Ever had to take your Mother to get her Police Record?
My mother, Ruth, was born in Wales in 1923. That would make her about 83 years old today.
“Mom,” as we kids call her, is one of the gentlest souls I know. She’s always been that way, even when we were young children growing up in the country. Her personality never changed and you could always count on her to be a great listener. That was important as we kids often came at her from all sides and she needed her level headedness to deal with all the strong personalities in our family.
Ruth met my father when he and an army buddy were walking to the dancehall in Pontypool, Wales. She was coming back through the park after seeing a movie with some friends and the men stopped them to ask directions. The rest is history. At 19, she and my father were married in a Methodist church in town. Shortly after that, World War II was over and Ruth traveled over to the US on the ship – the Brazil – with many other “war brides.”
She has chosen to remain a British citizen all these years. Filing for her “green card” was pretty simple when she was younger. It’s been over 60 years now and she’s done that paperwork a number of times. Once, they changed her last name back to her maiden name and it took three months to get that straight. We’ve been very careful since to make sure the forms were filled out correctly.
Mom has always knitted and crocheted. She has been doing this since she was young and quite often knitted sweaters under the desk at school while she listened to the teacher. She now makes beautiful needlepoint items. She also knits toboggans for service agencies that provide warm clothing to children, homeless men and women, and sailors coming to port in Charleston, South Carolina.
Over the years, arthritis has destroyed the flexibility and muscle structure in Mom’s hands. While it can sometimes be very painful, she still continues to make beautiful and useful items to share with others. I think it’s a ministry for her to do what she does with this talent.
Recently, Mom received a letter inviting her to go to the Charlotte, North Carolina Immigration Office to renew her green card. We packed her up with her walker and headed to that office some two hours away. This time, things were different they told her. They simply could not get good fingerprints from her frail fingers. They tried and tried, but the arthritis has destroyed any semblance of fingerprints.
I jokingly said as they came back after the second time, “Mom, you’d be a perfect criminal…no fingerprints!”
Now you’d have to see my mother to realize just how funny that is. A turtle moves faster than her. If a gentle wind blows she can almost lose her balance. Time has taken a toll on her but she is just like the Energizer bunny…she keeps on ticking!
It would be ridiculous to even expect Mom could do anything illegal. She looks like a meek little British lady who drinks tea all day with the girls. Breaking the law is the furthest thing from her mind.
So, when the Immigration agent suggested that she may need to go get a copy of her police record, I laughed out loud. I learned quickly that this was one of those times when you shouldn’t laugh.
The agent looked up in disbelief. I think she was having a bad day and wasn’t in the mood for my silliness.
She suggested that Mom wait until she got a notice from them in the mail and then go to the local law enforcement office to get a copy of her police report. “She doesn’t have a police report.” I said. The agent assured me quickly and firmly that even I had one – that, indeed – everyone had one. It was either a clean record or one with some infractions on it. I raised my eyebrows when she said that.
“Oh.” I whispered. At that point I thought it would be better if I just kept my mouth shut and did what they said. After all, I didn’t want her to have problems with her green card because of my comments.
We waited until the papers came a few weeks later and I arranged to take her to the local police department during my lunch hour. After getting her in there – walker and all – we discovered that she would have to go to the South Carolina Law Enforcement Division (SLED). We packed her back into the car and arranged to take her on another day.
I took my mother to SLED yesterday. I called to make sure I needed to take her to the same office building where you get fingerprints done. I had just had those done a few months ago there myself. Now, that’s another story I’ll tell later. But no, I don’t have anything on my police record!
We walked in and Mom sat down carefully. I approached the window and paid the $25 to get her report. Within minutes they stamped her paperwork with “no record” and gave it back to me.
“That’s all there is to it?” she asked. I nodded as I smiled and held my lips tightly together so I wouldn’t say anything I shouldn’t.
We sent the paperwork back today.
I hope you never have to take your mother to get her police record. It was the oddest thing I’ve ever done with my mild, meek mother. She was, as usual, very patient. It didn’t bother her one little bit to do that. I suppose in another 10 years she’ll still be the same mild mannered little British lady she is today.
I sure hope some of her patience rubs off on me.
My wish for you today: That you practice patience as much as possible. That quality will take you far in life and the more successful you are at being patient, the better off you will be.
~Joellen