The Making of A Citizen

 

From Uncle Vellanoff's Journal

 

 

After I had been in the United States for several years I decided that I wanted to become a citizen of this great country. I studied for several months and then went before a judge in a small town in Arkansas. This magistrate looked at my paperwork and then said, “I have several questions to ask you and if you can give me the correct answers to most of them I will grant you citizenship. He dug around in his desk and came up with a sheet of paper which I guessed contained the questions in question. He started:

“In which battle did Napoleon die?”

I answered, “His last one.”

The judge continued, “Where was the Declaration of Independence signed?”

My response, “At the bottom.”

The judge looked at me, then studied the sheet, turned it over to see if anything was written on the back, and then, finding nothing there, turned it back over and asked, “The River Ravi flows in which state?” That one was easy, I said, “Liquid.”

He stared at me a long time then with a sigh continued. “What is the main reason for divorce?

My response, “Marriage.”

He said with some heat, “Do you really think that is the right answer?” I asked him, “Is that answer wrong?” He looked at the paper for some time and finally said with some reluctance, “Well, I can’t say that it is.”

He read the next one, “What is the main reason for failure?”

My answer, “Exams.”

He read the next question to himself and smiled. “How can you lift an elephant with one hand?”

I thought a second and said, “You’ll never find an elephant that has only one hand.”

He slammed the test paper down on his desk and jumped up sputtering an oath. Then he stopped, shook himself and once he had regained his composure slowly sat back down while scowling at me.

“If it took eight men ten hours to build a wall, how long would it take five men to build it?” “No time at all, the wall is already built.”

The judged looked down the remaining questions and mumbled, “I’ll just ask one more.” “How can you drop a raw egg onto a concrete floor without cracking it?”

“Any way you want, concrete floors are very hard to crack.”

The man put his head on his desk and cried. After a bit he looked at me, reached for a citizenship certificate, and signed it after putting my name in the appropriate place.

He said, “You’re the first person who didn’t answer one question right, but neither can I say you answered any wrong. You are now a citizen and God help us all.”

The next day as we passed his office we saw a sign on the door that said, “Gone fishing. Don’t expect me back.”