PERSPECTIVE FROM THE 19^TH HOLE: This is the title I chose for my personal blog, which is meant to give me an outlet for one of my favorite crafts – writing – plus use an image from my favorite sport, golf. Out of college, my first job was as a reporter for the Daily Astorian in Astoria, Oregon, and I went on from there to practice writing in all of my professional positions, including as a Congressional press secretary in Washington, D.C., an Oregon state government manager in Salem and Portland, press secretary for Oregon’s last Republican governor (Vic Atiyeh), and a private sector lobbyist. This blog also allows me to link another favorite pastime – politics and the art of developing public policy – to what I write.

I had a new experience today.

My wife and I traveled from our winter home in La Quinta, California, to Calexico, a town in California on the border with Mexico about 100 miles away from La Quinta.

It is a port of entry to the United States for potential immigrants from Mexico.

Why were we there?

Well, it was the most convenient and quick place to be interviewed pursuant to our application for what’s called “Global Entry,” a process much like what exists in the U.S. under the TSA Pre-Check program.

If you have Global Entry, the certificate will make it easier to return to the U.S. from, say, Europe, and to get through customs more quickly and easily. That matters to us because, with my wife as the best tour guide ever, we are planning a couple European trips.

To be interviewed to follow-up on our on-line Global Entry applications, we had to go to a place where there are customs agents, which often means an international airport. In this case, we could have headed West to Los Angeles, thereby fighting heavy traffic, but it struck us as a better option to head Southeast to Calexico.

One of the questions you may ask is whether we saw “Trump’s Wall.” No. But, if he would have found a way to get what he considers to be “his money,” we no doubt would have seen it.

Our travels took us through verdant farmland and watched the harvest of all kinds of vegetables. To think how the farmers get water, including from the Salton Sea, requires a solid imagination in hot weather that, in the summer, can reach as high as high as 120 degrees.

Beyond that, here are a few general perceptions about this first-time process for us:

• Though you don’t see it until you are almost there, the facility is an imposing one. Those who want to enter the U.S. come through guarded gates and have to pass inspections from customs agents. From the other side, our side, my first impression was that you were entering a prison.
• However, what was interesting to us was, as we entered to find the location for our Global Entry interview, we were not checked for anything. No wand over our bodies. No gate to go through. No bags to be checked.
• When we found the location for our interview, we had thought we would be ushered into a room to undergo the third degree. No. A polite customs official called us up to his post one-by-one and we stood to be interviewed for only a short period of time.
• In advance, solid planner that she is, my wife made copies of lots of stuff – our tax records, our investment records, and our identification (including drivers’ licenses and passports). We were supposed to have our birth certificates, but we have no idea where they are. Same is true of our marriage license. That may be home in Salem, Oregon, but we are not sure where.
• The agent complimented us on our preparation – no problem without the marriage license and birth certificates — and it didn’t take long for him to complete the process for each of us, which included both a photo and fingerprints.
• If all goes as planned – and we were led to believe it will – we should have our Global Entry certificates within two weeks.
• As we drove back Northwest toward La Quinta, we had to pass a border patrol facility on the highway. It took only a few seconds to be ushered through by the border agent because, I guess, we were white and didn’t look like immigrants – at least not at the moment, though all of our parents and/or grandparents on both sides are immigrants, though not from Mexico…from Europe. [But that – the U.S. immigration policy – is a topic for another blog.]
• We did find ourselves wondering how a border patrol agent, as courteous as he was to us, could get away with profiling, if that is, in fact, what was he was doing.
• Speaking of border patrol checkpoints, on our trip to Colexico, we passed another one heading North and West. There had to be three miles of cars and trucks waiting to pass. We had no idea why. Perhaps someone was looking for illegals.

All in all, today was a good experience for us and I got as close to Mexico, seeing it on the horizon, as I have been in my life. Close enough I say.