REPENT

On our way back from our visit to my mother, we waited behind that car at a border patrol checkpoint. "REPENT" suggested the bumper. Repent what, I wondered.

My niece was nervous about being in the driver's seat as we crossed the inland border, an hour by car away from Mexico and most decidedly inside the U.S. She had never had to take the lead in dealing with this kind of thing. She asked me of the border patrol officers, "Can they search the car?" I explained that the car could be searched if they had a suspicion that we were illegal aliens or that we had drugs on us. I thought about expounding on that thought, telling her the guidelines and limits for legal searches. But I didn't, partly because she seemed more focused on what was happening at that moment and partly because I'm not sure, after eight years of watching the Bush administration determinedly rip the guts out of the U.S. Constitution, that I even know what the law is anymore.

"Do I have to say 'U.S. citizen,' Auntie?" my niece asked me. I said, "No. You don't have to."

She said, "I think I'll just say, 'hi,' then."

I laughed. "That's good, too," I said.

After several more minutes (the car two cars in front of us had to show green cards to the border patrol officers and that took a long time), it was our turn. My niece turned down the radio and rolled down her window and said "hi" to the officer. He asked us if we could state our citizenship for him, please, and we did. He looked in the back of the car at The Newbie who was strapped into her car seat. She waved her rattle at him. He asked us where we were headed and we told him and he said to have a safe trip and my niece thanked him and we drove on.