I was fingerprinted
This past week, I was at two police stations and fingerprinted at one of them. Now don't worry, I've not turned to a life of crime. It's just the opposite. This is going to sound a little odd, but for Valentine's Day my husband and I applied for our concealed carry gun permits. That may not sound romantic to some of you, but my husband and I share a love of sport shooting. It's in his genes and was passed to me when we got married. He and his father owned a gunsmith shop, not to mention that they were both police officers at different times. My husband was a town police officer when we met and after he was hired as a deputy sheriff, talked my mother and I into getting our first gun permits about thirty-five years ago. He was the first person to take my fingerprints when I applied for that gun permit. How romantic, right? Back then, fingerprints were taken with ink and wow, what a mess! Since we were dating, he came to my house and fingerprinted my mom and I ...