About Me

Riding in the back seat of my mother's car was the last time I remember looking at my fingerprints. I was about 8. We were heading to the Park-N-Shop in my hometown of Charlotte, N.C.

Mom drove a blue 1972 Ford Country Sedan Wagon. This mammoth beast had enough room to carry 16 people. When I wore shorts, the faux-leather seats would stick to the back of my legs like glue strips. And there was always a faint smell of gasoline when we rode in the jump seats.

While sitting there with my mom, I caught a glimpse of the strange patterns on my fingertips."What's their purpose?" I thought for a moment.

Many years went by before I noticed my fingerprints again. How often does anyone ever think about their prints anyway?

Until one day, my daughter asked me to help chaperone an overnight high-school band trip. To get this coveted position, I had to get a background check. And you guessed it, fingerprints.

I went to our local UPS Store. The man pressed my fingers onto the scanner, with increased pressure each time trying to get a read. He looked confused. I asked, "What's wrong?" He replied, "No prints."

"What," I replied. As I looked intensely at my fingertips, trying hard to find them. He asked, "Are you a teacher or nurse?"

"No," I said.

"I've been a stay-at-home mom for 23 years."

"Oh, yes, I see a lot of moms in here with no prints. All the cleaning and scrubbing with chemicals wear down the prints."

So, one has to wonder.

a. Does my house always smell of Mr. Clean and Lemon Pledge?

b. Was I able to pass the background check after all?

or

c. Will the prints reappear after my last kid leaves for college?

You will have to contact me to find out.