Today at 7:00 AM
So, President Trump is putting his portrait on American passports now, according to media reports. Sorry Donald J., I beat you to it. I have my picture on one passport — mine. And like every picture of me ever taken, it’s not very good. Cameras hate me
Traffic cops recoil in horror as they look at my driver’s license photo when I get picked up for speeding or other crimes and misdemeanors. But let’s move on
I have had several interesting experiences with my passport over the years, including the first time I applied for it, a process I described here many years ago but bears repeating — just for laughs
We were planning our first trip to Europe so I went to the Duluth Post Office to go through the passport paces. Yes, they have paces
Most importantly, you must prove that you are who you say you are. At the time they seemed to prefer birth certificates, so I had to go to the St. Louis County Courthouse here in Duluth to get mine
So up to the Civic Center courthouse I dashed, found my way to the proper desk and asked for a copy of my birth certificate. No problem; the friendly clerk located it and made a copy. But looking it over, my birth was registered without my first name. It said Baby Boy Heffernan
I had always thought my parents, should they get a boy, were going to name me James the whole time they were expecting me. It’s an old family given name, including that of my paternal grandfather. It’s in the Bible. It’s the NAME of the English version of the Bible
Nope, “Baby Boy Heffernan” on my birth certificate
That’s in the Bible too, in Bethlehem, but not good enough for the passport people, although it could come in handy at the Pearly Gates. I had to prove I was me in some other way, they told me. Old school report cards would be okay, they suggested
Well, I dug some up in the family archives. I found a couple from my elementary school years at Lincoln School in what was then called the West End
I brought the report card to the passport police and it was sufficient to qualify me for a United States passport, although it was humiliating at the same time. On the old report card, in notes to my parents, the teacher had written that I was a “dreamer” and stared out the window when I should have been buckling down. No wonder I never mastered the multiplication table
Still, I qualified for the passport in spite of being a dreamer, and off we went to Europe a while later on a trip to see it
Lifestyle
Jim Heffernan column: Happy b-day, America. Let’s not blow it (up)
America was only 163 years old when I was born in Duluth.
Lifestyle
Jim Heffernan column: Pope Leo ‘off to a good start,’ says old Lutheran
The author looks at popes of years past, and how they are remembered.
Jun 6
Columns
Jim Heffernan: Buying gas used to come with limits
From the column: “No driver ever filled his or her own tank at a service station. Most drivers wouldn’t know how.”
May 26
Lifestyle
Jim Heffernan column: Parking meter loss leads to very bad dream
The author speculates on the future of downtown parking for those who aren’t so handy with cellphone operations.
May 2
Most of the border stops were routine, with officials in uniform glancing at the passport, stamping it and signaling to move on. I have been to Europe a few more times since then, always with my passport in my pocket and experiencing different reactions in different countries
Border agents in St. Petersburg, Russia, seemed awfully stern. I must look like a spy, too
After all of that travel across the pond, my most challenging experience with my passport was on a trip to Canada a few years ago — before the recent difficulties between the U.S. and Canada
We had shot up to International Falls on a brief car trip and decided to go over to Fort Frances, Ontario
We had brought our passports for the trip to cross an international border and routinely passed into Canada. It was on the way back to Minnesota that we encountered the most difficult border crossing I had ever experienced, including in Russia and other European destinations
Rolling back into Minnesota, U.S. border agents ordered us out of the car as we proffered our passports. Then they ordered us to open the car’s trunk so they could inspect our luggage
Finding nothing suspicious, they let us back into our home state., a state we had lived in all our lives
Maybe if we’d had Trump’s picture on the passport, we’d have fared better. Trouble is, he wasn’t president at the time, so it was Biden’s fault. Hmm … that has a familiar ring to it
By
Jim Heffernan
Jim Heffernan is a former Duluth News Tribune news and opinion writer and columnist. He maintains a blog at jimheffernan.org and can be reached by email at jimheffernan@jimheffernan.org.
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