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The Sunday Post VI

Or something neat about getting my passport.

Most everyone knows that to actually get a passport, you need to provide two pieces of identification, one of them being an official stamped certified copy of your birth certificate.

For most of you, this is a single page document that shows your date and time of birth, your mother and father and other information.

One thing that most of you don’t know is the difference between my Dad and my father. He was a bit of a fuck up from what I have heard. Dad came around when I was 5 and that was that. Well, it wasn’t quite that easy, but that is best left to many many more posts or therapists sessions, if I decided I needed to do that kind of thing.

Sometime in the late 70’s the idea was hatched that Dad would actually adopted my sister and I. After some struggle and realizing what a huge expensive pain in the ass that would be, they instead decided to go for the official name change instead. Without digging that document out of the super safe firebox that is currently hiding someplace in my house, I’m going to say that the process started around 1980 or so. It was difficult for my parents to do because even that was a bit pricey (we didn’t have a whole lot when I was growing up, including money) and very time consuming.

So it happened. From what I can tell, it took about 7 months to complete and now, my birth certificate has 2 pages. 1 to prove that I was born (watch the jokes) and the other to show the name change.

A few weeks ago I was reminded of that when I actually got my birth certificate. It was nice to remember that and to see Dad’s name actually attached to it, dated the day I actually became a Burnside.

At the time, I don’t remember it being that big of a deal. But now that I look back on it some 20 years after the fact, I am reminded of the fact that my parents are pretty awesome and I was pretty lucky to end up with a great Dad.

For those that don’t understand the difference, I remember this from a hallmark card I saw once.

Anyone can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a Dad
Posted in The Sunday Post, observations, personal — by db on 04/29/07


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