through tonight. It seemed as if
we had both been tested and, by the grace of God, we were allowed to
continue our journey.
Harvey and I sat silently in the back seat of my car while my brother Jed
drove like a madman the last 100 miles home. Being detained had left us
all emotionally drained. Jed now directed his anger against motorists who
had the misfortune to share the same highway with us. Jed exceeded the
speed limit and kept slamming on the brakes. When it was safe to do so, he
would floor the car and curse any driver who got in his way and caused him
to hit the brakes again. It was not the most fitting escort for a
soon-to-be-married couple but I'm sure the trip home was quite a memorable
one for Harvey!
Harvey briefly mentioned that the Fosters had given us a wedding gift and
a card just before he left Toronto. While on the train to Windsor, he had
the foresight to remove the wrapping paper and to dispose of it along with
the envelope which had been addressed to "The New Bride and Bridegroom."
He had also packed his clothes lightly to make it appear that he was only
coming for the weekend. I shared with him that while he and Jed were being
processed in the customs office, I had watched an officer go through his
duffel bags with a fine-tooth comb. Harvey shook his head in disbelief. It
was good that he had taken some precautions. Tonight depended on
everything. Everything!
Realizing how close we had come to almost not making it home tonight, we
reached for each other's hands and held them tightly. How precious life
was! Our fingers began its playful weaving and dancing in the dark.
=====
Melanie Bond is a retired technical writer and document analyst in the
Michigan Department of the Treasury. She is the winner of the first
GoldinPoetry Award and is a prominent leader in the deaf-blind community,
being the founder and moderator of several important deaf-blind online
discussion groups. She lives with her husband, Harvey, in Bay City,
Michigan.
=====
We welcome letters to the editor in response to this piece. Send to editor@clercscar.com. We reserve the right to edit letters for space and clarity or not to publish a letter.
To subscribe, email subscribe@clercscar.com with the message "Subscribe me."
To unsubscribe, email subscribe@clercscar.com with the message "Unsubscribe me."
Visit our archives or bookstore at http://www.clercscar.com.
Copyright 2009 by Clerc Scar. All rights reserved.
|