I'm 97
...as in wait-number, not age. I'm on line at the Secretary of State in Washtenaw County, Michigan. That sounds so impressive, as if I'm taking a meeting with a lofty government official, but it's not really. I'm waiting to take the final steps in changing my identity, getting my new Michigan driver's license with my new name - Judith Segaloff - the final document that officially appoints me a woman with a new name and an official resident of the state of Michigan.
84...85...
The line is moving fast. I've always hated lines, even in New York. I find them demoralizing and insulting. After so many years of blasting through the less tangible lines in my life -- making friends in high places, catepulting my way into circles of influences with a smile, a business card, some fancy words--lines like this one bring you down. They remind you that there are no special priviliges in some arenas--when you are waiting for a driver's license, you're not so special--everybody waits.
86...
Yet I wish this line would slow down to allow me to collect my thoughts. If they only knew how fast they were racing, they'd give me a ticket on the spot!
87...
Stop! I want to shout, "Stop calling those numbers! Just let me be ME--whoever I am at the moment!" Judith Steinberg - born in New Jersey. Judith Lederman - the name I never officially assumed after my first marriage. My babies were born Lederman. My books were bylined Lederman. In business I was known as Lederman. But yesterday I sat and waited on another line - number C145 - and I obliterated another piece of myself - my name. It's something I never did officially for my first husband. "This is huge," I told my new husband. I will now forever be known as Judith Segaloff. Who am I?
88...
Judith Segaloff is a clean slate - an unknown entity. I did a pipl.com deep web search and found--nothing. Judith Segaloff in Michigan until yesterday did not exist. I've been born anew. It's like being in the Witness Protection Program. I'm a complete stranger in a strange land, surrounded by strangers. How will I ever find myself again?
89...
Even though I love my husband with all my heart, and moving to be with him was never so much as a question in my mind, I never anticipated these feelings of complete alienation. Never have I felt so distant and separated from the people who love me and the places that my whole life I have called home.
90...91...
My grandson, my sons, my daughter, my parents, all my friends. Familiar roads, familiar highways, familiar names. The Department of Motor Vehicles - THAT'S the place we go to in New York - we don't visit the Secretary of State. There are so many differences - beyond the miles - between there and here.
92...
Here I'm always getting lost. It feels like I'm constantly traveling in circles, trying to figure out where I am, where I'm supposed to be, how to circumvent huge buildings - part of the sprawling campus of the University of Michigan - law schools, libraries, dental schools, hospitals, museums. Who could have dreamed that getting married would make me feel lost. My poor befuddled brain is screaming, begging for anything that invokes the familiar - a condo complex that reminds me of Crestwood in Yonkers, a pretty neighborhood that looks like Wykagel in New Rochelle, Starbucks, anything that sort of looks like "home." Although to date I've yet to see anything that even remotely reminds me of New York City. I'm lost! How do I find myself?
93...94...
I need warmth and welcoming. Not phony platitudes or people asking me how my day is going in the grocery store. I need my stepson to smile at me - and mean it. I need someone to call me up and ask me to come over for coffee. I need real people to help me figure out who I am - now that I'm no longer Judy Steinberg, born in Newark or Judy Lederman, that marketing consultant from New York.
95...
Why am I here?
96...97...
TIMES UP!
I go to the counter. Papers fly - documents that trace my life from birth through this very moment. Papers that tell other people - not me - who I was, who I am. Judith Segaloff. A new license plate and the nice lady, Cristine, instructs me to stand in front of the camera to take a photo for my new driver's license. "Take off your hat," she directs me. "I'm sorry, I can't," I explain. "I cover my hair for religious reasons. I'm an orthodox Jewish married woman."
"I've never heard of that before," she frowns and goes to her supervisor. A hefty black woman comes over to the counter, and she repeats authoritatively, "You'll have to remove your hat, otherwise they will not process your license." I reiterate that my hair remains covered for religious reasons and I cannot remove my hat. "With all the burkas in nearby Dearborn, you mean to tell me that you make Moslem women remove their headgear for photos?" I ask shrewdly. Both women disappear behind a desk and the telephone lights up. I wait and I stand firm. Sometimes a little New York is a good thing. Five minutes later, the word comes down from the auspicious Secretary of State of Michigan. My hat stays on for the license photo. And in that five minutes I figured out who I am - an orthodox Jewish married woman named Judith Segaloff who is living in Michigan and is here to let people know just who I am.
Go Judy Go! I am amazed at your strength and commitment to your Torah values!
Posted by: esther | October 16, 2010 at 11:56 PM