i'm in the midst of crazy times, finding out that my workplace is not as safe as i hoped when a couple electronic devices of mine were stolen last week. i'm not really used to having multiple electronic devices, but the last 6 months or so have seen such things introduced into my life with startling suddenness. i was thinking, mere days before the theft, that there were too many fancy things in my life. well, someone engineered to take them away and bring me back down to my accustomed level.
the next day, the day after, i spent an hour yelling at at&t because they broke my heart. i felt like thin glass, and was entirely sick of crying. i decided to go for a drive, as i am currently car-sitting and the idea of driving with very little idea of destination is a ridiculous luxury that makes me feel happy and a little bit icky at the same time. it was an escape hatch for my teenage self, when the massachusetts roads were long and dark, and gasoline was cheap and plentiful and not really thought about all that much. when i got to the foyer of my building, on my way to the car, there was suddenly a fedex door tag with my name on it where there hadn't been one a mere two hours before. that wouldn't be so mysterious if the time on the tag hadn't been two hours before that, even, which was before i came home. so, yeah, package from heaven. i found out later that my housemate had found it on the floor where it had fallen, and re-attached it so i would be sure not to miss it. at the time, though, it felt like a gift from out of thin air.
i grabbed it with wild imaginary scenarios whirling through my head. what if someone found my camera or phone and somehow knew exactly where to send them? no, no, that doesn't make any sense. well, what if it had all been a prank? some supposed friend had taken my things, only to send them to me later, to teach me a lesson. no, no. absolutely ridiculous. i studied the information on the door tag. signature needed. ok. last name misspelled. vaguely amusing. pick up after 6, before 8, at an address i wasn't sure i could pinpoint on a map. slightly annoying.
i had a very foggy idea of the exact location of fedex headquarters in san francisco. as i jumped in the car at ten after 7 in the gray dusk, i pointed the car towards that foggy idea. my idea matched the air around me as the night grew its usual murky. i stopped at a pay phone and rang the fedex number, hoping for a human voice to direct me. it seemed so important, somehow, that i get that package as soon as humanly possible. if i missed the 8 pm cut-off, the melancholy would get me, and i would spend the evening in my room, sad, staring at the wall and wondering where my cell phone could possibly be right NOW. there was only a mechanical voice to tell me what i already knew, that there was a package with my name on it, out there, somewhere.
so, i vehicularly wandered through the bayview for about 2 minutes before i found the street i needed. unfortunately, i found the end of the street, blocks and blocks from the address i was seeking. it's the sort of street that is cut up mercilessly by bridges and train tracks and dead ends. how to find the correct segment? there were wrong turns, and cul de sacs populated only by skateboarders showing off their cool for no one to see. i finally lucked out when i ended up turning down a street i knew well, and allowed my eyes to follow a bicyclist in front of me, who seemed intent on entering a street to the left that i had always thought was just another dead end. it was, but at the dead center of the end i spied the corner of a familiar purple and orange logo.
i rushed in with fifteen minutes to spare. by this time, i had no idea what the package could possibly be. all of my fanciful ideas evaporating with each moment of searching. i stood and listened to this exchange between the two men in the office with me, who were also waiting for packages. the first was the bicyclist who had led the way for my eyes:
"hey, do you have verizon?"
"yeah"
"is your phone working? i haven't had service for, like, two weeks."
"whoah. yeah, my service is fine. you should probably call them."
"yeah, i'll give them a call. it's kind of hard to do, though, when you have no phone!"
buddum-bum-tsh.
thankfully the woman came back with my package, checked my ID, and handed it to me. when i saw how thin it was, i abandoned the last shred of ridiculous hope that it had anything to do with what had recently been stolen from me. once i had it in my hand, i glanced at the address and suddenly none of that mattered. irish consulate. fuck.
go back 4 years. go back to a time when i had just recently moved back to san francisco. it was election day, i remember. and i picked up a package from a very different place, a package that said "open upon warning of early snowfall." inside i found a note from my sister, proclaiming that, because we were the grandchildren of a taciturn and angry lady who we barely knew, but who happened to have been born in ireland, we could claim irish citizenship, and therefore EU citizenship. we could live most anywhere in europe, and work, and be happy. also in the package were all the papers that proved that i was a direct descendent of Ms. Bridget Doyle, born in county Kerry in 1901. there was also a check for the amount required to get a US passport, the first step in the process. my sister had gotten all of these papers together as an early christmas present. it was a lot. it was overwhelming.
i sat on those papers for three years before i finally had the ability to gather the rest of what i needed -- before i finally had the US passport, and the fee, and the notarized copies of my identification, etc. -- to put in my application. i had a lawyer friend of mine attest to my identity in the middle of a dark bar, his signature the very last thing i needed before sending it all in to the irish consulate. i was told it could take a year and a half. that was what i was expecting.
a little over seven months later, i was handed a package in the fedex building in san francisco and i lost my mind, just a little bit. i was sure it was a rejection notice. i'm not sure they send out rejection notices, but there you go. i had just had so many other things taken from me, that i was certain this was going to be added to the list. when i opened the package and read"i am pleased to inform you that your name has now been entered as an irish citizen in the foreign births registry held here at the consulate" i started to sob. again. such good news in the midst of so much else bad.
this entry began as the first hello on this blog-type thing. it veered from there because mere minutes before registering here, i had been looking online for anything i might want to know about the irish passport application, my next step on this long, long journey. what i found was a whole lot of entrepreneurs attempting to sell their books, or guides, or advice to a populace desperate for options. become an irish citizen! send me money! i lucked out, in that my sister had advice from someone who had gone through the process, and she then shared everything with my brother and i. i can't imagine how desperate i might feel if i didn't know what to do, and there were all these vultures offering their help, for only $29.95 and up.
it is a confusing process, and i could understand going to someone for expensive help, out of desperation or frustration. but the process itself is pricey, so why add to that cost? i want to give free advice, if i can, since capitalizing on that frustration is a bit abhorrent to me. the very first advice that i have is to contact the irish consulate near you. it has to go through the consulate in your region, so make sure you are contacting the correct one. there is a list here: http://irelandnow.com/consulates.html.
my sister said the one in boston is kind of unsettling, and she had to hand her papers and application through bulletproof glass. here in san francisco, they really discourage bringing the application in in person, they prefer you to mail it. there is still that bulletproof glass, but with smiling, trusting faces behind it. so, things are different all over.
the next piece of advice i have is that i believe you really can't claim citizenship if your great-grandparents were born in ireland, UNLESS your parent claimed their citizenship from what would be their grandparent before you were born. it doesn't matter that your grandparent would then be a citizen because they were born to irish citizens, which was the case at the time, because they have to actually have been born on irish soil. if one of your grandparents was born on irish soil, you can start the process.
the third important thing is to ask a lot of questions. it turns out that my irish citizenship is through my father, who i have had absolutely no contact with for 21 years. (whoah, our estrangement is old enough to drink) i have no desire to make contact. one of the requirements is a copy of the current ID for the parent you are claiming citizenship through. i asked the kind lady at the consulate here if there was anything i could do to waive that requirement, as my father was a violent man who i was glad to be rid of. i explained as much of the situation as felt comfortable. she was very nice and told me to write a letter explaining the situation in lieu of the ID. i did, and it was accepted. so, yeah, ask questions.
as this country gets more and more repressive, and less and less of us have any idea where to start doing something about that, it's nice to know i have the option to get out and easily live and work anywhere in the EU. i highly recommend the long, hard process. it is worth it for that piece of mind.
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