(AP) — PAYETTE, Idaho (AP) ? Catherine Carlson threads through the discount store, her hiking boots clopping against the linoleum. She is numb to the shoppers who glance curiously as she plucks a pair of long underwear from a sales rack.
Cold sneaks through the walls of her trailer home, but this is the only remedy she can afford. At checkout, Catherine writes a $15 check. The clerk with the "Deb G" name tag examines the signature and runs her eyes over Catherine ? the side-swept, faded blond hair, large knuckles, blue jeans and plaid work shirt.
Under the harsh fluorescent lights of the Bi-Mart, Catherine's narrow face is mapped with fine lines and abandoned by cosmetics. She ignores the unwelcome survey of her appearance.
Catherine, 52, leaves the cocoon of her trailer about once every 10 days. Payette, a tiny community of farmers and ranchers in southwestern Idaho, did not know she existed until a year ago when she decided she could no longer hide.
On that day last winter, she climbed into her silver 1993 Plymouth Voyager and drove down Main Street to pick up a friend whose car had broken down. A police officer pulled her over and found that her driver's license was suspended. He wrote her a ticket.
Catherine stared at the citation. It was issued to both her and to Daniel Carlson.
Nearly three decades ago, she underwent surgery to become a woman and took legal steps to remove her male name from public records. The ticket triggered memories of a man who, as far as she was concerned, no longer existed.
In her mind it was clear: She would have to fight to be Catherine.
And so, she mounted an impossible campaign to erase her former life, a yearlong battle against every slight and indignity ? real or perceived.
Catherine would not accept that the past, no matter how painful and imperfect, is always with us, no matter how we might try to escape it.
source: http://www.mlive.com/
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