Enrollment at Birth Explained and Repudiated, Part II

Beginning where we left off in Part I, I offer this second part without further ado.

In the days and weeks immediately following our arrival back home with the newest addition to the family, we began to receive notices by mail from the Oklahoma governor’s office that were *not overtly threatening*, but subtly so for sure. For whatever reason I can’t explain, I had not anticipated this further development, but it came nonetheless. I don’t recall the exact number of these official notices we received when all was said and done, but it was no fewer than a half a dozen separate ones, at least a couple of which were sent and received twice, over a span of perhaps two weeks.

With exception of the ones that came twice, I simply ignored these “friendly reminders,” and promptly threw them in the trash, where they belonged. The remainder that weren’t thrown in the trash were “returned to sender,” bearing hand-written messages “to whom it may concern” scribbled on them at appropriate places. Messages like, ‘My children do not belong to the State of Oklahoma,’ and, ‘Mind your business and we’ll mind ours.’ That sort of thing. These were in answer to assertions such as, “Oklahoma loves all of her children,” and “it is vitally important that you enroll the new baby in Social Security as soon as possible,” with reasons given.

Nothing further came of any of this once I’d returned the cards to sender, just to be clear. The lesson to be gleaned here, however, is just how far low-level government apparatchiks will take things when their training and temperaments combine to inform them it is a huge red flag indicating neglect if or when a parent persists in refusing to authorize transfer of her authority to enroll her child in Social Security (whenever, by God, she gets ready to!), to the government apparatchiks in question. This is, after all, the birth mother’s prerogative; otherwise, she would not have the option of answering “yes” or “no” on the form.

In any case, were this the end of the story, I would have included all of the above in Part I and have submitted it to our editor as a single article. Which of course means there’s more to the story below the fold.

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Most of you know by now that my wife and I are the proud and blessed parents of eight (8) healthy, well-adjusted children. A fact which, surprisingly enough for virtually all excluding German Confederate, would have earned my wife a gold medallion under Hitler’s regime, but only earns her a great deal of contempt from upwards of three-fifths (⅗) of the current populace occupying “the land of the free, and home of the brave.” Not that either of us cares a whit about any of that, but I leave it to you to draw your own conclusions from the comparison/contrast. The main point is, whereas everything heretofore written in these missives involves the birth of our seventh (7th) child, that which immediately follows involves the birth of our eighth (8th).

With the birth of our eighth (in the same hospital a year and a half later) my wife and I determined to test the whole procedure a second time. I’m happy to report that, in that latter case, my wife’s “no” answer on the form was accepted and processed, without further ado. Well, almost.

There is, in fact, a humorous aspect of this happy story as well. Namely that, a hospital staffer brought the completed form back to my wife for purposes of confirming that her answer(s) on the form had not been inadvertently made in error. My wife confirmed that “No” had been her intended answer in fact, whereupon another staffer in the room threw his hands up and exclaimed, “I ain’t touchin’ this one with a ten-foot pole!” The other one quickly blurted out, “me either!” The first one then turned to me and began to explain that:

“There was a similar situation a couple of years ago, and we almost got into a lot of hot water over it!” The smirk that came on my face as he was telling me this gave us away, whereupon he instantly made the connection and exclaimed, “Wait!, y’all are that family!” To which I simply answered, “Yep.” Handshakes, hugs, and congratulations quickly ensued all around. No harm, no foul, and all that.

Later, another staffer, in business dress and toting a clipboard, came into the room. This person was a young twenty-something, fresh out of college, no nonsense, all business, “career woman” type. My wife happened to have been in the restroom when she came, so she politely asked if I was the father. I jokingly answered that I was “as far as I know.” Remaining businesslike and polite, she then asked if I would be willing to answer questions pertaining to the baby in my wife’s stead. I answered her question with a question, to wit: “To your knowledge, has she authorized that I speak to you on her behalf? Because she hasn’t to mine.” To this, she said she had other rounds to make, and would be back in half an hour or so, politely excusing herself from the room.

She came back more like an hour later. My wife was then back in her bed and available to speak to her directly. She introduced herself to my wife, explaining what she was there for. Her business was to get the new baby enrolled in SoonerCare, a.s.a.p. My wife promptly told her she would have to discuss it with me. I indicated I was now willing to discuss it with her, only because my wife authorized I do so in the presence of us both.

Now, understand that I had no intention whatsoever of enrolling the baby into SoonerCare, but I played along and answered her questions because I saw this as a good teaching and learning opportunity. Here is a shortened version of how the conversation went before it abruptly ended:

Staffer: “How many *living* children do you have?

Me: “Eight.”

Staffer: “All still living, and living with you?”

Me: “Yes, all still living, one is grown and lives on his own.”

Staffer: “How many are on SoonerCare?”

Me: “None.”

Staffer: (momentary pause to gather her thoughts) “You’re saying you have eight living children, and not one of them is on SoonerCare?!”

Me: “Yes, that is what I’m saying. Not one of them has ever been on SoonerCare, in point of fact.”

Staffer: “Can you give me the names, ages, and Social Security numbers of the ones still at home?”

Me: “I can give you their names and ages.”

Staffer: “But not their Social Security numbers?”

Me: “No.”

Staffer: “May I ask why not?”

Me: “Sure, you can ask. May I ask what you need their Social Security numbers for?”

Staffer: “I have to have them to make sure you qualify for SoonerCare.”

Me: “We’re not seeking assistance from SoonerCare. You came to us.”

Staffer: (longer pause) “Well, sir, I must tell you that, although I don’t have children of my own yet, I do know that children can get sick and need medical attention.”

Me: “As the father of eight children, I can tell you that, not only can they get sick, and/or hurt, they in fact do get sick, and/or hurt. Sometimes seriously. And, yes, in such cases they must have medical attention. I’m not sure I’m understanding what you’re getting at.”

Staffer: (contemptuous look) “So, you’re not going to let me help you get the baby on SoonerCare?”

Me: “No. It’s not helping me or anyone else to enroll the baby in SoonerCare, so I have no intention of doing so unless something changes down the road. In which case, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Staffer: (stunned silence) leaves the room in a huff.

My wife: “You’re so mean!”

[End of story]

There is a larger point and conclusion to be had from all of this that I will discuss in Part III. Stay tuned.