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Foreigners run to red, white and blue
© St. Petersburg Times Although her husband is American and she lives in Florida, Canadian-born Violet Vitale never got around to applying for U.S. citizenship. She always seemed too busy -- first, with family and career, then an active retirement life. Then came Sept. 11. As the World Trade Center vanished, Vitale, 69, felt a surge of patriotism for her adopted home. And it increased in the following weeks as she watched Americans console one another, listened to countless renditions of the Star-Spangled Banner and marveled at the red, white and blue popping up everywhere. "I thought, "This is really something.' It seemed to bring Americans closer together and here I'm not even American." So Vitale decided to do what she had put off for nearly two decades. On Dec. 31, she mailed her paperwork to become a naturalized U.S. citizen. And in doing so, she joined a surprisingly big group. Since Sept. 11, the number of citizenship applications has soared. In November alone, the Immigration and Naturalization Service received 88,808 applications nationwide, double the number from the previous November. Despite all of the anti-American rhetoric in recent months, it seems a lot of foreigners still regard the United States as a place of unparalleled freedom and opportunity. "I think people in these types of circumstances tend to understand the benefits of being a United States citizen," says Russ Bergeron, an INS spokesman. "When you have a tragedy like Sept. 11, it tends to illustrate that there is a significant legal difference between those who are citizens and those who are not." Noncitizens do not have the right to vote. They can be deported for certain felonies, even if they are legal permanent residents who hold "green cards." And, given heightened security concerns since September, noncitizens also face a greater chance of being detained and more of a hassle in getting a driver's license or identification card. At least 13 of the 19 hijackers had Florida licenses or IDs. "People are a little nervous," says Robert Krug, a Tampa immigration lawyer who has seen a 10 to 15 percent jump in citizenship applications in his own practice. "People who may have been here awhile are getting nervous that all foreigners are going to be kicked out of the United States." John Ovink, another Tampa lawyer, says that in the last month he has handled citizenship applications for two Egyptians, a Moroccan and four Palestinians, including a husband and wife who run a Dade City gas station. "There's a general fear that we don't know what's going to happen, that we're next," Ovink says. Ramon Carrion, a Clearwater immigration lawyer, says that many of his clients who have recently applied for citizenship are worried about getting or renewing driver's licenses. To make it harder for potential terrorists to obtain identification, noncitizens in Florida and most other states are now required to show a green card or other proof that they are in this country legally. "There is an undercurrent on the street that if you're not a citizen, they're going to rip up your driver's license," Carrion says. The Sept. 11 attacks also seem to have spurred noncitizens who previously put off naturalization because they dreaded the process. "People have a tendency to think of the INS as nothing short of an administrative torture chamber," Carrion says. Pragmatic reasons aside, some foreigners say they want to become citizens simply because they feel it's a way of showing support for the nation they now regard as home. Since the attacks, "I have felt part of this country, more so than before," says Harris Redona, 33, a native of the Philippines who lives in Oldsmar and works as a computer programmer for Home Shopping Network. "I have a little flag of the United States in my car and things like that. It gave me more reason to want to be a U.S. citizen." For Violet Vitale, a retired mortgage broker, Sept. 11 was the impetus to do what her husband had long urged. "He's been after me for years to apply for citizenship," she says, as they relax in the airy sunroom of their lakefront St. Petersburg townhouse. "He got tired of saying he was married to a nickel immigrant." Vitale was born in Windsor, Ontario, once just a 5-cent ride across the Ambassador Bridge from Detroit. (The toll is now $2.50.) She retained her Canadian citizenship even after she married, all through the years they lived in Dearborn, Mich., where Larry Vitale ran a car dealership, and Florida, where in 1983 she got a job offer she couldn't turn down. On Sept. 11, the Vitales were back in Ontario visiting relatives when their son called from work and told them to turn on the TV. Like millions of others, Vitale couldn't believe what she was seeing. "As a child I remember movies about World War II and this was like that. I thought the United States was being attacked. I had goose bumps." In Canada, the shock was almost as great as it was in the United States, with Canadian TV and radio providing nonstop coverage, congregations praying for America, and Canadians phoning U.S. friends and relatives to offer condolences. But Vitale was most surprised by the change at what both countries had proudly called "the world's longest undefended border." "That was a shock to me because I had crossed that border since I was a little girl and never did I see armed guards and soldiers. This is a big change and I'm afraid it's something we're going to see for a long time coming." A few weeks later, the Vitales drove home to Florida and were greeted by a happier sight -- dozens of little American flags rimming their cul-de-sac, placed there by neighbors. The Vitales hung a small flag on their front door, under the "God Bless Our Home" plaque, and Violet Vitale made a decision. "I finally realized this was an important time of my life," she says. "I wanted more than anything to really be American." Since Vitale already had a green card, a prerequisite to becoming a U.S. citizen, she thought the process would be fairly quick and easy. That notion evaporated as she spent two days trying to get through to the INS information line, which constantly rang busy. And when the application packet arrived 15 days later, she discovered the instructions were missing. "Everything said, "refer to page 3' or "refer to page 9' in the instruction book," Vitale says. "Modern technology took me to the computer, where I was able to print the instructions out." On New Year's Eve, Vitale mailed her application for naturalization, including a reference from her pastor and a list of her many volunteer and social activities. It could be a long wait -- while it used to take about a year to process an application, Vitale received a letter last week that "you should expect to be notified in 730 days." "That's two years! When this letter came I thought, "Uh, oh, they're really busy.' " For the time being, Vitale remains a noncitizen, waiting like tens of thousands of others for that coveted piece of paper. Is she concerned about how other noncitizens have been treated since Sept. 11, especially those of Middle Eastern descent? "It reminds me of when we were very young and the governments of the U.S. and Canada came after Italian people and put them in (internment) camps," says Vitale, who is of Italian heritage. "They didn't do anything -- it was just because the U.S. and Canada were at war with Italy. My family had a very good friend who went to a camp because they thought he was a fascist. It was a terrible time but nothing like today. I feel sorry for Arab-American people, it's tough for them, but the country has to be on guard, doesn't it?" -- Susan Taylor Martin can be reached at susan@sptimes.com.
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