Celebrating citizenship

Jan. 15 is a federal holiday in America, for me and my family a historical one. On this day in 1975 I was sworn in as a New Citizen of America.

The voices of the crowd echoed from the concrete walls and from the high ceiling of the huge hallway. People were milling around bundled up in heavy dark coats, colorful scarves and hats bringing life to the drab colors of overcoats. 

The icy cold wind had practically blown us inside City Hall. My husband stood by my side, our son Jean-Paul (6) and daughter Vanessa (3) in front of us. It was a historical day for me and for my family, Jan. 15, 1975, Martin Luther King Jr. Day. 

It is a Federal holiday and our children’s schools were closed. This day is being observed every year, but this particular one was going to be special. I was going to be sworn in as a new citizen of America. We moved forward and entered another hall. 

The walls displayed paintings and framed photographs of former presidents all the way back to George Washington, the forefather of the country. I found myself in a hall of fame, how intimidating. 

A loud voice asked the crowd to move on. “How do you feel?” my husband inquired looking at me. I felt uneasy, butterflies in my stomach. Until this time I hadn’t thought that much about my reaction to such a day, a day where I was going to surrender my German citizenship. 

The feeling of insecurity crept up inside me. What was I going to do without my Passport? I wouldn’t have any ID, nothing. I can’t describe my feelings as I held onto my husband for security. I was to  become  another American citizen just like so many others before me joining the melting pot that makes up America. 

Here we were now in City Hall. It made me feel very small and insignificant by formality among all these uniformed officials and guards. We had to separate as I reached the entrance to the auditorium. I was to show my green German passport and to state that from that day on I would follow the law of the land and not obey “another prince.” 

Then I had to deposit my passport into a box to join all the other foreign passports that had to be left behind. I felt stripped, and suddenly I felt I belonged nowhere, to no country. A passport is the most important document one has. Now I had none. 

I became more and more uneasy, helpless and scared. Where was my husband? He would bale me out if necessary, I thought. My eyes searched for and found my family in the center of the auditorium where guests were seated. 

The room looked very festive, with raised flags everywhere, the walls covered with wood panels, and smart-looking guards walking up and down aisle as if to protect us from something. We sat on long wooden benches. How many new citizen have sat on these same benches reciting “I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America” with the right hand on the heart? 

I was overtaken by emotion—people congratulating each other and smiling, my husband hugging me and holding my hand. He showed a big smile and tried to explain to the children what was happening. After all this talking about what was expected of a new citizen and the realization that I no longer had a passport made me feel faint. 

With all my traveling with TWA in-and-out of the country I never felt like a foreigner. Airports have a special line for flight crew members, and I never felt out of order. We all would check quickly through the security.

My family and I bundled up before leaving. I was a new citizen now. I was an American. What a thought. I always believed in being a citizen of the world, just carrying a passport as an ID—any passport, for that matter. Now I belonged to a big, powerful country. I felt so dizzy that my husband had to support me.

Anneros Valensi is a Riverdale resident. Point of View is a column open to all.