Now that I had settled into the spare bedroom at my friend's house, it was time to focus on the corporate retreat I had to facilitate in June, the search for more properties in Europe, and planning my next trip.
I had outlined the agenda for my client's retreat when the executive director of the organization asked if I could incorporate Jim Collins' book, Good to Great. I had heard of the book but hadn't read it, and I couldn't tell the client, "no." So, I ordered a copy from Amazon, along with the companion monograph for the social sectors, and went to work. Instead of reading more about Slovenia and northern Italy, I was reading about Hedgehog Concepts and the Stockdale Paradox. It hadn't been in my plans but, then again, what in my life had been for years?
Another thing I hadn't planned on was the massive amount of time it would take me to change my name and address on every legal document and piece of identification I possessed. My divorce decree included the provision that my maiden name be restored. Since the ex and I had no children, there was no reason to keep his surname, although it was an easier name for people to understand and spell than my own. Still, I wanted my name back and the judge granted my request.
I strongly recommend that any woman who takes back her maiden name in a divorce put into the divorce agreement a sum of money to pay for the privilege. I started the process by having to order several certified copies of the divorce decree. That cost me $13. Then, I changed my name on the document from which all else comes -- my Social Security card. Fortunately, our tax dollars pay for that so I didn't have to shell out any cash but I did have to spend some quality time at my local Social Security Administration Office. Next, I changed my name, address and beneficiary on my life insurance policy and on my small state retirement account. One sleepless night, I remembered I needed to change my name and address on the limited-liability company I had registered with the state. I handled that the next day to the tune of $8.
By this time, I had started keeping a list of documents and fees. More than once during the process, I thought how men, who aren't compelled by law, tradition or anything else to change their surnames, have it easier than women.
I held off on two very important items -- my passport and driver's license. I had to fly to New York in the middle of June, followed quickly by a flight back to Europe. I needed to get those flights booked which requires that your name and numbers on your tickets and photo I.D. all jive in a post-9/11 world. I couldn't risk having a problem so I decided to handle this as soon as I returned in July. To obtain a new passport, I would have to send in my current one, new photos ($), the divorce decree, a postage-paid return envelope ($) and, of course, a hefty fee ($). The turnaround time could be as long as six weeks. I could expedite the process to two weeks, but that required an additional fee and I could barely afford the regular cost. It would just have to wait because I was running out of time.
Since my return to the States, I'd been getting used to hearing people call me by my birth name again and asking me how to spell it. In this transitional state, I would hesitate, pen above paper, each time I had to sign something since I still signed a few things under my now-former surname. I don't mean to make it sound like this was a major ordeal. It's comparable to the time it takes to start dating things correctly in January every year. You just stop having to think about it without ever really noticing.
Having my name back wasn't just a legal technicality. It was like putting on a comfortable old pair of shoes I hadn't worn for awhile, and they felt good. It was all worth the time, trouble and legal tender because I found myself starting to feel like my old self again.
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