I talked to my father for two years about my desire to move to Canada. Finally, when I was 17, I just said, “Dad, I’m sorry; I can’t stay here. I’m not going to live like this.” I loaded my two horses in my horse trailer and went to Canada.
At first I was rejected because I was underage. However, I got to the border and they asked me where I was going. I said, “I’m going to Canada; I’m going to homestead.”
They asked, “How old are you? Where’s your passport? Where’s your birth certificate? Where’s all this information?”
I replied, “Nobody told me I needed to bring it.”
So they let me go into Canada, but not as an immigrant; I went through as a visitor and went to the Caribou District. It was great. It was beautiful. And I got a job.
Then I got a notice that I had to either go back to the States or I could immigrate. I went to the immigration office, as a 17 year old, and asked, “Well, how do I immigrate?”
I was told, “You can’t; you’re underage. You’ve got to have a family member sponsor you.”
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