identifying

I LOST MY WALLET in the bowels of a friend's couch recently. I didn't miss it until the next morning, and when I called they couldn't find it. "No big deal," I thought, "I don't need to buy anything too pressing. I'll be fine until they are able to dig it out." I didn't even think about my drivers license. I went to visit a friend in jail - turns out you need photo ID. Fortunately my office wasn't far, and I was able to pick up my passport. The officer behind the glass looked at me like I'd handed her a copy of the Magna Carta. It didn't get better when she flipped it open. I got my passport when my hair was the longest it has ever been. Literally - I got it cut the next day. She stared at the photo. She stared at me. Finally, she handed it back to me and told me to sign in. A couple of days later I went to the grocery store, my checkbook in tow. I filled my cart and headed toward the checkout. I unloaded my cart onto the belt, and the cashier started scanning items. "$48.73" I pulled out my checkbook and started writing the check. I handed it to her. "Can I see some ID?" I felt like a criminal, my palms sweating, tightly gripping MY checkbook. "Um..." I stumbled, "I actually don't have my wallet with me." Now the cashier was looking at me like I WAS a criminal. "I can't take a check without ID," she said curtly. Why hadn't I brought my passport to the grocery store?

"Could you please make an exception?" Finally, after another minute or two of back and forth about the impossibility of what I was asking, I left with my groceries. The next day, still wallet-less, I went to the bank. Sometimes, because I go often enough, they don't ask to see ID, especially if I'm making a deposit. I was, but I was also intending to get 20 bucks in cash. Crossing my fingers, I approached the teller. She took my slip and the check and set about her business of key-punching. So far so good. She popped the drawer open and picked up a $20 bill. Whew. "And I'll just need to see some ID," she said with a bouncy kind of smile. My heart sank. I decided to be completely honest. She got the whole story - the couch, my un-sleuth-like friends, my passport, the less than congenial cashier. "I suppose it's only $20 dollars," she said. "Hopefully I won't lose my job over this," she followed up, and handed me the cash. Thankfully the next day my friend Nate brought me my wallet (he is very sleuth-ful), but my time sans ID was revelatory. It helped me to better understand the experience and struggle of my undocumented friends and neighbors. Friends and neighbors who, despite having jobs vital to our economy, and homes and friends and family, find themselves stuck on basic things. Grocery shopping, banking, visiting friends. It's hard without papers, and navigating the system to get them is more difficult than digging a wallet from the depths of a couch, even with sleuth-ful help. ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••