It's amazing what an abstract world we, humans, have created for ourselves. We were notified via email from a gracious, generous government official that our Powers of Attorney are "notarized, translated, certified, and authenticated." Opening the digital copies she attached, I saw the red ribbons affixed by a metallic seal upon the front page, from the "Ambassade D' Haiti; Washington." Pretty. Darn. Fancy.
In order for a fellow adoptive parent to sign documents in Haiti on our behalf, we needed to prepare Powers of Attorney documents deemed acceptible both by the U.S. government and the Haitian authorities. One for each child. Times 11 children; 7 families.
The aforementioned adoptive father will meet at the Embassy with the birth parents of all of the children, and sign our paperwork in the presence of a Haitian judge and IBESR (the Haitian government agency that oversees adoptions, among other things). When he returns to the States, he will have with him the consentment documents needed to complete full and final adoptions in the courts of our home states. Until two months ago, this was a process we were utterly uncertain how to get accomplished.
And so, Chad and I signed our Power of Attorney in front of one of our beloved high school secretaries, Miss Tina, who is a notary public. Chad took those forms (Anna's and Jameson's) to Springfield to get them certified -- whereby the Secretary of State's Office verifies that the notary public we used was legit.
Then, we emailed a digitial copy to dear friend, Robin, who orchestrated the services for French translations, for which the translator had to sign in front of his/her own local notary public that the translation was valid and true.
English version (notarized and certified) along with the French translation (w/ validity statement notarized) were taken through the US Office of the Secretary of State by our contact at ORR (Office of Refugee Resettlement; see "gracious, generous government official" noted above) to be further certified . . . indication that the State of Illinois certification is legit.
Finally, all of that was taken to the Haitian Embassy in Washington DC for authentication -- the red ribbon and shiny metal sticker seal. Beneath that fancy page 1 entitled "Certificat de Legalisation" is a page stamped or digitized with Hillary Rodham Clinton's signature, same on the following page by Jesse White (IL Sec. of State), and then the completely pedestrian pages with Chad and my scrawl.
To receive that email proclaiming this phase of documents complete, I felt a sense of accomplishment, a feeling of progress. Something official. And done.
Then, my own feelings struck me as humorous -- this is all for the purpose of allowing a chosen person to sign papers for us. A Power of Attorney. A fancy trail of pages and computers and emails and mailings and fees so that we can . . . do more papers.
It's like when Anna asked me how there is "money in the card" (credit card), and I explained that the card sends a message to the computer that "Sherry Cluver" is the one buying the stuff and that the computer then sends a message to the "card company" so they know how much money I've spent. I continued to tell her that one time a month the "card company" sends a bill to me in the mail and that I have to pay them, and that it's always really smart to pay the whole amount or else you waste a lot of money (mini econ lesson). She asked, "Do you put money in an envelope?" Easy enough to answer, right? So, I started with "No, I write a check and that tells their computer . . . "
Did the Sumerians know what they'd begun when they took stylus to clay?
In order for a fellow adoptive parent to sign documents in Haiti on our behalf, we needed to prepare Powers of Attorney documents deemed acceptible both by the U.S. government and the Haitian authorities. One for each child. Times 11 children; 7 families.
The aforementioned adoptive father will meet at the Embassy with the birth parents of all of the children, and sign our paperwork in the presence of a Haitian judge and IBESR (the Haitian government agency that oversees adoptions, among other things). When he returns to the States, he will have with him the consentment documents needed to complete full and final adoptions in the courts of our home states. Until two months ago, this was a process we were utterly uncertain how to get accomplished.
And so, Chad and I signed our Power of Attorney in front of one of our beloved high school secretaries, Miss Tina, who is a notary public. Chad took those forms (Anna's and Jameson's) to Springfield to get them certified -- whereby the Secretary of State's Office verifies that the notary public we used was legit.
Then, we emailed a digitial copy to dear friend, Robin, who orchestrated the services for French translations, for which the translator had to sign in front of his/her own local notary public that the translation was valid and true.
English version (notarized and certified) along with the French translation (w/ validity statement notarized) were taken through the US Office of the Secretary of State by our contact at ORR (Office of Refugee Resettlement; see "gracious, generous government official" noted above) to be further certified . . . indication that the State of Illinois certification is legit.
Finally, all of that was taken to the Haitian Embassy in Washington DC for authentication -- the red ribbon and shiny metal sticker seal. Beneath that fancy page 1 entitled "Certificat de Legalisation" is a page stamped or digitized with Hillary Rodham Clinton's signature, same on the following page by Jesse White (IL Sec. of State), and then the completely pedestrian pages with Chad and my scrawl.
To receive that email proclaiming this phase of documents complete, I felt a sense of accomplishment, a feeling of progress. Something official. And done.
Then, my own feelings struck me as humorous -- this is all for the purpose of allowing a chosen person to sign papers for us. A Power of Attorney. A fancy trail of pages and computers and emails and mailings and fees so that we can . . . do more papers.
It's like when Anna asked me how there is "money in the card" (credit card), and I explained that the card sends a message to the computer that "Sherry Cluver" is the one buying the stuff and that the computer then sends a message to the "card company" so they know how much money I've spent. I continued to tell her that one time a month the "card company" sends a bill to me in the mail and that I have to pay them, and that it's always really smart to pay the whole amount or else you waste a lot of money (mini econ lesson). She asked, "Do you put money in an envelope?" Easy enough to answer, right? So, I started with "No, I write a check and that tells their computer . . . "
Did the Sumerians know what they'd begun when they took stylus to clay?
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