Participating in the U.S. Census...

For the first time that I can remember, I did my civic duty yesterday and participated in the U.S. Census.
My family’s census packet arrived in the mail a couple of days ago, and I took a few minutes last night to fill out the questionnaire that was included.
How could I not?
The capitalized, bold-faced words on the front of the envelope said “YOUR RESPONSE IS REQUIRED BY LAW.” While I’ve never heard of anyone being arrested or sent to prison for blowing off the census, I figured that I had better not mess around. After all, the warning was in boldface type.
I was 24 and living in Montgomery the last time a census was conducted, but I don’t remember participating. As far as I know that would have been the only time that I would have had an opportunity to take part in the census, aside from being counted in my parents’ household when I was 14 and age 4.
According to the enclosed letter of instructions, your census answers are confidential.
“This means the census bureau cannot give out information that identifies you or your household,” the letter said. “Your answers will only be used for statistical purposes, and no other purpose.”
It goes on to say that “the answers you give on the census form cannot be obtained by law enforcement or tax collection agencies. Your answers cannot be used in court. They cannot be obtained with a Freedom of Information Act request.”
At this point in the process, I can’t help but roll my eyes and mutter “Yeah, right” under my breath. They ask you to denote the name, sex, age, birth date and race of every person living in your house, and I can’t beat back that little sliver of paranoia that whispers to me that all of that information about me, the wife and kids is being recorded by some “Big Computer in the Sky.”
Then again, maybe I’ve seen too many old, episodes of the X-Files. I figure that by the time I hear the black helicopters landing in my back yard it’ll be too late anyway.
The letter from the Census Bureau goes on to say that census data does become public after 72 years, so that the information can be used for family history and other types of historical research. This reason alone, in my book, is reason enough to send the form back.
I imagine some descendant of mine, a person I’ll never meet, maybe my son’s grandson, using the information to learn more about my family and the brief window of time we called our lives, way back in the early days of the 21st Century.
I understand how useful information like this can be because I’ve used it myself during the little bit of genealogical research I’ve conducted. Census data collected a century or more ago is often the only official information that remains about my ancestors and probably many of yours.
In the end, all that’s left to do is to drop the “No Postage Necessary If Mailed in the United States” envelope back in the mail. Once the mail lady picks it up, it’ll go to the U.S. Department of Commerce’s Economics and Statistics Administration Census Data Capture Center in Essex, Maryland.